The Heart (39 page)

I quickly turned away from her and rid the bed off all the sheets, ripping them from the corners and emptying the pillowcases. I pulled my cart in from outside and began to scrub every inch of the bathroom. I threw the sheets in the laundry bin and put fresh linens down. I scrubbed every surface of the bathroom and sink. Grabbing the trash, I took one last look around. I had done it. In just twenty minutes I had rid the room of all traces of him. Still, he was there. My eyes burned again with fresh tears and I quickly dismissed them with my shirtsleeve. Enough.

Declaring my indulgence over, I pulled the door open and was met by a burst of sunlight. I covered my eyes to ease the tension of it beating on my brow and turned to steer my cart into the shadows under the awnings of the adjoining rooms. I crept past the rooms pushing my cart, knowing full well the squeaking sound would irritate the sleeping guests. I quickly threw the sheets laced with his scent into the dumpster and looked around as though I were guilty and hiding evidence.

I suppose I could’ve just laundered them, but the temptation to take in the scent of him was too strong. I quickly grabbed a bottle of bleach and poured it over them, ruining my chance of any more indulgence. It was a stupid thing to do, but I am a stupid woman. I made my way back to Room 212 and shut the door. I took a scalding hot shower to wash off all traces of his mouth. I slipped under the covers and begged sleep to take me.

I had never expected to feel anything like this again, especially pleasure, love, and pain. I hated the fact that I still could. I hated the fact that the very reason I had avoided feeling anything for so long, was the very reason I was in the mess again.

My name is Laura Sedgwick and I hate love. It had ruined every single day of my life for as long as I could remember and today I declared war on it, for the second time.

****

PROLOGUE

I was a thief of men … a whore.

Not the conventional type that got paid for sex. I was the girl you talked about in your sad inner circle. The girl you shielded your boyfriend from as you cleverly covered him with your body when I came near.

I was a threat to you. I dressed like sex. I knew how to get the attention of any wandering eye. I saw how hard you tried to keep his eyes from me. But they were … on me, filled with longing and curiosity. Keeping him safe in your grasp was smart. I would happily sleep with him if given the chance. It’s not that I wanted to out of spite to hurt you. Half of you would not ever know my motive or catch on. It’s that I needed to do it. I needed to see that want in his eyes—the kind of lust and need you only see in a man’s eyes the first time they had you. It was perfection. It was lust. It had nothing to do with love. It was animalistic and I made sure they brought their A-game.

Every.

Single.

Time.

It would never be better than the first time. No, I didn’t have daddy issues. I loved my father, though he was no saint himself. He showed me the ropes. I took my best cues from him, though he was unaware. It was simple. I loved sex and I loved men. It wasn’t an addiction. It wasn’t a hobby. I wanted what wasn’t mine. No, I wanted to borrow what wasn’t mine. I gave him back to you and you were never the wiser. I was that whore.

If your man glanced my way, I was going to thank him with my own personal brand of gratitude. I would let him take me the way he wanted. When he was done, I gladly returned him to you. He may have asked to see me again, but I would never do it.

They all came to me willingly.

Every.

Single.

One.

I simply extended the invitation.

A native of Dallas, Kate Stewart now lives in beautiful Charleston, S.C. She lives with her husband of 9 years, Nick, and her naughty beagle, Sadie.

Kate moved to the city three weeks after her first visit, dropping her career of 8 years, and declaring the city her creative muse. Since the move in 2010, Kate has written and published four novels including Room 212, Never Me, Loving the White Liar and The Fall.

Kate writes messy, sexy, angst filled romance books with ‘hard to get’ happy endings because it's what she loves as a reader. She has a scary addiction to chocolate milk and a deep love for rap music specifically the genius known as Marshall Mathers.

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