Chapter 19
Sam buried his nose in Ophelia’s hair as she dozed fitfully, drained by her panic attack and her desperate attempt to perform the rituals that made her pain bearable. She smelled like home to him. Yes—that’s what she was. His home. The place he wished to forever return to in this world.
Humans believed in fate, that some things were predetermined. That was how Sam felt as he held Ophelia in his arms, filling his senses with her essence.
No, he supposed that wasn’t quite right, though it was more romantic as a notion. It wasn’t fate that had brought them together.
It was greed.
He’d read through the entirety of Logan’s message history in the moments after he’d hacked the holopad.
Logan had clearly been deleting the conversations as they went—there hadn’t been more than a day’s worth of messages.
They were uploaded to his memory banks now, a permanent record of Logan’s treachery.
She’s acting really weird
Do you think she knows?
Idk… I mean how could she? She’s probably just having one of her episodes
Lol - typical
She just asked if she could keep 31
You’re kidding. She wants to keep him? No way
IK, but I’m serious. This is perfect. He must be wearing her down
A golden opportunity for sure
We’re so close now baby. 31 just has to bring this home and then we’ll have everything we need
You’re coming out tonight right? Crashing at mine after?
Of course. What are you wearing
You sure you want me to spoil the surprise…?
Don’t be a tease, Tiff
The red set, of course
The nude photo and the undertone of the messages throughout the day were unmistakable.
Logan was having an affair with one of his colleagues.
The rest he struggled to make sense of. Clearly, it was important to Logan that Ophelia had sex with Sam—but why?
What did it have to do with their relationship?
We’ll have everything we need
Everything they needed to do what, exactly?
Sam didn’t like the mystery, especially not as it pertained to Ophelia.
She shifted in his arms, her lids fluttering as she took a gasping breath. Blearily, she looked up at him in an uncomprehending way. “What…”
Her gaze sharpened, and he knew the events of the last few hours were coming back to her. Expression turning despairing, she looked down at the bed.
“Everything is dirty now,” she murmured. “I’ll have to strip it.”
“Leave it.”
She glared at him, pushing away from his chest as she sat up in his lap. “I can’t.”
His mouth flattened in disapproval, but he decided not to argue with her. He’d already pushed her past her threshold by refusing her shower and forcing her into the bed ‘dirty.’ She could have a reprieve before he did it again.
“What time is it?” Her voice was hoarse from sleep, and he found that he liked it. It felt intimate, having these first sleepy moments with her, hair mussed and voice scratchy. Few would have seen this side of her.
Logan has.
The thought made his muscles twitch.
“Ten in the evening,” he told her.
She tried to crawl out of his lap, but he held her fast with an arm slung around her waist. He ignored her withering look and her weak struggles.
“Will you let go of me?”
“I don’t want to.”
She growled, smacking him roundly in his shoulder, but it only made him grin. The more she struggled, the more friction she offered his stiffening cock. He could see the moment she realized he was getting hard beneath her. She went rigid, scowling at him, but he could smell her answering arousal.
“Let go!”
He capitulated, not wanting to wind her up again when she’d already cried herself to sleep once.
She hustled out of his lap, her knees buckling when she jumped down from the bed.
He reached for her, but she caught herself against the nightstand.
For a moment, she stayed there, both hands braced against the stand and her head ducked in defeat.
He took a breath to comfort her, but her phone went off before he could. It was just before her on the nightstand, lighting up the planes of her face in harsh relief. Sam could read the message from where he sat.
Sleep tight. I can’t wait to see you soon. Love you.
Her expression darkened into rage before the light of the phone faded, casting her in shadow.
“He’s cheating on me, isn’t he?” she asked without moving.
“Yes.”
She blew out a harsh breath and straightened, pushing her hair back from her face. “With Tiffany.”
He sensed it wasn’t a question, so he didn’t offer a reply.
“That bastard,” she hissed, hurling the phone across the room. It slammed into the big mirror over her dresser, shattering the glass before it fell. “How could he?”
She fisted her hands in her hair, breathing wildly, and her erratic behavior began to alarm him. He rose from the bed to stand before her, extricating her hands from her hair before she could pull out any of those precious, silken strands.
“I pay for everything,” she said, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “I never complain when he drags me all over town to hang out with his stupid, miserable friends who can’t stand me. I never complain about anything.”
Sam pressed kisses over her knuckles, still holding her hands. Her gaze grew suddenly despondent. She looked past him at the rumpled dent in the bedding where he’d held her for hours as she dozed.
“But neither does he,” she murmured. “He would never have…”
“Forced you to confront your anxiety?”
She nodded, a muscle feathering in her jaw. “I still kind of want to punch you for that.”
He smiled. “You’ll hurt your hand.”
She gave him a withering look, but her eyes dropped to his mouth.
“Ophelia?” he murmured.
She turned away, pulling out of his grip and retrieving her phone, staring at it in silence for several long moments. He observed her, wishing he could jack into her mind the same way he had the holopad. He was greedy for her every thought, frustrated by the incompatibility in their hardware.
“That thing you did with the holopad,” she said at length, looking up at him. “Can you do it to find Logan’s location?”
A wicked smile stole over his face.