W e made love two more times before we finally fell asleep, exhausted and satisfied. And that's what it had been, making love, not fucking, no matter how rough we had been with each other. Cade may have been the dominate one, but I wasn't exactly gentle. I hadn't seen it, but I had a feeling his back was going to be covered with scratches. I knew he had hickeys on his neck and chest to match the ones he'd left on me. And, of course, every inch of me ached in a pleasurably used kind of way. I could only imagine what it was going to be like to have him as much as I wanted .

These were the thoughts buzzing about in my brain when I woke. I smiled a sleepy smile and rolled over to greet Cade. My hand hit the pillow and I frowned. I told myself not to freak out as I opened my eyes. He was probably just in the bathroom. Then I saw a piece of paper on the pillow. I grabbed it and sat up, ignoring the throb of pain in my ass as I did so. No matter what had happened the night before, an empty bed and a note immediately made me think about Ronald and my wedding that hadn't been .

I relaxed the moment I read the first line .

My Aubree .

I settled back against the pillows and pulled the blankets up to cover my breasts as I read the rest .

I wanted nothing more than to wake you so I could make love to you again, but you looked so peaceful sleeping there that I couldn't bring myself to do it. I just went to my place because I have to call all of my FORMER clients and let them know that I'm no longer in business. I didn't think those were conversations you wanted to hear. Plus, I kind of needed a change of clothes, though I'm hoping not to be wearing much the rest of the weekend. When I'm done, I'll come back and we can talk about where things are going next because I don't know anything about my future except I want you in it. Well, first I plan on ravishing you. Then we can talk .

Heat coiled in my belly at the thought of him taking me again. I closed my eyes. Fuck. I'd never felt like this before. How was I supposed to get anything done when all I could think about was Cade's body, his hands and mouth on me? How could anyone function like this ?

I opened my eyes and forced myself to look at the note again. There were only a couple more sentences left .

I'm going to stop by the loft too. I developed those pictures and want you to see how amazing you look. I shouldn't be long. I love you. Your Cade

I'd almost forgotten about those pictures he'd taken. I flushed and turned over the letter even though there was no one else around to read it. What would it be like, I wondered, seeing myself in those pictures? Cade had made me watch myself in a mirror while we had sex, but I didn't think it'd be the same. That had been in the middle of things, the heat of the moment where I hadn't exactly been thinking clearly. The pictures were still frames of me in explicit positions, doing things and having things done to me that only Cade had ever seen. Even my ex hadn't seen me do any of that. He'd been very much a 'get in, get off, get out' kind of guy. Not in a rude way, but more of a 'that's how it is' way of thinking. And since he'd been my only other lover, I hadn't thought anything of it until I'd met Cade .

I glanced over at the clock and sighed. I needed to get up. I had papers to grade and if I wanted to be done by the time he got back, I needed to get started. And I definitely didn't want anything to get in the way of my time with Cade. My stomach growled. Besides, I was ready for breakfast .

I didn't know how I did it, but somehow I managed to concentrate enough to get my papers done in record time. I actually went back and checked the first couple just to make sure I hadn't gotten distracted and missed things, but no. They were done and I had nothing to do but wait. It was getting close to noon, so I decided to tidy up and then took a shower, figuring Cade would be back by the time I got out. When he wasn't and it was now past one, I considered eating lunch but couldn't quite stomach it. I started pacing by one thirty and by two I was getting really worried. Even if he'd left just minutes before I'd woken up, he should've been back by now. He didn't have that many clients. Even if he'd talked to each one for ten minutes, packed a bag, then loitered around the loft while collecting the photos, he should've been back by now .

A mean voice in the back of my head suggested that maybe this had been the way he'd decided to get rid of me. That he'd left me too. I put my hand on the place where my shoulder and neck met. The bruise there was dark, a reminder that I was his and he was mine. Nothing else mattered. He wouldn't have left me. If he hadn't wanted to be with me, he never would've come back, never would've said he loved me. All he'd had to do was walk away. And he wasn't the kind to play games. If I knew nothing else about him, I knew that. He was straightforward, had been from the moment we'd met .

No, something was wrong. I could feel it in my gut .

I called his cell and, after several rings, it went to voicemail. I frowned, but refused to let myself panic. He might've been in the middle of something. I waited five minutes and then called back. Same thing. Now I was getting really anxious. I couldn't see him letting it ring and ring twice in a row. It wasn't like he'd sent it to voicemail after a single ring because he was busy .

I might've been overreacting and I hoped that I was, but something deep inside me said that I wasn't. I needed to find him. I didn't know where he lived, but he'd also said he was going to his loft. That's where I'd start. If he wasn't there, I'd have to figure out a way to get his address .

I practically ran down the stairs, unable to stomach being in the elevator, just standing there while it went down, the memories of the previous night playing in my head. No, I needed to be moving. To my relief, I spotted a taxi almost immediately and waved it down .

I quickly gave him the address and promised a big tip if he got me there in ten minutes. The driver glanced at me and I could tell he was doubtful that I could afford a tip that would make that kind of driving worth it. Then he saw my face and realized that I wasn't asking for the fun of it. He nodded and pulled away from the curb fast enough to throw me back in my seat. I spent the entire trip with my nails digging into the seat, my knuckles white, my stomach churning. I didn't usually believe in premonitions or anything like that, but I couldn't deny this horrible feeling that Cade was in trouble and I was going to be too late to stop it .

When I got to the loft, I quickly paid the cabbie and gave him a big enough tip that he asked if I wanted him to wait. I thanked him and told him if I wasn't back in five minutes to go ahead and leave. It'd take me less time than that to see if Cade was there. The loft was spacey, but it was only one room and a bathroom. And it wasn't like he was going to hide from me .

I took the steps one at a time, but it was all I could do not to run up them. I knocked on the door, then sucked in a breath when the knock pushed the door open. My heart was in my throat as I pushed the door open even further, my hand shaking. I tried not to think about what could've happened here as I took my first step inside. This place held a lot of good memories, but I wasn't thinking about any of those when I saw the mess .

At first, I couldn't figure out what was covering the floor, but when I took a closer look, my blood ran cold. They were my pictures. The ones Cade had taken of me last week. The ones he'd come back here to get. I pressed my hands together as I forced my head up. Cade wasn't lying on the ground with what was left of my pictures .

I scanned the room, stopping when I saw a shape on the bed in the back. I reached over and switched on a light. It confirmed what I'd thought. Cade was lying on the bed and the knot in my stomach eased. He'd just fallen asleep. Not surprising. We'd had a long night. Maybe the pictures had been the result of a break-in and he'd fallen asleep waiting for the cops .

I was halfway across the room, already thinking of enjoyable ways I could wake him up, when I realized he wasn't alone. But it wasn't a woman in bed with him. A sandy-haired man with a scar on his cheek had his arm thrown over Cade's stomach .

I almost bolted, sickened by the thought I'd been lied to. Then I realized what was really wrong with this picture .

The man's arm wasn't moving .

Cade wasn't breathing .