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I knew exactly how to set myself straight. As soon as I got back into my apartment, I let my frustration and confusion pour into words.
When I close my eyes, it’s not the bristling porcupine side of him I see. It’s the hungry wolf who wants to devour me whole.
Flashes come to me, images of him pulling my hips down over his face, the feel of his bruising grip holding me still, the tremble of my unsteady fingers tearing at his fly as I try desperately to hold onto some semblance of control.
His tongue lashes my already swollen clit, frying my nervous system and thrusting me over the edge of rational decisions into beautiful chaos. He doesn’t hold back, doesn’t ease into me. He thrusts his tongue, nips at my tender flesh, and makes me come faster than I ever have in my life.
It’s me who needs more, me who pulls out the condom Juno stashed in my borrowed bag with my borrowed clothes. It’s me who tells him to put it on, me who climbs onto his lap and takes exactly what I want from him and not an inch less.
He’s rough, commanding, and easily takes control.
I don’t care. It feels too good.
We’re two desperate bodies, coaxing pleasure from each other’s flesh, too hazy to remember all the reasons we shouldn’t.
He unravels me so completely I no longer care that he makes me feel so far out of control that I lose myself. Or that he removes my suitcases from the bed without asking. Or that he drops our conversations in the middle of texting and freaking ghosts me for days.
Nope. I do care.
I care right now. And I’m flipping furious.
I knew exactlywhat I needed to do.
I snapped my laptop shut, then dug around through my bag until I found what I was looking for. I flipped through the packet of papers Gabriel’s assistant had put together for the ski trip, and found Pamela’s info.
Nervous excitement thrummed through my veins as I called. It rang twice.
“Ms. Hartley,” she answered, apparently already having my number in her phone. “How can I help you?”
“Pamela, hi,” I said, suddenly unsure. “Call me Layana.”
Silence reigned.
That feeling prickled at the back of my mind, the one like there was someone watching again, even though I was alone in my apartment.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Mr. Stryker’s location is not something I’m authorized to share.”
This was not going well. “I need to see him.”
“I believe you have his number, correct?”
“You’re not helping.”
“Will that be all?”
“No. That will not be all. Tell him I need to talk to him.”
“You tell him yourself. Good day, Ms. Hartley.”
She hung up.
It was not agood day.Grr.
I stalked off, deciding to take her advice and find him myself. I’d go to his office first, then his house if he wasn’t there. Other than his morning run, those were the only two things I knew he did.
Did he have friends? Could he be talking things out with one right now, like I’d done with Juno?
