Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Mark,” I say. “Who I see is my own business. If evidence comes to light linking Miles to the body, I will stop seeing him or I will recuse myself from the case. But until then, there’s no reason for me not to see him.”
A giant cement block lifts from my shoulders.
I stood up for myself. I stood up for Miles.
It feels damned good. What’s happening between us is real.
Why didn’t I just do that in the first place instead of telling Mark that Miles had come over to talk to me about the case? Instead, I made what we did seem naughty or illicit. We are grown-ups on our own time doing our own thing.
I offer a glance up at Miles, whose jaw is clenched, and he’s glaring daggers at Mark. His anger is directed at my partner right now, but I’m sure some of it is for me. That I asked him to hide in the bedroom in the first place. He probably thinks I feel it was tawdry and wrong.
It doesn’t feel wrong. It feels…right.
God, one night and I’m in trouble. I ache for him to tell me I’m his good girl once more. To look at me as he did last night. Even a short time ago.
He has to forgive me. He has to. I don’t want to give him up.
“Have it your way, Hopkins. I think you’re headed for heartache.” He nods to the files he brought over. “Analyze those. I want a full report Monday morning.”
Not only do I have to work all weekend, I probably won’t see Miles again once he walks out that door.
I think you're headed for heartache.
Mark was wrong. I’m already there.
9
MILES
* * *
“Miles…”
Damn her. Damn Sadie Hopkins. I brush past her to the door, even though every cell in my body is screaming to stay. To throw her over my shoulder and take her back to bed. To fuck her hard. To spank that creamy white ass for lying about us.
Sure, she eventually told the truth, but still…
“Don’t go,” she pleads.
God, that voice. That sweet and tender voice—the voice that called my name so many times last night.
She has the voice of an angel, and the growling moans of a little devil.
And I adore both sides of her.
Except the side that’s ashamed of what we’ve done.
“I have to go,” I say without turning around.
But then her touch…
First on my shoulder, and then on my hips. Then her front melting against my back. She’s so much smaller than I am. Her forehead is between my shoulder blades, her breasts against my back.
But no.
I thought she was mine, but she’s not. Sure, she stood up for us when pushed, but her first inclination was to lie. This is why I don’t do relationships. They suck. I always get fucked over in the end because I always end up the last priority. I turn around and detach her from me.
“You made your feelings clear,” I tell her.
“Yeah, I did. I told him the truth.”
I scoff. “It doesn’t count when you lie first. If you don’t put value on what we have. Or more accurately, what we could have.”
My mother didn’t put value on her relationships. Or on me. Jonathan Bridger was the first of many men. Instead of getting a huge cash payout from him, she got me. But she learned from the experience—to get better birth control, for sure—and moved on to her next conquest. And then the next. I have no idea which husband she’s on. I’ve lost count. It’s her job—marrying and then divorcing and taking half.
I learned from my mother what I didn’t want in a relationship. A gold digger, for sure. That’s not what Sadie is. She didn’t know who I was any more than I knew she was a detective in the bar the other night. But I don’t commit. Ever. Because I don’t trust.
I let Sadie in last night more than any other woman. I thought what we shared, what we had, was real. Was more.
Then she went and devalued it with Peterson. Kept doing it by placing me last, not first.
The case came first for her.
She blinks and wipes her palms on her sweats. “I… I panicked, okay? Have you never panicked in your life?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Not over spending the night with anyone.”
“Because they were flings and didn’t mean anything to you. Right?”
I can’t argue about that. I don’t do relationships, but I was willing to give it a go with Sadie. It’s better to know now where I stand. “So you’re saying this isn’t a fling and it means something. And yet you lied to Mark.”
“He’s my boss!” she all but shouts. “This case…”
I shake my head, ready to make a few points, when my phone dings again with a text. Damn, it was nearly dead an hour ago. How is it still hanging on?