Chapter 16 Missing

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ERIN'S POV

I spend the next three hours highlighting the Perry statements. At six o'clock, Styles surprises me with a vanilla latte and a chicken, lettuce, and mayonnaise sandwich. Afterwards, it's straight back to highlighting. Only now, he sits at the end of the desk reading through the documents from Natasha's envelope. I'm surprised by how things are going between us. I hope it stays this way. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't waiting for things to turn bad.

By ten thirty, Styles is pushing the documents back into the envelope. I hope this means we're finished, because my over strained eyes need respite.

"I don't know about you, Erin, but I'm ready to call it a night?" He tosses the envelope on the desk and yawns. "I have a spare room upstairs. You're welcome to it?"

That takes me by surprise. "Stay here?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, why not."

Time had gotten away from us. And although I don't know him too well, I don't think he's a threat to my safety. If he were going to do anything, he would have already done it by now. Bed sounds perfect. "Ok. I think I will."

I follow Styles up to the second level. He informs me the first room is his, and thankfully, doesn't stop to show me. We pass two other bedrooms before he stops at the last room. He flicks the light on and a white room lights up before me. It's small but not cramped. A double ensemble sits in the middle of the room and a teak blanket box at the foot of the bed. The white bed linen looks clean and inviting. I can't wait to get in.

"Good enough for you?" he asks.

"Yeah, it's great. Thank you?" As I turn back to face him, he's already looking at me. "Think I'll go straight to bed." After awkward moment of silence, I say, "ok then," it comes out rushed, "I can figure the rest out from here." I fake yawn and press my hand to my mouth. "It's been a long day."

He nods. "Ok... Good night."

"Yep," I smile. "Night-night."

As soon as he's out the door, I lock it. I must be practical; I'd be a fool to sleep with an unlocked door. After stripping down to my bra and underpants, I turn the bed linen back and jump in. The bed squeaks as if some deep thrusting is taking place. Not that I would know about that. I thump my pillow and then nestle in.

Over the next few minutes, I text back and forward with Simone. She thinks I am demented for agreeing to spend the night here; which now has me second guessing my decision to stay? Not that I can do anything about it now? I can hardly ask Styles to drive me back to the dorm at such a late hour, and I am not about to walk.

Before I log off my phone, a picture of three young men pop up on my news feed. They've been missing since Saturday night and were last seen at a Sydney night club. That gets my attention. Their family's haven't seen or heard from them in that time. My heart skips a beat and I log off Face book.

Later on during the night, I stir in the darkness to the gentle touch of a fingertip caressing the curve of my hip. It's Styles. I know it's him. My skin tingles and tickles at his delicate touch, but I don't brush it away because I don't want it to stop. It feels amazing. Lovely. Wonderful. I moan. But it's the gentle stroke of a finger caressing my skin that turns a tingle into a moan and a tremor into an outburst of hormones and chemicals all swirling within me now looking for a release. The hairs on my arms stand upright as his hand travels along my stomach and across the ripples of the sheet that lay between his hand and my bare skin. With a gasp, my back lifts in anticipation of his next move.

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