Swim Deep - Page 45

He flinched back slightly. I thought I understood why, at least partially. My voice had sounded strange, like the nightmare had infused it with some otherworldly authority. I waited, holding my breath, sure he was about to repeat his former explanations. His face looked gray as he peered down at me, like the soft lamplight wasn’t strong enough to touch it.

He released me, sat up, and swung his legs to the side of the bed. For a few seconds, I just watched in wonder and rising concern as he placed his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

“Evan?” I sat up and scooted toward him. I put my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek against his back. Still, I was ruthless. I craved an answer, or so I told myself. I kissed his bare skin.

“Tell me why we really came to Les Jumeaux.”

He inhaled, his ribcage expanding beneath my lips.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked roughly.

“Yes.”

But I was lying. I know that now.

“Because I’m sinful,” he mumbled.

At least that’s what I thought he’d said.

I stilled. I might have misunderstood his muttered words, but the grief that rang in his tone was obvious. Heartbreaking, somehow. I shivered and pressed closer to him, tightening my hold around his waist, trying to give him my heat, longing to absorb his pain. I didn’t understand what he’d meant. I suddenly didn’t want to.

All I knew was that he was despondent, and I had made him feel that misery.

“It was just a nightmare,” I whispered between kisses on his back. “I was still in it, I think, even after you woke me up. It’s better now.”

He remained as still as a statue, locked in grief. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted him to confess his supposed sins to me, but I dreaded it, too. It struck me that the nightmare woman’s obscenely opening mouth made me feel the same way as I did in this moment: panicked. Like the ground was falling away from me, like my entire world was.

“Come back to bed, Evan. Please.”

He eventually lifted his head, as if he were awakening from a trance. I scooted back. Just as he was about to make eye contact with me, he turned out the light. We lay side by side in the darkness. He took my hand in his.

“We’ll leave tomorrow, if you want to,” he said woodenly.

I rolled onto my side and put my arm around him, cuddling close to his naked body.

“I don’t want to go. I need to finish the series I’m painting, and I can’t do it anywhere else. But I’ll leave… if you want to,” I whispered.

“We’ll stay, then,” he said after a pause. “For now.”

I knew he didn’t sleep for a long time, because I was awake, too. I was glad for the sound of the wind howling and the rapid click-click-click of raindrops on the windows.

It helped fill the gaping silence between us.

Chapter Eight

The next morning brilliant sunshine bathed every surface of the house, defying last night’s shadows and the fury of the storm. Evan came up behind me while I stood at one of the kitchen islands, my phone in my hand.

“Who are you texting?” he asked, his gruff, warm voice near my ear causing a shiver to run down my neck and roughen my skin.

“Valeria. I told her I’d text her the entry code to the garage and house this morning.”

He cupped my hips with his hands and pressed his lips to my neck. I felt his body behind me, ghosting me elusively. I moved back, molding against him. I sighed.

“Thank you for understanding about Valeria,” he said, kissing the shell of my ear.

I turned my chin and nuzzled his jaw, seeking his lips. He found me. Our mouths fused, he turned me in his arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked me a moment later between kisses on my cheeks and lips.

Tags: Beth Kery Romance
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