Page 46 of A Shot in the Dark
I deserve better.
He pushes us farther, higher, faster, and I cry out for him as I come, crying out “Boots” as he purrs “Sylva…”
It’s then that I know with even greater and more cutting clarity that this was over before it could even truly begin. All the evasive maneuvers he took on the road were nothing compared to how often he evaded answering everything I needed so desperately to know.
And still—I come with his lips on mine, him stealing my breath like it’s always been his to take.
How can I love a man whose name I don’t even know?
Boots is not my “one,” my “only,” and something deep within me has known it from the start.
He knew it from the start, too—he was right about everything. About me, about this being temporary.
He realizes when I begin to cry against his shoulder. “Sylva,” he worries, hoarse and stricken as he pulls out of me. “Princess…” He releases my leg, pulls up my panties and smooths down my skirt. “Sylva,” he soothes.
He’s petting my hair, soothing. “Sylva, Sylva, Sylva… Tell me what’s wrong…”
He’s panicking.
I’m panicking, too, my heart rioting in my chest, flinging itself at my ribcage like a wild thing trying to break free. I want this—I don’t want this…
I no longer know anything.
Not who I am, not what I want…
All I know is that I fucking despise myself.
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” I gasp.
Something is definitely wrong with me.
“You can’twhat, precious?” he wonders, his hands cradling the sides of my face. “From where I stand, you can do anything.”
It’s better for both of us if I end this thing and do it with military efficiency. That at least he’ll understand. “You asked what you should do about me, and now I’ll tell you. You’re going to do exactly what you planned all along. Before all this madness made you miss your delivery deadline. Before you had to bond with me—someone you didn’t care for but had grown used to. You’re going to drop me off in Greenbriar. You’re going to return to work. Maybe, like you said, grovel. Maybe make amends somehow. I don’t know enough about your world to know what it’ll take to make this right. You’re going to go back to existing in your world, and I’ll go back to mine—whatever mine is now…” I struggle to catch my breath, finally dragging in a deep one before continuing. “You’ll pick up your next client and,” I force the words out, even though the taste of them on my tongue is bitter, “you’re never going to see me again. Like you planned from the beginning.”
He grunts. The glasses go back on. His hands drop to his sides. “Like I planned,” he says dully, looking past me at the sunset as the darkness begins to gather around us.
There should be no emotional pang at the idea of Boots’ absence—I’ve been with plenty of men for less time than we’ve shared and found plenty of reasons not to miss them at all. It’s just the bond—a temporary thing I need to outlast.
And I can.
“Yes. Exactly like you planned. You were right. This was only supposed to be temporary—even the bond was only seven days. And you did it. You said you could do anything for seven days, and I believe you,” I add bitterly. “I’m releasing you from your remaining days because I don’t want to be the ‘something’ you have to do.”
“Not what I meant at all, princess…” He looks over my head, towards the fading sun, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly as he works through my words. “This,” he whisperswhen he finds the words, pointing to the thin space between us, “is over?”
“Yes,” I say. “Mercedes.”
Chapter 14
His head rocks back like he’s been punched, and the sensation tears through me, taking everything I have to keep from reacting. I want this… Oh,shit. I don’t want this…
FUCK.
He steps back, nods slowly. Once, twice, three times as he begins to walk away. His brow pinches, relaxes, furrows. His fingers trace the roof of the car and I watch silently as he climbs into the Town Car, sets his hands at ten and two and rests his head on the steering wheel for one heartbreaking moment. I slip into the seat beside him, aghast. I nearly relent, not wanting to bear witness to this moment—I’ve never stayed to watch the hurt—I’ve always run before witnessing the pain.
This…this is what I deserve: to know what I’ve fucking done to someone I?—
No.
