Chapters (64)
- Recluse
- Dedication
- Book Description
- Also By Helen Hardt
- Praise For Helen Hardt
- Warning
- Prologue
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Epilogue
- A Note From Helen
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
Yet full of need. Full of yearning need.
I had to leave in an hour to get to work on time. I was dressed in a brand new suit. I couldn’t ruin it with blue oil paint. Couldn’t…
My mind went blank as I returned his kiss, the fresh scent of hand soap edging into his natural woodsy aroma of musk.
I inhaled through my nose, drinking in the fragrance of his torment, of his secrets.
Of his key.
Of him.
This was all part of Roy Wolfe.
And Roy Wolfe was…
God, no. I wasn’t Lacey. I wasn’t going to fall in love in a week. Not when…
Not when…
His tongue searched my mouth, twirling with mine, our lips sliding together. When I finally needed to take a deep breath, I pulled away, and he caught my lower lip between his teeth and bit. Not hard.
But not softly either.
Just right. Just fucking right.
I inhaled when he finally let my lip drop.
“Bedroom,” he said huskily.
Bedroom.
Leave for work in an hour.
All doable.
He took my arm—more gently than I expected—and led me to his bedroom.
Sure enough, the bed was made. He hadn’t slept, as he’d said.
Which meant he was tired.
He wasn’t acting tired. He was acting…
Again, all thoughts melded together into only desire. Only passion. Only need for Roy’s body inside mine.
“Suit,” he said huskily. “At least it’s a good color this time. But it’s not you, silver. It’s not you.”
Yeah, he didn’t like my clothes. We’d been through that. He didn’t—
He yanked my blazer off my shoulders, and it fell to the floor in a blood-red heap. I looked down at the front of my white blouse.
Blues and grays streaked the pale silk. I dropped my mouth open.
“Who cares?” he said, as if reading my thoughts.
“I do. I have to go to work.”
“We’ll get you a new blouse.” He looked down at the jacket. “And blazer.”
“I paid a lot for this suit.”
“I’ll have it cleaned for you.”
“That’s not the point. I have to—”
Lips on mine again. If possible, he kissed me even harder this time, ravaging my mouth like a wild beast feasting on its prey.
I resisted at first, only because of work and my clothes, and then—
Just the kiss once more. Just Roy. Just me. Just this kiss.
Just us.
Nothing else mattered.
Work?
No.
My soiled clothing?
No.
Nothing.
Only us. Only now.
I quickly unbuttoned my blouse, our mouths fused together, only because if I didn’t I was afraid he’d rip it off me. I shimmied out of my skirt for the same reason.
There.
All good. Only my pumps, bra, and panties separated me from being naked and in Roy’s arms.