Chapter 25
Payson
The room is quiet. Too quiet as I lay here listening to a singing competition playing on the TV in the living room.
He and I were too involved in each other all day yesterday that we didn’t bother to turn it off.
Ledgar stirs behind me, and I can feel his eyes searing through me.
Bits and pieces of yesterday surface whether I want them to or not.
I don’t turn to face him. I just sit there staring out the window across the room, contemplating what I’m going to do when I return home.
But the thing is, I don’t want to return home.
I’ve been able to do what I want, when I want, here. It’s freedom.
“I know what you’re thinking. You don’t have to leave.
” His voice is rough. I turn to face him, trying to read him as he does me.
I let out a breath, stand, and pull the sheet around me as I walk to the windows.
Looking out of these windows at this view, it's become my favorite. The way the early morning sun shines across the land in rays of orange for as far as I can see, it’s stunning.
Watching the world go on beneath you… it does something to a person.
“I can’t stay,” I whisper into the glass. I can still feel him watching me. The way he makes my body quiver under his stare is something I’ll never get used to. If he asked me to stay, would I? He did say I didn’t have to leave, but what would happen if I stayed?
“I’m going to shower,” I say, walking toward the bathroom.
He doesn’t try to stop me, but his eyes keep me captive as I walk away.
I’m not ready to have this conversation with him.
He told me that this wouldn’t end clean.
Maybe I’d rather end it before it starts before I let myself get too comfortable in his arms. He makes me feel safe in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
The bathroom door closes with a soft click, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
The cold marble tiles beneath me cause goosebumps to spread throughout my body.
I move to stand in front of the mirror taking in my reflection.
My hair’s a mess. My eyes are puffy from sleep, my eyes…
they give everything away. The woman in the mirror, she isn’t me.
She doesn’t do this sort of thing on the weekend.
She doesn’t sleep with a stranger, though that man lying in the bed in there made me feel more in a weekend than I have my entire life.
And the worst part…I don’t regret any of it.
I thought I would, but I don’t. I turn on the shower, letting the steam from the hot water fill the air.
I need to pull myself together before I walk back out there.
When I finish, I towel off my hair a little, before wrapping the towel around my body.
As I turn to walk out, the door opens and Ledgar steps inside. “You don’t knock?” I ask. He rakes his gaze over me slowly, but I don’t miss the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip in approval.
“If I knocked,” he says, stepping further in, “you would’ve said no.”
“That’s not the point.”
“No,” he agrees, picking up his toothbrush. “I just needed to brush my teeth.” I roll my eyes and walk out to finish getting ready.
When everything is packed, I manage to scarf down some leftover room service from the fridge.
Ledgar joins me in the kitchen, snagging a bite of my food before he sits across from me.
He just watches me eat, and it’s starting to make me uncomfortable.
“Will you quit watching me like that? It’s weird,” I blurt out around a mouth full of food.
“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it before,” he states, matter-of-factly.
“That’s because I wasn’t scarfing down food like you have been starving me for days, either.”
He chuckles, the sound somewhat soothing. “I have to go into the casino and take care of some business,” he says, still watching me.
“Okay. Go. You don’t need my permission,” I bite out, irritated.
“No,” he says, amused. He walks up to where I’m standing.
His fingers brush against my jaw as he tucks a hair behind my ear.
His touch is careful and considerate this morning.
“But you seem to need mine.” His words reach deeper than they should, because he’s not wrong.
He’s the reason I am still standing here.
The reason I didn’t leave that very first night he walked in here.
The reason I haven’t asked him to leave anymore since.
He gives me that look. The one where we don’t need to talk, just say what we need to with our bodies instead.
His phone rings, cutting straight through whatever this was fixing to turn into.
The sound echoes, dragging everything back into focus.
He doesn’t move to answer it, he stands still.
His hand falls to my collarbone, and his face scrunches up like he’s trying to figure something out.
The phone rings again, and he huffs, almost annoyed, before he finally drops his hand from my body.
He pulls the phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen before his expression changes.
“I have to take this,” he says, but not before he leans in, kissing me with the same intense, fiery passion he's had for the last 48 hours. “If you leave…” he trails off, looking me in the eyes. “This ends.” The phone rings again. “If you don’t want it to… then I suggest you stay.” I search his eyes for a moment, trying to find truth in his words.
Is he asking me to stay? Does he really want me to?
His phone rings again. He gives me one last look before turning to leave, closing the door behind him.
I lean against the counter, trying to even out my breathing while replaying his words in my head. If I leave, this ends. We end. He’s giving me a choice. Him, or the life I used to know.