Page 103 of Merciless Heir

Given the chance, I might just sneak out on her.

Because the things that happen between us when we’re naked is sex on drugs. Sex like sex has never been. It’s naked in a way that goes beyond flesh on flesh.

Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it, I’d do the coward thing and run, too.

Even if I was home.

I take a taxi to that place, home sweet home, except it feels empty when I close the door behind me. Empty and sterile in a way it never has before.

Me, the man who likes his solitude. A man who knows what he likes. And my place is my haven.

Or at least, it was, until a woman with a hardcore pixie cut and a mouth that won’t quit in more ways than one—my throbbing and suddenly interested cock can attest to that—came into my life.

Shit. If I was an idiot, I’d think I’m developing feelings for her.

Which I’m definitely not.

She didn’t leave a note, but then again, she didn’t have to. I’m thinking she went after the tiara. And I’m thinking that was also the reason to put space between us.

Fine by me. I’m glad. I need that space, too.

I go into my room and throw myself on my bed, tucking my hands behind my head, trying to keep those images from the last two nights and day at bay.

“Save them for the spank bank,” I say to the room.

I wince. I have a horrible feeling that will be an exclusive Sadie kinda bank.

I try to put my brain onto the matters at hand, but I can’t. I don’t know where all this has got us. No closer to the truth. Closer to the tiara, perhaps.

And maybe that’s all that matters. I get it, she sells it and we part ways.

With that, I get up, grab a change of clothes and head to my bathroom.

What I need is to wash her off me.

If only the fucking en suite came with a Sadie remover instead of steam shower, I’d be golden.

If only.

Ever since I got home in the early hours of the morning I’ve worked, talked with my brothers—fucking Ryder informing me he spoke to Sadie which is Ryder speak for sticking his nose where it most definitely doesn’t belong—texted her, been ignored by my mother and worked out.

I’m coming down the stairs from my workout room when I notice that shift in the air, the latent heat and awareness and then, on the very edges, the softest hint of jasmine and smoke.

It’s like a sucker punch. I grip the ends of the towel I’ve slung about my neck and pause, trying to get myself under control.

How Sadie manages to throw me off center is one of life’s great mysteries.

Or maybe it isn’t.

Because I know how she affects me.

Question is how the fuck does she keep doing it, over and over again when she should be out of my system?

I wipe the towel over my face and then continue down, take the wide hall and go into the wide-open living room.

Sadie stands there, dressed in form fitting black, and she looks, in a word, spectacular.

In her hand is a glass of something, so I go over and get myself a whiskey. It’s after lunching hour and I’ve been up for hours and it gives me something to do. An excuse. Whatever you’d like to call it. But now I’m close and I can breathe her in and take in the heat of her, even as my body reacts because oh yeah, those memories are fresh.