Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,12

she gazed at him. “You should go now.”

He glanced toward the clock on her nightstand. Nearly three A.M. They’d stopped their last round less than an hour ago. He must have fallen asleep . . .

“We have to be on the plane at seven, remember?”

He remembered.

He also realized Victoria was kicking his ass out of her bed. He rose, taking his time, and she immediately backed away. At that retreat, he stilled.

Was she still scared of him? After what they’d just done?

He took a minute, then rolled back his shoulders. He could smell her all around him. That sweet, heady scent of lavender, and he was still aroused.

Tonight hadn’t satisfied him. It had only made him want more.

The question was . . . did she feel the same way?

Not if she’s kicking me out.

He put on his jeans. Dressed in silence. He could feel her eyes on him and he knew she had to see his arousal. When he looked up at her, Victoria’s cheeks were flushed.

Holding her gaze, he closed in on her.

Victoria backed up a step.

His eyes narrowed at that retreat. She was supposed to trust him. Not retreat.

His hand lifted and—­sure the hell enough—­she gave a little flinch. After everything . . . no. His hand sank beneath the weight of her hair and he brought his mouth down on hers. He kissed her slowly, taking his time and enjoying her mouth. Then he pulled back and said, “I like touching you.”

“Wade . . . no ties.”

That had been her rule, not his.

He smiled and let her go. If he could, he’d tie her to him in a thousand different ways.

But he could be patient. He could play the game, for now.

So he turned away from her and headed toward the front of her penthouse. When he reached her door, he glanced back over his shoulder. Victoria had followed him.

“Two questions . . .” His voice was a little harder than he would have liked. But he didn’t understand this game between them, not fully, not yet.

Victoria nodded.

“Question one . . . do you often go out and look for a stranger in the dark?” Because if she did, he’d have a whole lot of asses to kick.

“Not . . . often.”

His back teeth clenched.

“And I wasn’t . . . wasn’t looking for a fuck, not like you said. I was kissing him. I—­I don’t know what else—­”

She stopped.

He didn’t want to think of anything else.

Very slowly, Wade exhaled. “Question two . . . when you feel the need to let go again . . . when you want to climax until you scream . . . will you come to me?”

Silence.

Hell—­

“No ties?” Victoria asked. “No strings? Partners, with benefits?”

He nodded.

“Then . . . yes.”

That was what he needed to know.

For now.

“See you on the plane,” Wade told her, and then left. He didn’t let himself look back, because if he did, he didn’t think he’d be able to leave.

VICTORIA LOCKED THE door behind Wade. She set her alarm and crawled back into the bed—­a bed that smelled of him.

She swiped at the stupid tears on her cheeks.

The sex had been amazing. Toe-­curling, can’t-­catch-­my-­breath fantastic. But it should have only been sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Instead, she’d fallen asleep in his arms. She’d let down her guard and enjoyed being held by him. She’d awoken and hadn’t been scared. She’d awoken and thought—­

He’s with me.

But she had to keep him from getting too close. He couldn’t learn her secrets. And he could not break through the wall that she kept around herself.

Sex was one thing.

Secrets . . . trust . . . no, there were some lines that she would never cross. Not even with him.

SHE DIDN’T SLEEP well the rest of the night. Mostly because she kept thinking about Wade. Thinking far too much about him.

So at six A.M. she had her bag and rushed out of her building. She’d already called a cab to take her to the airport. She intended to play things very cool with Wade. She could do casual. Maybe. Hopefully.

She could—­

“Victoria?”

At the familiar voice, she turned her head. Flynn Marshall was jogging toward her, clad only in a pair of loose shorts. Sweat covered his muscled chest.

Right. He runs. Just like clockwork when he’s in town.

That was how they met. She’d been on her way to work. Flynn was jogging right by her—­they’d nearly collided.

Then she’d seen him again, at Wild Jokers. He bought her an apology drink.

Now, Flynn barely seemed

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