Page 112 of Things We Left Behind

“Personally, I’m a fan of sweaty, dirty sex. It always seems to set the world right again,” Sloane said cheerfully. “You should try it sometime.”

A strangled sound tore free from my throat. My cock pulsed and I pressed my palm over it, hoping to suffocate the arousal. I wasn’t going to sit here having a conversation on the phone with a woman and jerk off. Even if that woman was Sloane.

She laughed softly. “Only messing with you, Lucifer.”

But I could picture her sprawled beneath me. Her hair fanned over a pillow like a halo. Those milky thighs locked around my hips. Her breasts half an inch from heaving out of one of those useless tops with the spaghetti straps.

“Oh, so you don’t actually enjoy sweaty, dirty sex?” I shot back.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She all but purred the words in my ear.

I didn’t know what the right move was, what tactic I should employ. Because I couldn’t have what I wanted. I didn’t want what I wanted.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked gruffly.

“Some pain in the ass wouldn’t stop texting me,” she said lightly.

I could hear the smile in her voice, could picture it in my mind. That slow, sultry curve of her lips usually reserved for anyone who wasn’t me.

This was a mistake. I was making another mistake. I couldn’t stop myself. Sloane was the bad habit I couldn’t quit.

“You should go to bed,” I said.

“Geez. Maybe you should take a class in how to talk to people without sounding like an ass.”

“I don’t have time for pillow talk with you.”

“That settles it. My next book club selection is going to be something aboutDr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Maybe then I’ll understand why you go from almost human to Lucifer between two sentences.”

It was a dance we’d been locked into for years. Every time one of us showed a side that was a little too human, the other managed to strike. Walls were rebuilt, animosity reinforced. We kept relearning the same lesson over and over again, but it never stuck. We weren’t good for each other. I wasn’t good for her. And I could never trust a woman who had so thoroughly betrayed me.

“Don’t waste your time thinking about me. I don’t waste any of mine on you,” I told her.

With her gasp ringing in my ear, I disconnected the call, switched off the light, and lay in the dark hating myself.

18

Ruins of the Past

Sloane

Idragged the recycling bin up the short stretch of concrete, around Lucian’s Range Rover, and plunked it down in front of his garage door. It was a dark, damp Saturday evening.

It had been one of those days where one thing went wrong followed by everything else spiraling out of control. The computers in the library had crashed for over an hour, my shipment of paperbacks for the Valentine’s Day author signing arrived missing their covers,andI’d squeezed in a fourth blind date in hopes that BeardedByron223 would turn out to be better than my last three matches.

He was not. BeardedByron was neither bearded nor a fan of Lord Byron. He’d shown up late and drunk, and in the middle of me telling him it wasn’t going to work out, he took a phone call from his current girlfriend and told her he was at the gym.

He was so not better than the last three that I had plans to curl up tonight by the fire with the sperm bank’s website. If I couldn’t find a date with future husband potential, maybe I’d have better luck with a child.

To add to my already bad mood, I’d spent the past few days ruminating about Lucian. Lucian having dinner with my mom. Lucian texting me from bed. Lucian generously giving his employee a brand-­new SUV. Lucian almost kissing me in his office. Lucian working with the FBI to take down one of the most dangerous criminals in the Mid-­Atlantic region area. Lucian naked, crooking his finger at me.

That last one hit me in the shower yesterday after I spied his Range Rover in the driveway. Then again right before bed…and when I woke up…

I liked it better when I only occasionally remembered that the man existed.

We were on a never-­ending roller coaster of insults, sexual awareness, bitterness, and flirtation. And it was time to put an end to it. I wanted to get off this ride so I could focus my energy on what I actually wanted…which wasnotLucian Rollins.

I marched up the walkway to his front door, finger poised to jab his doorbell, when the door swung open.