Sherlock woofed. Accepted.
“You drive a hard bargain, pup.”
Once inside, Saxon stripped and crawled back into the bed. Pulling Murphy into his arms, he savored the feel of holding a soft, warm woman.
Damned if she didn’t wiggle closer.
She was a cuddler.
Smiling, he fell asleep thinking about what he might teach her in the morning.
Three hours later, he was called in to do emergency surgery on a golden doodle that’d been hit by a car.
As he drove away from the hotel, he shook his head. Such was life, and perhaps for the best.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Murphy woke and blinked against the bright light coming through the hotel window. Rolling over, she found the bed empty.
Oh. When she sat up, she saw that Saxon’s clothes were gone. So were Sherlock’s bed and food bowl.
She was all alone.
No, don’t get all sad and disheartened, girl. She’d known when she accepted his invitation it would be a one and done sort of thing. He’d been very clear. “Just tonight. For fun.”
Spotting a folded paper propped up on the nightstand, she picked it up.
“Thank you for a wonderful time. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in a very long time.
~ Saxon”
Oh, wow. Happiness bubbled up inside her. He hadn’t had to say anything, and she doubted he handed out empty compliments.
She hadn’t disappointed him.
He’d said she wouldn’t—because he wouldn’t let her. A snort escaped her. Now she knew exactly what that meant.
However, no matter how much fun he’d had, he didn’t leave any contact information.
Right.
She shook her head and slid out of bed, wincing as her girl parts complained. Rough sex, for sure.
And she definitely needed a shower.
In the bathroom, she glanced in the mirror and gasped. Her hair was in tangles, her nipples as swollen and red as her lips. The redness on her cheeks and neck was probably from beard burn. Bite marks showed on her breasts.
And now she was grinning at herself in the mirror…because it felt oddly satisfying to have visible souvenirs of the most amazing sex ever.
After filling a tray with food from the restaurant buffet, Murphy looked around the mostly empty room. None of her new team was in the dining room. Neither was Saxon. Even as disappointment welled up, she knew she was an idiot.
Had she really fostered a wayward hope he would still be here and would what…? Drop to his knees and tell her he’d been waiting for her all his life? That she was amazing and gorgeous—and great in bed?
Guuurl, you need to be writing children’s fairy tales instead of adult thrillers.
“Hey, Murph, over here!” Yesenia from her old team waved from a corner table. She looked wide awake, her black hair sectioned into Bantu knots, her makeup perfect. In contrast, Murphy felt like a slovenly mess.
“Are you the only one still here?” Murphy sat across from her and started in on what made breakfast the best meal of the day—bacon. She’d added sausage patties because nutritionists said variety was healthy.
“Woman, you’re going to die of a heart attack before you’re forty.” Yesenia rolled her eyes and took a bite of oatmeal with fruit stuff in it. “Especially since you sit all day long.”
“Hey, I got plenty of exercise during the search.”
Yesenia snickered. “And even more last night?” She patted her cheeks to show she’d seen all the beard burn.
Dammit, men should have to shave before having sex. Knowing she was flushing, Murphy grinned and shrugged. “It’s a good way to celebrate a successful search.”
“And Saxon is amazing in bed.”
Murphy’s mouth dropped open. “You…?”
“Oh no, not me.” Yesenia flashed her engagement ring. “I don’t cheat, and I’ve never seen Saxon even flirt with a woman who has a guy. But that boy gets around.”
“Oh, yeah, I guessed that.”
“Did you also guess that he avoids anything serious like it might make his dick fall off?”
Murphy choked. “What a visual.”
Yesenia’s smile faded. “Just bear in mind that he’s not a keeper. One of my besties fell hard for him, even though he never hid that he was dating other women, and all he wanted was friends with benefits. She kept pushing, and he dumped her. Politely enough, but still.”
“Ouch.”
“Uh-huh. She got all depressed and damn bitter.” Yesenia pointed her toast at Murphy. “Don’t you be getting your hopes up. He’s not a player—he’s very upfront about what he wants. But he’s not going to change.”
Murphy nodded, feeling way too much sympathy for Yesenia’s bestie. “Thank you for the warning.”
With a resolute foot, she squashed every bit of wanting to see the Dom again. In fact, she’d see what days Saxon went to SAR practices and make sure to avoid those. There were plenty of other flankers he could pair with; he didn’t need her.
In fact, she’d treat the man like she would any unhealthy craving. Like with cookies where she avoided the aisle in the store and definitely didn’t bring home any high-calorie, tasty indulgences—like Oreos.
Got it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Damn, the days were passing quickly. It was already late September at the autumn equinox, and Murphy’s book had bogged down in the middle.
The plot started off well. The hero, Lord Montague, and his wife, Dinah, were asked to investigate the murder of a friend’s son at the notorious Brimstone Club. There was a well-placed hint of a conspiracy to murder the Duke of Wellington, which would, of course, be a disaster for the fighting against Napoleon. Montague would join the club; Dinah would go undercover and get hired as a servant.