Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
The morning sky was still dark, and the city lights blurred past the window as I pressed my forehead to the cool glass. The ache in my chest only grew, which didn’t make sense.
It was one night.
Raiden was a famous football player who had women throwing themselves at him all the time. He would probably forget all about me before lunch.
But walking away felt a lot like losing something that wasn’t mine to keep.
Luckily, I was busy enough packing that I didn’t have time to obsess over him the way my brain clearly wanted to. It took me an hour to get ready to head to the airport. By the time my ride pulled up to the curb at JFK, I’d finally managed to steer my mind away from Raiden and on to the long flight ahead.
But I had a hard time keeping it there when every step through the airport reminded me exactly what we’d done.
After checking my bag, I moved through the terminal on autopilot, weaving through crowds with my carry-on rolling beside me. I was halfway through security when my phone buzzed.
I fumbled, nearly dropping my tote bag, and swiped open the notification.
Raiden
Next time, you wake me up.
I almost tripped over my feet when the person behind me urged me to move forward. I had to grip the handle of my carry-on to stay steady.
Next time.
Those two little words made hope spread through my chest.
I stared at the screen, my pulse thudding so loudly it drowned out the noise surrounding me. I read the message again. Then a third time.
But before I could give in to the temptation to fire off a reply asking if there really would be a next time when I got back, I was called forward.
I shoved my phone into my pocket and focused on getting through security and to my gate. It wasn’t until I was in my seat on the plane that I scrolled through sports coverage on my phone.
Nobody was talking about my banter with Raiden at the press conference. Most commentators assumed his answer was just him playing off Saxon’s reply to the question before mine. Fans in the comments seemed more amused than anything.
From a professional standpoint, I was relieved.
But under that was a twist of disappointment I had no business feeling.
5
RAIDEN
She was gone.
After spending the night dreaming of the taste of her mouth, the drag of her nails across my back, the tight heat of her body around my cock…I woke to silence and the cold sheets where she should’ve been cuddled against me.
A note sat on the pillow beside me. Folded, neat, and with her name scribbled in loopy, feminine handwriting at the bottom.
The paper crinkled between my fingers as I sat up against the headboard, and I stared at it as though it had answers. Like I could read between the lines and decode how long she’d be gone or where she was. She hadn’t said. Only that she was flying out for work. And yeah, I got it—she was a reporter. Travel came with the gig. But I didn’t like not knowing where she was. Didn’t like waking up alone when I’d already gotten used to her sleeping beside me.
My head fell back, and I stared at the ceiling. One night, and she’d already gotten into my bloodstream. Now she was gone, and I was supposed to go back to normal? What the hell even was normal after last night?
I forced myself out of bed and trudged into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. This morning felt off. The silence stretched out in a way that it never had before. My apartment was too damn quiet without her in it. Even the city noise filtering in from twenty stories below couldn’t fill the space.
My jaw clenched as I pushed back from the kitchen island and set the mug down with a dull thud. I had no appetite for breakfast, which felt ironic considering I’d been starving last night. Then she fed me something I’d never tasted before, and now I was stuck trying to figure out how the hell to function without it.
I walked back to my bedroom and picked up my phone. Son of a bitch. I didn’t have her phone number. But I knew who could get it for me…and keep it on the down low.
Jonah Carrington was a local billionaire who owned one of the best, if not the best, security companies in the world. Cybersecurity was their specialty, but they also had a division for human security.
I knew him through my boss, Lennox, so he’d given me his info a couple of years back in case I ever needed it.
As I padded into the bathroom, I shot off a text asking for her number and explaining why. I received several laughing emoji and a jibe about how he’d become the go-to guy for stalking. He wasn’t exactly wrong since he’d helped several guys I knew keep tabs on their women, even after they’d married them. Himself included. But that wasn’t an open service. He only did it for a very select group of people. One that I never thought I’d join until I met Marissa.