One Dirty Night - Page 104

Everything looked the same, and yet…something was wrong.

Something isn’t quite right—

My heart sank.

The side table by the stressless chair he favoured was empty of his current stack of books. His cell phone charger that always remained plugged into the wall was missing, and the one and only item he’d added to my decor—a picture of him and his late brother with a river and two kayaks behind them—was gone off the mantel.

A rock lodged in my throat, and my sleepless night pressed on my temples. The slight hangover didn’t make things any better, and I hoped I managed to act my ass off, so he didn’t have a clue how close I was to ugly crying.

Sniffing as if I’d found fault in the cleanliness of our lounge, I headed toward him and narrowed my eyes. “Already started packing, huh?”

“Yes, well…” He dropped his eyes, unable to look at me. “I did tell you I was moving out. I’m going to start shipping my stuff over now. I’ll stay in a hotel for the final few weeks. Easier that way.” He shot me a look, his hazel gaze a murky shade of brown—a shade that looked a lot like shame—instead of the blazing emerald of lust.

I didn’t say anything for the longest moment, dragging out the uncomfortableness as he fought the urge to fidget or run. Finally, I forced a smile. “Perfect. That works great.”

“Oh good.” His forehead scrunched. “Wait…it does?”

“Yep.” Brushing past him, I padded into my room and unbuttoned my blouse. He froze on the threshold, not taking his eyes off me as I shrugged out of my cream top and dumped it onto my bed. My lacy ivory bra was charmed with the push-up variety of magic and my breasts sat perky and plump.

I would never admit that I’d hoisted the straps a little bit higher this morning, just in case I had the opportunity to strip in front of him, using whatever tricks I had to do exactly what Hunter had said.

Break him.

Pulverise him.

Shatter him into teeny tiny pieces so he couldn’t exist without me holding those pieces together forever.

“Ella…c-can you put on a shirt?” His voice sounded as if a boa constrictor had wrapped around his windpipe.

Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I glanced at him as I dragged the zipper of my skirt down and let it fall to the floor. “Nope.” My sheer black thigh-high stockings were an indulgence and one I was insanely grateful I’d decided to wear yesterday, despite my melancholy mood.

“Jesus Christ,” he growled, his eyes dousing me in fire.

“Oh, I’m sorry…am I making you uncomfortable? This is my room, after all. You can leave any time you want.”

Nick swayed into my doorframe. Midnight shadows gathered on his face as his eyes locked between my bare legs. “Do you go to work every day without underwear, or did you lose them wherever you spent the night?”

“Oh…this?” I embraced every dirty, dangerous part of me and pressed two fingers against my clit. I couldn’t control my reaction. The soft little gasp. The quick little clench.

Nick noticed.

Fuck, he noticed.

His nostrils flared as if he could smell me.

He stiffened against my door, turning into stone.

Struggling to keep my voice level, I said, “I didn’t have a clean set…so…” I shrugged and reached up to unclasp my bra. “I figured the short trip home wouldn’t be too scandalous to stay bare.”

He groaned as I tossed my bra onto my bed, standing there in just my stockings.

“Why didn’t you have clean underwear?” he strangled.

“Because I spent the night at a hotel.”

His hands fisted around the cellotape.

How many boxes had he already packed while I was gone? How much longer before he’d extracted every part of his life from mine and never looked back?