Page 39 of Finding Us
I carefully untangle my arm from around his waist and lift the one he has draped over my shoulder. I gently lay his limb back down, across his chest … he doesn’t even stir. I shimmy towards the end of the bed, slipping over the side. That was way easier than I thought.
Crouching down, I blindly feel around the floor for my underwear. I have no idea where they landed after he sniffed them. My face heats at the thought. I still can’t believe he did that.
After a few minutes of searching, I give up, creeping towards the door. I guess I’ll be going home commando. I pause before I exit, turning to face the bed. “Thank you,” I whisper, blowing a kiss in his direction. “I’ll never forget you, or what you gave me tonight.”Because I won’t.It feels like I walked in here a girl, and I’m leaving a woman.
It feels wrong parting ways like this, but I hate goodbyes, and it will be less awkward this way. He was the one who said he was going to call me an Uber when we were done, so I was perplexed when he asked me to stay. Given my circumstances though, he was probably just being nice.
I feel like a thief in the night—a naked one—as I tiptoe down the long corridor. It’s pitch-black and I can’t see where I’m going, so I hug the wall. Thankfully, when I reach the end, there’s a light on in the main room of the lower level, so I can safely navigate the stairs without breaking my neck.
I’m not sure if he lives here alone, so my heart is thumping furiously against my rib cage as I creep towards the bottom, with one hand covering my breasts, and the other sitting at the junction of my thighs. I don’t even know how I’m going to get out of here … I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings when he carried me upstairs.
I was too focused on him.
When I reach the bottom floor, I stop and take in my surroundings. This room is beautiful with all its rich woodwork and ornate ceilings. Furniture-wise, it’s sparce. There’s a large chocolate-brown leather sectional, a coffee table, and gigantic flat-screen TV mounted above the fireplace, but not much else.
The wall of boxes—stacked three high—on the other side of the room tells me he’s either in the process of moving in, or out.
I round the corner and see the large wooden door down the end of the corridor, I’m guessing it’s my way out, but I need to retrieve my clothes and purse first.
After a few wrong turns, I eventually find the attached garage. I quickly put on my bra and slip my dress over my head before bending to scoop up my purse and shoes.
I spy Wolf’s keys still in the ignition of his bike; I could use the fob to open the garage door but that might be too noisy, and how will I close it? Taking his keys or leaving them outside isn’t an option.
Re-entering the house, I’m frazzled by the time I reach the front door. I pause once I’m clutching the knob. What if the door is alarmed?Shit.This place is a mansion, so it probably has the best security system money can buy.
I intake a large breath and hold it as I slowly turn the knob, cracking the door open slightly. It’s only then I exhale. If he does have an alarm, it’s obviously not set.
Once I’m safely out of the house, I feel immediate relief as I dash across the lawn, but that reprieve is short lived when a spotlight comes on, illuminating the entire front yard.Busted.Without thinking, I dive behind the nearest bush, grazing my knee on the grass in the process, but that’s the least of my worries.
My breathing is erratic as I lie there and wait … for what, I have no clue? Minutes pass, and when I don’t hear any noise, or approaching footsteps, I peek out from behind my hiding spot. I’m expecting to see Wolf standing there in those ridiculously sexy grey sweats he was wearing when I snuck out, but I find nothing. The porch is empty, and the front door is still closed. I must’ve set off the sensor light during my escape.
Feeling silly, I collect my belongings that I dropped in my haste and rise to my feet. My nerves are shot as I hobble towards the front of the property. That’s when I discover my next obstacle … the wrought iron gates.Fuckity-fuck.I completely forgot about them, and I paid absolutely no attention to the code when Wolf punched it in.
The rest of the property is surrounded by eight-foot-high brick walls, which I have zero chance of scaling. I blow out a puff of air because I feel like giving up, but I made sure to lock the front door when I left, so I can’t even slink back into the house and rejoin him in bed, pretending this nightmare never happened.
I approach the gates with scepticism. I pole dance for exercise, so I’m pretty good at climbing, but this is completely different. On the plus side, they don’t have spears on the top. Wolf may be relieved to wake up later this morning to find me gone, but maybe not so much if he discovers me undie-less and mooning his neighbours as I bleed out from being impaled atop of his front gates. A shudder runs through me at the imagery that evokes.
Bending slightly, I slide my heels and bag between two of the bars, dropping them onto the concrete on the other side. I take a few deep breaths and rub my hands together as I formulate a plan. Luckily there is an intricate pattern lacing up the centre, towards the top, so all I need to do is pull myself up high enough and I should be able to use that as a footing so I can swing my leg over.
I crouch my body slightly before jumping as high as I can. The moment my hands wrap around one of the bars, I grip the lower part with my knees and feet, using them to help propel me higher.
When I’m near the top, I use my legs to hold me in place as I reach up to grasp the bar that runs along the highest point with my hands. Only then do I let my legs dangle. I’m now hanging limply as I raise my right foot and slide it into one of the iron scrolls that run parallel along the inner edge of each gate.
Using all my strength, I pull myself up until the upper half of my body has risen above the top of the gate. I’m not afraid of heights per se, but when I make the mistake of looking down, seeing how high up I actually am, my stomach lurches. An image of my lifeless body flashes through my mind. I’m spread-eagle and lying deceased on the driveway below, with a pixilated crotch—because my bare vagina is in no way PG for the front page of today’s paper. Imagine the headlines,Pants-less woman falls to her death during her early morning walk of shame.
I may have an overexaggerated imagination, but given my dire predicament, that scenario is a distinct possibility.
Pushing the prospect of death from my mind, I fill my lungs with air and swing my leg over until I’m straddling the top of the gate. My hands are trembling, but this time I make sure not to look down. All I need to do now is swing my other leg over and start my descent.Easy-peasy.But when I try to do just that, I realise the hem of my dress is tangled up in one of the fancy scrolls. I tilt my head back and groan. Is God punishing me for giving up my virtue before marriage?
I fist a handful of material and start tugging. At this stage, I don’t care if I rip it. I’ll ride home in the Uber naked if need be, I just want to get out of here in one piece.
I yank a few more times before I finally hear the tear, but the force I used to free myself ends up putting me off balance. My heart drops as I start to go over the side. By some miracle, or maybe just quick reflexes, I manage to get a firm grip on the bar that runs horizontally along the top, which ultimately stops me from plunging to my death.
However, the jolt from the sudden drop almost rips my arms out of their sockets, and I’m left dangling about three feet from the ground, but I’m alive. My breathing is now erratic as I take a second to regain my composure. I let out a little yelp, combined with a silent prayer, as I let go and hope for the best. Thankfully, I land safely on the concrete below.
Without hesitation, I retrieve my bag and my shoes and start hobbling down the street with my dignity still intact …but just barely.
I snuck out of one house, and now I’m sneaking back into another. Connor will lose his shit if he sees me coming home alone … even more so when he takes in my appearance. My dishevelled hair, panda eyes, bloodied knee, and torn, grass-stained dress isn’t a great look. To the unknowing eye, you’d think I’d been attacked.
