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“Seb… Please…” I beg.
“What is it, Sparrow? What do you want?”
I open my mouth to respond, to tell him that I want him to take me harder, to show me that I belong to him. I want him to touch and taste every part of me. I want to come so badly…
BEEP. BEEP.
An insistent noise breaks through my haze. “Sebastian…” I moan, still half-conscious. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop…”
BEEP.
Dammit. I wake breathless and drenched, still on the edge of release.
But Sebastian’s not here. I’m alone in a dark bed.
It was all just a dream.
Cursing under my breath, I grasp around for the phone on my nightstand. It’s a new one, I only just got it, and I can’t imagine who has the number.
“Are you interested in a low-interest home loan?”
Fuck.
I hang up, collapsing back onto the pillows as my heart rate slowly returns to normal. But still, my body aches for Sebastian.
His steely touch, his groaned orders, his wicked tongue….
My hands slide lower, as if of their own accord. Down under the waistband of my pajama pants, to where I’m wet and needy for him.
“That’s my good girl…”
I try to lose myself in memories again. Flashes of our nights together: at the sex club… in his London house… at the cabin…
But nothing can get me there, not without him.
Dammit.
Eventually, I give up, and go take a shower and prepare for the day ahead. I’m back in my old apartment on the Lower East Side, modest and sparsely decorated with old mementos and busted furniture. I never cared all that much about my surroundings or put effort into décor and clothing like some people, but now, my old place doesn’t feel like home to me.
None of this does.
I stand in front of the mirror and wipe the condensation away with my hand. I barely recognize the woman standing there, and that’s not just because my hair still dyed Scarlett’s color.
Who am I anymore?
Miles’ death changed me—and then my mission for revenge took me even further from the life I knew. I’m not even operating under my own name anymore, I realize, when I dress and grab my wallet, finding that passport still in my purse: my only identification now. And the printed document, showing the transfer to an account in my name. A million dollars I still can’t believe is real.
Is this the new beginning Sebastian promised me?
Alone in a city far from him, with no idea what to do with myself?
Get it together,I instruct myself, yanking my hair back, and pulling a pair of my old boots from the closet. I’ve never been someone to sit around, moping, not when I can take action instead, so I head out, going to meet Nero for breakfast at one of our usual haunts near the club.
“I bet you missed these in England,” he jokes, lifting one of the famous bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches at the hole-in-the-wall diner we always like to go.
I manage a smile. “I don’t know…” I tease back. “Sebastian’s private chef made a mean blueberry pancake.”
Nero snorts. “Now I see, you’ve gotten soft in the lap of luxury. Trading caviar for corn-dogs won’t be so easy now, huh?”
