Page 52 of Chandelier Sin
Our hands touching sent a shock up my arm. This moment was no different to standing in a fast-flowing river, powerful and unpredictable, carving its own path.
She pulled me towards the door, and I let her, breathing in her perfume. It seduced with notes of innocence and something else, somethinginviting.
I followed her inside the cottage.
She let go of my hand when we entered the living room. “You came.”
“Apparently.” I took in every verbal and non-verbal clue she offered, trying to interpret what the fuck was really going on.
I listened for sounds of another person’s presence. A hallway was to my right. There was a window I could smash my way out of if needed. An antique phone rested on a writing desk, and thepale blue couch and chairs matched the colors of the wallpaper. The modest place had a feminine touch.
In the corner sat a grand piano.
“You play?” I nodded toward the piano.
“I’m teaching myself.”
“Impressive.”
“I stay here, sometimes.”
“Away from the house?”
She gestured for me to follow her down a hallway, glancing back as she went. “Is it true you’re a doctor?”
“You’ve been digging around.” I made it a joke.
It sure as hell looked like she was taking me to her bedroom.
It wasn’t as if I didn’t want to run my fingers through her hair and kiss her, and take her at some point, but we were moving at breakneck speed.
I refused to take another step. “Where are we going?”
“This way, please.”
They’d profiled Jake. Nailed the kind of woman he’d go after, obsessed after, even. Could they have known Amelia would be stolen away?
Perhaps Amelia had been given to Jake because they knew Greyson coveted what he couldn’t have. And Jake had owned Amelia completely.
They’d made her a mark for Greyson, the man with a fetish for the impossible, a tortured soul and wealthy aristocrat who yearned for what he couldn’t have.
Which in this case was Amelia.
And me, the guy who only trusted the kind of woman who didn’t want me—the kind of female who only wanted to be fucked hard, asking nothing more of me than that.
Like Eve was doing now.
I could experience a taste of what could never be mine. A secret encounter that lifted the mundane. Married women were as safe as it got.
I’d willingly stepped into this trap with a hardened attitude.
“Eve,” I snapped. “Why did you ask me here?”
She stopped halfway. “I need you.”
“For what?”
Could you be more fucking specific?
