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The idea that she had to fix things with Ryske stayed with Harlow until the next day at work.
Calling wasn’t an option; she didn’t have a direct number for him. Floyd’s was probably in the book. Even though the bar wouldn’t be open yet, she took a guess that Dover or Maze or someone would be around to pick up.
Except a phone call wouldn’t be enough.
Dumb as it was given the barriers she kept putting up between them, all Harlow could think about was how much she wanted to be lying next to Ryske, tracing the outlines on his inked skin with her fingernails. If he’d let her get that close, she’d be able to beg his forgiveness.
But if she did get that close, he’d want more, and her actions had given him the perfect excuse to demand it of her. Demand and submit. Command and yield. They w
