I desperately want to, but it would unleash everything I’m barely holding back.
With a sigh, she tosses me her keys.
I catch them, our gazes locked on each other every single second. It’s like we’re talking silently, wordlessly waging war as she sticks her lips out.
She’s barely holding it back too.
Why did I arrange this? What sort of masochistic shit is this?
It’s torture, being so close but having to keep it all buried.
“I won’t be long,” I tell her, striding for the hallway. “Make yourself at home.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
Lauren
I drop heavily onto the couch, wondering what sort of madness took hold of me just now. I didn’t have to mention Dad, didn’t have to reference what Silas said to me.
Nothing happened.
But it was like the tension was twisting through me, the memories of his massive manhood, his intense, obsessed eyes, and his mouth pressed against me.
I thought I could control it, but as soon as I stepped in here, I imagined all the ways a woman could bring life to his apartment. The artistic touches. The flourishes.
Nota woman.
Only me.
Buster trots across the living room to the kitchen.
It’s all open plan, wide and modern, with tall ceilings.
Buster sits in front of a drawer and barks up at it.
“Come on, boy,” I say.
He barks again, wagging his tail so fast his whole butt is wiggling from side to side. Despite the awkward energy in the air, I laugh, rising to my feet.
“Are you trying to get a treat while your daddy is distracted?”
He grins, wagging his tail even faster.
I wonder if this is okay, but surely if Buster knows which drawer to bark at, he knows what treats he likes. And anything’s better than sitting, thinking, and dreading what happens when Silas returns.
Opening the drawer, I find a bag of treats. I take it out and feed a couple to Buster. He snaps them from the air happily.
When I turn to replace the bag, I see a piece of paper, half folded like it was stuffed in there quickly.
Vanessa Vanessa Vanessa…
The woman’s name is written on it over and over, the way I once wrote Silas’ name, except I enclosed his in a heart.
This is simple raw passion, and her name scrawled like it was the only way he could feel close to her, his only method to experience a pale version of their love again.
I slam the drawer shut when I hear him walking up the hallway.
He finds me at the drawer. Standing tall with the folded table casually held under one huge arm, he looks piercingly at me, his body looking taut in his T-shirt and shorts.