It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness...
Emma
As I opened my eyes and the feel of soft sheets caressed my skin, I was met with darkness. For a second, I imagined I was home in my apartment in Pittsburgh. That second quickly faded as memories from an unbelievable night rushed back. It was as if a dam broke within me, drowning my thoughts in difficult-to-believe recollections. My heart beat faster; my breathing quickened. Blinking through the darkness, I recalled Everett Ramses, the reason I wasn’t at my home. I saw his dark stare, recalled the sensation of his hands at my throat, his promise of death at his hands. My body battled as other sensations returned, how in an incredibly short time, he’d found a way to also bring me pleasure.
I remembered his solid chest, possessive touch, the way he captured my wrists as he’d seduced me in that dining room. I even recalled his rich, spicy cologne. With a start, I sat up, suddenly conscious of the aroma. No longer contained to my memory, I inhaled deeper as I turned one direction and then the other in the pitch-black darkness. I lifted my own hand, unable to make it out as I blinked, willing my eyes to adjust.
The aroma came back, spicy and clean, wafting through the air.
“Rett,” I called out.
Was he present or were my memories that powerful?
Once again, without sight, my other senses worked overtime. With the possibility that I wasn’t alone, I was suddenly, uncomfortably aware of my nakedness beneath the covers. That led to the second thought: I was in bed, not in the sitting room with the big bookcase. My hands reached out, finding the sheets on either side of me were cool.
Pulling the sheet tightly over my breasts, I stared into the darkness, trying to make out what—if anything—was hidden in the shadows.
Was I imagining the scent of his cologne? After all, there were no other signs he was present.
Yet how did I get from the chair to the bed?
How was I undressed?
Even without more evidence, I sensed his presence. It was the opposite of what I’d felt as he drove away what I believed was last night. There was a connection we shared, one I couldn’t discern. It was as his absence had created a void, and his presence was too overpowering to be hidden by darkness.
My pulse beat beneath my skin, thumping in my ears as I felt the sensation of him—his dark orbs upon me, peering through the darkness, seeing me, all of me, under the sheets.
I called his name again.
My focus went toward the windows. Knowing their location was purely from memory as there still wasn’t light coming from around the edges. With my watch gone and phone still missing, my ability to judge time was limited. Yet it seemed as though I’d slept long enough for daylight to arrive.
Rett’s deep tenor rippled through the darkness, bringing warmth even where there wasn’t light. “The beauty awakes.”
My breathing hitched as his words shattered the silence. I wouldn’t pretend to know this man or even much about him, and still, I could sense his demeanor in the tone. It was closer to how it had been when we first met, friendlier if not even playful.
I liked it.
Closing my eyes, I saw the man I could only hear. I imagined his broad shoulders, wide chest, and possessive touch.
“She is awake, yes?”
“Yes,” I said as I pulled the sheet closer and pressed my thighs together.
How could a few words cause my blood to warm, my core to twist?
“Rett?”
His response came nonverbally as the bed dipped. The scent of his cologne grew as I felt him move closer.
“Rett? Turn on the lights. What time is it? How did I get into bed?”
As my last question escaped, a finger came to my lips. “Do you always wake so inquisitive?”
Beneath his touch I smiled. “Only when I wake in a bed within a dark room, without clothes, and in the presence of a man I barely know.”
“I carried you to the bed after finding you asleep in the library.”
Library.