Do You Want Me Part One (This Love Hurts 0.5)

I can’t give them one letter without letting on about the others. And in those, I’m just as guilty as he was. Not in the beginning. Not until I realized…

“Be there right behind you. Just wrapping up something,” I call through the door. Feeling far too sober than I’d like, but grateful that I haven’t reverted back to the raving lunatic I felt like years ago when Marcus left me all alone to dwell on what we’d done.

Steven is off with an “all right, see you soon,” and it doesn’t take me long to follow. Getting a hold of myself and convincing myself that this letter doesn’t change anything.

After all, there are no bodies. No list of names that he’s given me.

There isn’t even a riddle.

He only gave me a simple message and it’s one I agree with. Ghosts come back and I wish they didn’t. He started again.

Maybe he’s gotten as lonely as I have. Maybe he’s simply using me again. Although I can’t blame my part on him.

A deep inhale then a slow exhale makes my chest rise and fall before I take off my jacket and change shirts to go out to the bar tonight, all while pretending those letters don’t exist.

What would they do if they knew?

What would she do? The beautiful woman with deep eyes and a smile she holds just for me, what would she do if she knew I played a part in a case that nearly destroyed her before her career had truly begun?

The thoughts plague me the entire walk to the bar. Even the drum of laughter as I open the heavy doors doesn’t stop it.

She wouldn’t look at me like she does if she knew. I’m far too aware. Far too stung by the truth that she’d see me as a monster if only the letters were in her hands and not mine.

She’d hate me. I let him get away with his bidding and she would hate me more for it.

The certainty greets me at the same time as she does, with her beautiful smile that makes her high cheekbones appear even more feminine. Her tawny gaze and gentle sway of her delicate shoulders let me know she’s more than a few glasses deep.

“Hard day,” she says and her excuse comes with air of ease and flirtation before I can suggest a damn thing. Her smile doesn’t falter and the blush in her skin is hot against her sable skin. With the flowing lines of her slim-fitting, cream button-down tucked into her dark blue jeans, no one would deny that she’s beautiful.

How someone so soft, so elegant and sweet came into this profession, I’ll never know. It’s like Marcus sent her to me. The thought makes me close my eyes, lowering and tilting my head in search for the waitress.

Whiskey will be my lover tonight.

“It’s been a week since I’ve seen you.” There’s an accusation hidden in her tone which is harder now, lacking the flirtation she greeted me with.

“Just busy, promise I’m not cheating on you.” The words fly from my mouth without conscious consent as I glance up at her and those wide eyes blink rapidly, her thick lashes fluttering as if surprised, as if maybe she made up what I’ve just said in her mind.

I’m such a prick for leading her on. But damn do I love to be wanted by her. To be so obviously desired, it makes me feel in ways I’ve never felt before.

Thankfully Sandy interrupts the moment and I order my go-to Jack and Coke, although I don’t actually have to say the words. I simply nod when she asks, “The usual?”

“So,” I say and my gaze is drawn to Delilah’s slender fingers slipping around the base of her wineglass. The pale wine is fragrant, drifting to me and mixing with the sweet smell of whatever lotion she must use. “A case hit my desk today,” she starts and my hackles rise, prepared for whatever case it is to be the ghost that Marcus referred to. “The evidence is unreal, and I’m bored as hell. He’s an idiot for not taking the plea.”

Delilah’s discontent with not being challenged with work always bring a light to my eyes, a fire deep inside of me that blazes hot to tease her, to provoke her in ways I doubt any man has before.

“Is that the case with … what’s his name?”

“Tanner. Yes. It’s too easy to be fun.” She throws back the last bit of her glass and before I can stop her, the waitress stealing my attention for just a moment with the glass hitting the high-top table, she’s reaching for the thick red jacket dangling from the back of her chair.

“I’ve already had enough so I’m going to—”

My hand acts of its own accord, my fingers gripping around her slender wrist. My skin brushing against hers is hot to the touch, singeing and I’m quick to take it back, but Delilah stands there, still and caught in the shadow of what happened for only a split second.