“She doesn’t know. It’s too dark in her house for her to see his features.”
“Why does he break into the house? Is it specifically for Reya?”
“No. Reya is a lawyer. She has evidence at her house that this character is trying to locate.”
Saint runs the backs of his fingers over my cheek as I speak. He seems so interested in my answers, it makes me wonder if he’s planning to act this scene out. Is that why I’m telling him about it? Because part of me hopes he does?
That would be taking things a little too far. I’m not so sure I’m willing to go that deep for research.
“What happens next?” he asks.
“The guy finds the papers. He leaves Reya tied up. But Cam shows up and finds her an hour later.”
Saint leans forward, feathering my lips with his. “This book sounds intriguing.”
“I’m hoping that’s exactly what it turns out to be.”
He grins, and then kisses me. And just like during our first kiss, his phone begins to vibrate. He doesn’t even flinch. He just kisses me even deeper, ignoring the incoming call.
With every vibration of his phone, he pulls me tighter against him as if he’s trying to drown out the noise with my touch.
“You should get that,” I whisper, pulling away.
We both know it’s his wife.
He reluctantly steps away from me and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He carries it to the front door and takes the call outside.
I watch him through the window. He’s gripping the back of his neck as he speaks to whoever is on the other end of that call.
I wonder what her name is. How long they’ve been together. Does he have children?
The call doesn’t last long.
He heads back toward the house, so I walk away from the window. When he’s back inside, his expression is regretful. He walks past me and scoops up his uniform. He doesn’t say a word. He just grips my face with one hand and kisses me, almost possessively.
Then he leaves.
I’m left speechless, standing alone in the kitchen.
I don’t know what just happened, it occurred so fast.
Was that part of his act? I’m getting reality and fiction confused. Was he doing what he thought Cam would do in that situation?
Or did Saint really feel guilty enough after that phone call that he just left without a word?
I have no idea what was going through his head, so all I can do is focus on what’s going through mine. I take my computer to the bedroom with me, full of new ideas and new feelings and new thoughts.
I write until I fall asleep.
FIVE
I FELL ASLEEP with my laptop on my chest. I can feel it when I try to roll over, so I push it away from me, to the other side of the bed.
I pull my pillow to my chest and try to fall back to sleep, but something feels off. The house is too quiet. Too dark.
I open my eyes and my focus is automatically pulled to the bedroom door. There’s a shadow filling the doorway, and as soon as I see it, anxiety weighs down on my chest.
I have never been so terrified. I open my mouth, but it’s like the nightmares where nothing comes out.
I immediately reach for my phone.
The figure lunges forward and I force out a scream as I quickly scramble to the other side of the bed.
I’m not quick enough.
A firm hand wraps around my ankle and pulls. I slide across the bed and lose my grip on my phone.
Tears fill my eyes.
My body is wracked with adrenaline like I’ve never felt before.
I try to recall everything I learned in self-defense class, but I don’t have time to think before I’m being dragged off the bed. A hand wraps around my mouth to cover my screams.
Please be Saint. Please be Saint.
I don’t know why I’m hoping Saint is the one doing this to me. Even if he took our little game too far by showing up here to scare me in the middle of the night—his actions would still be terrifying to me. And completely inexcusable.
I’m kicking my feet against the floor as he drags me, trying to get a grip on something so I can stand up. He’s moving too fast and he’s way too strong for me to pull away.
The house is so dark—darker than normal. I can tell the power has been cut as I’m dragged into the kitchen and can