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“Are you planning to take the call?” Timofey dangles the phone in front of me. “Or should I dismiss it so we can pick up where we—”
“I’ll take it!” I practically scream.
I swipe up on the call and press it to my ear as I scramble back off of Timofey’s lap. He grabs my hips to hold me steady as I find my footing.
I wonder what it would feel like to feel these strong hands on my bare skin. To feel him grip my waist as he drove himself into me again and—
“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line is quiet, but it snaps me out of my dirty line of thinking.
“Hello?” I parrot back.
“Piper?” I recognize Noelle’s voice now, but she’s still whispering. “Is that you?”
“Of course it’s me. You called me, remember?”
I bite back a sigh. The most intense kiss of my life was interrupted because Noelle wants to tell me about the wrap she made for lunch. Or the latest thing Ashley said to piss her off. It’s always something useless with her.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m relieved by the distraction. But another part of me is aching to feel Timofey’s solid muscles under my fingertips, to settle against the wall of his chest and let his soft mouth devour me whole.
Shame tries and fails to poison my thoughts. I can’t blame myself for that fantasy. Timofey may be a monster, but he doesn’t look or feel like one.
I’m only human, after all.
“You just don’t sound like yourself,” Noelle says. “You’re all… breathy. It sounds like you sucked down some helium.”
I clear my throat and hurry away from Timofey, hoping he didn’t overhear anything Noelle just said. “I’m fine. It’s me. What’s up?”
“Remember what you asked me to do?”
I sort through the last few hours, trying to figure out what Noelle is talking about. It’s beena day.A certified, trademarked, undeniable, all-caps DAY. I can be forgiven for forgetting the last conversation Noelle and I had.
“Not really. I’m actually busy right now. Could I—”
“Emily is dead,” Noelle says suddenly.
A wave of blind panic washes over me. Then I realize I don’t know anyone named Emily. “Who?”
“This morning,” Noelle pushes. “You texted me to look into Timofey’s ex. That’s who she was, right? His ex-girlfriend?”
Just like that, it all comes back to me.
The locket. Emily. Asking Noelle for her Google Fu skills.
I turn away from Timofey’s watchful gaze. “Sorry. Repeat that. I didn’t catch it.”
“Emily Anderson is dead,” Noelle repeats slowly. “She was murdered.”
My heart is thundering in my chest, and I can barely catch my breath. Timofey’s last (maybe, maybe not) girlfriend was murdered. But surely he had nothing to do with—
Who in the hell am I kidding? Just look at him! He is guilty as sin. He did it. Lock him up and throw away the key.
I fight back the impulse to scream this very thing in the phone right now, and instead, I do my best to play it casual. “How did that happen?”
Noelle hesitates. “Are you hearing what I’m saying? A woman is dead. Are you—wait. Is he there with you?”
There’s a reason Noelle is the smart one.
“Uh-huh,” I confirm as though I’m listening to whatever she’s saying, encouraging her to go on.
