He opened the door and flashed the light on the handrail. “Hold on as you go down. I don’t want to turn on the lights.”
“This is like a secret passage.” She followed behind him, the stairs wrapping in a tight spiral.
“Or my own personal escape hatch,” he said, his voice threaded with something dark and funny. “No one is allowed to use it but me. Saves a lot of time when I’m needed downstairs.”
At the bottom, he held out his hand.
She grabbed it. Her stomach flipped and fluttered at the contact. Her body eased into the muscle memory of his warm touch. He’d always been her safe harbor. Even when he was taking her to places she’d never dreamt. She trusted him. Her faith remained steady.
He opened a side door and gently tugged her alongside.
The contrast of the chilly night air against her flushed skin was sharp. But not painful. Her senses were heightened. She breathed in pine and his aftershave.
Silently, they picked their way close to the lighthouse. As they neared, sounds came into play.
The gentle lapping of the water against the shore mixed with something metallic and out of sync. Nature wasn’t so discordant. It had to be man-made. The scrape of a shovel?
In a few yards, they’d reach the wooden bridge. The sounds of their steps over the planks would give away their location.
Squeezing his hand three times, she tugged him back.
He frowned.
Hide,she mouthed. She dropped his hand, turning for a place to conceal them. She spotted a pine tree near the shore. Erosion had created a hollow to one side, exposing its roots and providing a perfect person-sized hole.
She turned back to him. He was gone. Rubbing her eyes, she scanned the area and spotted him.
He’d dropped to the ground and held a pine branch in front of his face.
That was hiding?
She swallowed her sigh and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. She led him to the tree she’d scoped out. She dropped into the hole, pulling him down with her.
Almost on top of her.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. She stared up at him, licking her very dry lips as she did so. In the beginning, falling for him had been so easy. Two friends who knew each other better than themselves. A pair who spent all day, every day together and still wanted more. Before the complications of family and expectations, they’d been two people hot for each other. Her skin burned. She parted her lips.
His intoxicating scent of aftershave and fresh laundry mixed with sweat. His eyes flashed. He licked his lips and lowered his head.
She arched up, drawn to him like a magnet. Every muscle in her body strained. Her skin was on fire.
“I thought this was supposed to be easy?” A male voice said clearly.
In a second, she shrank. She knew that voice. Betrayal from a friend was like a bucket of ice water tossed on her, smothering the fire with cold, hard truth. In the years since she had been gone, her neighbors continued to live their lives. She hadn’t returned to a fairy tale town frozen in time by a curse. Which left her with horrible questions.
Why had someone she’d known forever tried to kill her?How did Zach act normal when the explosion didn’t succeed? Who else was involved?
* * *
Christopher knew Ashley’skiss meface. The memory of the first time she looked at himlike thathad been imprinted on his soul. They’d been in high school, laughing about something as they sat on the boardwalk. And then she’d turned and looked at him like he was everything.
Even now, his chest expanded, and his chin lifted. She had that power over him, to elevate or eviscerate. And he’d forgotten just how heady the sensation.
His fingers twitched, his palms burned to touch her, hold her, kiss her.
She’d pressed into him, rising out of her hiding spot and flooding his senses. Her lavender smell, her parted lips, her dazzling eyes, her shallow breaths teased him to claim her. He wanted her. He’d missed her. In the days since her return, he realized how he’d trapped that part of himself in a deep, dark, and desolate dungeon.
She was the only woman who had ever stirred such passion. With her, he was possessive and obsessive. He’d forgotten how much until she’d returned. She belonged with him, not to him, but at his side. He’d been a fool to ever think he could pay her off and somehow get on with his life. She was his life.
