18
Agathe swallowed at the thickened muscle bunching within her throat. Her heart drummed a mysterious beat; fear or fearless, she couldn’t decide. She’d spent months running from Luke, yet tonight she’d let every boundary and rule slip and run to him.
“I want to lose myself.” She clamped her jaw shut at her brazen response to his question about what she wanted.
His focus stayed fixed, stern and silent. Had she said the wrong thing? Despite the lewd show she’d already put on, her pulse had thundered the entire time. Maybe she’d made a truly stupid choice.
But then, as if waking himself from a haze, he offered a stiff nod. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He jogged across the room, cold loneliness engulfing her, while a light clicked on in a far-off room, the same one he’d disappeared
