Dawn tinged the sky, lightening the room as his conscience (what was left of it) battled against his willpower. He closed his eyes tightly, forcing himself not to look at that ass, at the pussy his mouth knew so well now. His cock wanted to know it, too.
He couldn’t take her. Not like this. There was some humanity left to him, after all, he supposed.
With a muffled curse, he climbed out of the bed, moving stealthily, careful not to look at her, not to wake her as he slipped from her bed.
“North?” Her voice sounded fuzzy and still half asleep.
He hesitated at her door before turning to face her.
She sat up, rubbing at one eye. He wished it was still dark so that he didn’t have to see her like this. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“It’s morning now.”
“Barely.”
“You asked me to stay the night. I did.”
She stiffened, dropping her hand. “I’m sorry it was such a chore for you.”
“That’s okay. You had a rough night. You needed someone with you.”
She nodded stiffly. He knew he’d made it sound like he didn’t want to be here with her, but that was for the best.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice cold, distant. As though she were totally unaffected by him. “I appreciate you taking such good care of me. It must have been torture.”
She would never know the extent of his torment. Touching her, tasting her and then turning away practically killed him.
“No problem,” he reassured her as though he hadn’t caught her sarcasm.
“Don’t worry. I won’t trouble you again.”
He hesitated. She hardly seemed like a traumatized victim this morning. Even with the bruises marring her throat, she looked strong. Composed as she sat in the bed staring at him coolly.
He wanted to crawl between those sheets with her and finish what they started, wrecking that perfect composure. Except she was still the sheriff’s sister and a white-picket-fence kind of girl—exactly the type of trouble he had vowed to avoid—and he was still North Callaghan.
He would never say the right thing. Never do the right thing.
Never be the kind of guy she deserved.
Without a word, he turned and walked out of her house.
Three days later, Faith was finally having that second date with Brendan. She’d seen North once in the few days. Only from afar. When she’d been checking her mail, she watched him pull into the driveway and go inside the house.
So the sudden text from him caught her off guard. Why was he reaching out to her? Was he feeling guilty about the way he’d walked out on her?
Hey . . .
She stared down at that text on her phone. Just seeing that single word, knowing he was texting her, thinking about her, made her stomach pitch.
Sucking in a bracing breath, she replied. Hey. How are you?
Keeping busy. How are you? Everything ok?
Was this his way of alleviating his conscience and verifying that she was okay after Grimes’s attack? Or was he concerned that making out with her and then walking out on her had devastated her?
Honestly, he’d flipped a switch inside her, waking a part of her that had been long dormant. She dreamed of him, waking up panting, her sex aching and clenching.
Last night she had actually resorted to taking Mister Right out from her drawer. He’d gotten the job done, but just barely. Her O had been elusive. She’d finally gotten herself off by visualizing North. By remembering his mouth and hands on her. She channeled that memory and that had done it, brought her to shattering release.
Shaking off the thought, her fingers flew. I’m doing really well. Getting ready for a date.
With Fancy Pants?
His name is Brendan and he’s coming over to cook me dinner.
Wasting your time. You don’t want him.
Rage burned through her. Who was he to make that judgment? You don’t know that.
Faith didn’t even know that. Not yet. Maybe tonight would be the night that nice grew into stupendous.
I do. What happened between us wouldn’t have happened if you were hot for this guy.
We’ll see . . .
Try it. I dare you. See if he can get your rocks off.
He was daring her? She narrowed her gaze and marched upstairs. At her dresser, she opened the drawer and riffled through it until she found her matching black bra and panties. Not the most comfortable lingerie she owned but definitely the sexiest—and the most color coordinated.
She snatched up her phone again and typed: Challenge accepted. Happily.
Have fun.
She attacked the keys on her phone, stabbing them with her fingers. I will. I’m picking out my sexiest underwear now.
He didn’t reply to her goad.
She stared down at her phone for several moments, her temples pounding.
Her doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock. Two minutes before the hour. Brendan was punctual, of course. She hurriedly stripped out of her clothes and swapped lingerie.
Dressed again, she smoothed a hand down the sleeveless blouse she wore, willing her stomach flutters into submission. Flutters, sadly, that were not a result of her impending date despite the avowal she had just made to see if Brendan could get her rocks off.
Touching up her lipstick, she nodded at her reflection one final time before heading downstairs.
Let the night begin.