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Chapters (64)
  1. Recluse
  2. Dedication
  3. Book Description
  4. Also By Helen Hardt
  5. Praise For Helen Hardt
  6. Warning
  7. Prologue
  8. Charlie
  9. Roy
  10. Charlie
  11. Roy
  12. Charlie
  13. Roy
  14. Charlie
  15. Roy
  16. Charlie
  17. Roy
  18. Charlie
  19. Roy
  20. Charlie
  21. Roy
  22. Charlie
  23. Roy
  24. Charlie
  25. Roy
  26. Charlie
  27. Roy
  28. Charlie
  29. Roy
  30. Charlie
  31. Roy
  32. Charlie
  33. Roy
  34. Charlie
  35. Roy
  36. Charlie
  37. Roy
  38. Charlie
  39. Roy
  40. Charlie
  41. Roy
  42. Charlie
  43. Roy
  44. Charlie
  45. Roy
  46. Charlie
  47. Roy
  48. Charlie
  49. Roy
  50. Charlie
  51. Roy
  52. Charlie
  53. Roy
  54. Charlie
  55. Roy
  56. Charlie
  57. Roy
  58. Charlie
  59. Roy
  60. Charlie
  61. Epilogue
  62. A Note From Helen
  63. Acknowledgments
  64. 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.