Page 33 of Faded Rhythm

I try not to think about what it might have felt like to have people speak life into me, rather than death. To have a mother who noticed things, cared about how my day was, who gave a fuck about whether or not my belly was full.

I never let myself dwell on that. If you’re not careful, your past can become a cage where you run around in circles and still get nowhere. But I have to admit, sitting here in this hotel room listening to her tuck love into every syllable makes something twist in my gut. If I’d had somebody in my life like her, would I have still become what I am?

No.

But it doesn’t matter. Ididbecome this, and there’s no way to undo it.

She ends the call, then walks over to me with a slice of pizza in her hand. Her eyes are a little glassy, maybe because she’s missing her girls. She holds it out, offering me a bite. Without thinking, I open my mouth and let her feed me. Our eyes lock while I chew, and I barely taste the pizza with her fingers so close to my lips, her scent invading my space. It’s overwhelming.

And it’s obvious.

She wants to fuck me. I see it in her eyes. She’d give anything for me to take her over to the bed and make her forget her own name.

She’s not alone in that. I’m ready. I’m willing.

But I refuse.

I won’t allow myself to be compromised again.

I look away before I say something I’ll regret. Before I touch her in a way I can’t take back. Because once I cross that line, it’s the beginning of the end.

We pull up to her house just as the sun dips below the horizon. The subdivision is still and quiet. I drove around four times and noticed no strange cars or lights where they shouldn’t be. The watcher from last night is long gone.

For now.

We go inside and head straight for Brett’s office. Sable’s steps are hesitant. Her back is rigid. I know she hates being back here, but it can’t be helped.

She swallows her fear and rifles through drawers and shelves and cabinets. Nothing useful. Then she moves her hand to a smaller drawer on the bottom of the desk and frowns.

“This one’s locked,” she says. “Do you think you can get it open?”

I kneel in front of the drawer and pull a thin metal tool from my back pocket.

The lock clicks open in less than ten seconds.

“My hero,” she says with a tired smile.

I don’t respond, but something about the way she said it made my body warm. I don’t know what to do with that feeling, so I bury it deep and move aside to let her look.

She pulls out three USB drives and hands them to me. I slip them into my pocket and wait.

Once she’s satisfied she left no stone unturned, she stands up straight. “I need to grab a few more things before we go,” she says, and I follow her out. It’s instinct now, me being her shadow. She hands me a Louis Vuitton duffle bag to hold while she moves around the room, tossing in clothes and toiletries.

A pair of black lace panties sails through the air and misses the bag by a few inches, landing on the floor near my feet.

I bend and pick them up.

They feel like silk in my hand. Almost weightless. As hard as I try, I can’t stop myself from picturing them on her, wrapped around her hips, lying flush against her skin. My fingers curl around the lace as I envision slipping them down her thighs. A slow heat builds in my stomach. My blood rushes through my veins. My groin feels tight. Now, I see her wearing them again, and this time, I don’t bother to slip them off. Instead, I imagine myself sliding them to the side. I see her shiver in anticipation as she parts her thighs for me, hear her moaning softly as I give her what she wants. I see her back arch, her nipples coming dangerously close to my mouth.

The images play in my mind with disturbing clarity. I can practicallytasteher.

Yeah. That’s the one. I keep my mind on that scene. My tongue flicking back and forth. My fingers sliding in and out. Her thighs,tight around my head, her fingernails scratching my scalp. I hear her again, whispering my name like a prayer.

I blink, swallow, and drop the panties into the bag, forcing my face back to neutral. I can’t do shit about my pulse, but I hide my erection behind the bag.

I need to get my head back in the game. This is serious.

We head back to the car. The minute I shut her door, I see relief flicker across her face.

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