Page 9 of The Last Call Home
“After all these years,” he murmurs, voice dipped low enough to crawl down my spine and settle somewhere deep, “you’re still shit at lying.”
A beat.
One breath.Two.
“This time ...”His gaze rakes down my body like he already knows the damage he’s done.“I might not let you get away with it—I might not leave just to save you from your demons, nor to keep the girl.”
And then he’s gone.
The door shuts behind him like punctuation.Not a question.Not an ellipsis.
It seems like a period.
Final.
But it never is with him.Not really.It’s always a semicolon because it’s never over.It’s never fucking over until he says it is, and then he leaves you in ruins.
Right now, I’m one breath away from chasing after him—forgetting every boundary, every consequence, just to beg him to take care of me.My body’s still flushed, trembling with the aftershock of him, my thoughts scattered like broken glass.And my cock ...it’s fucking throbbing, hard and desperate, like it remembers everything I swore I’d forget.Every reason I had to stay away?Slipping fast.One more second, and I won’t just want him—I’ll need him.Again.
Delilah whistles low, slicing through the silence like she just watched a car detonate and walked away without flinching.
“So ...”she says, head tilted, voice all casual breeze while her eyes gleam with dangerous curiosity.“Was that unresolved sexual tension or the opening move in a murder plot?”
I open my mouth.
Close it.
Try again, but nothing comes out.There’s no explanation because what can I tell her about Cassian Harlan?
She grins, giving me a break or perhaps not understanding what just happened.“Either way, I’m gonna need snacks, a front-row seat, and possibly a helmet.”
I don’t laugh.I don’t even smile.
I just stare at the door as if it might open again.Like he might come back in here and finish what he started—with his mouth, with his hands, with that damn look that knows how to unravel me.
And I think—should I tell her?
Should I warn her that she just got pulled into something she doesn’t understand?That she’s been added to the board and Cassian’s already making moves around her?
But how the hell do I protect her from someone I still want like this?
How can I keep her out of his orbit when part of me wants her there—wants us there, tangled and breathless and wrecked?
I rake a hand through my hair, still staring at that door waiting to wake up from this dream.As if it should creak back open and give me a chance to get this right or just erase it.
“I need stronger coffee,” I mutter, voice raw.And maybe a fucking leash for my impulses.
ChapterFour
Delilah
Talkabout hot dreams and sexy?—
What the fuck was that?
The man who just walked in wasn’t real.Couldn’t be.He felt more like a phenomenon, a force of nature with swagger and a sinful smirk.A goddamn tornado wrapped in worn denim, cracked leather, and something that smelled suspiciously like recklessness and orgasms.
He was probably just a dream.One of those infuriating ones—right when I’m about to kiss Malerick, beg him to pin me against the wall and fuck me senseless, and bam.I wake up because, apparently, my alarm has no respect for dream orgasms.
