Itwasfantastic. I refuse to believe a second of our time in bed together was forced or fake.
There has to be some other reason she’s decided to bolt.
But what?
I lie on the mattress beside her, staring a broody hole through her sleeping head, wondering how she manages to be so transparent and completely unpredictable at the same time?
I don’t know, but it makes me irritable.
And excited.
And frustrated.
And fascinated.
A terrible combination that feels an awful lot like the first flush of falling in love…
Chapter Six
EMILY
Iwake to that kind of pink, December morning light that makes everything look romantic.
Even epic mistakes.
But damn, what a gorgeous mistake…
For exactly five seconds, I let myself enjoy the warm weight of Olly’s arm draped across my waist, the way his dark hair falls across his forehead, the calligraphy of his swoop of an upper lip.
His mouth is a thing of beauty.
And so skilled at delivering orgasms, it should come with a warning label: Caution—May Cause Pleasure so Intense You’ll Wake up Hoarse from Screaming this Man’s Name.
His name…which I still only knowhalfof.
The thought chills the warmth kindling between my thighs.
I still have no idea who Olly really is. Or how he pays for this luxury flat. For all I know, he could be a drug dealer who rules the London suburbs with a rakish smile and a switchblade. Or a wickedly charming City solicitor who’s priced out every family-run shop on the high street.
Or—even worse—a crypto bro with a podcast.
The thought makes me shudder. I have to get out of this bed and pull myself together. Make a plan. Get my business trip back on track.
Figure out what time it is…
I glance toward the bedside table, but my phone isn’t there.
My stomach knots. Did I leave it at the pub? Or, even worse, somewhere outside in the snow? The chances it could have fallen out of my coat pocket while Olly and I were vigorously making out against that lamppost are greater than zero.
Far greater.
Shit!
This is bad. Very bad!
What the hell were you thinking, Emily Katherine Darling?
The answer is, I wasn’t. For one glorious night, I stopped making lists and analyzing consequences and threw caution—and my panties—to the wind.
