Page 55 of Coveted

“Can’t imagine why,” she says as she follows me out.

With my back to her, I smile.

She’s cute when she’s uncomfortable. Unfortunately for her, I’ll be making it happen again.

Sadie failed to obey the order I gave her at Altar. She ran out before sitting on the glass table for ten minutes.

That means I get to give her three orders now. She may’ve conveniently chosen to forget the rule, but I haven’t. I’m just waiting for the best moment to remind her.

Upstairs, I veer into a corridor toward the eastern wing.

“Where are we going?” she asks with a distinct note of apprehension.

“Somewhere more your style,” I say.

Stopping at an alcove, I look for a certain book spine on the shelves.

Pulling the book opens the hidden door, revealing the small reading room within.

Sadie’s face breaks into a genuine smile.

“Are you kidding?” She steps inside, and I follow. “I used to dream of having a secret room like this at home!”

She runs her fingertips over the rows of books. “This one has a bookmark in it. Do you actually read in here?”

I grunt. “You sound surprised.”

“I guess I don’t imagine people living in a house like this having the time.”

“We’re not aliens or robots, Sadie.”

She gives me a sidelong look. “That’s what an alien or robot would say.”

“An alien or robot wouldn’t think about what I’m thinking about though.”

The divine vision of her sweet little cunt pressed against glass for me lights up my entire mind.

“What are you talking—” Cheeks blushing, she looks at the books instead of me. “Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

I smirk. “But you do know. And that’s what matters.”

“Oh god. You’re the worst.”

“That’s probably true.”

There’s a single armchair beneath the bay windows. I gesture for Sadie to take it.

She sits, while I lean against the bookcase closest to her. Close enough that I could touch her if I reach out, which I’m fucking dying to do.

The way she nibbles her lip sends blood straight to my cock.

Her brows lift. “Lucan?”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“The car the killer was driving?” she prompts. “You had info about it?”

“Right.” I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus. “We got a hit on the vehicle. It was reported stolen late last night by a Darkbloom staff member. An elderly woman who works in the Humanities archives. She finished late. She said the vehicle was gone when she went to go home.”