Page 39 of Enemies Under One Roof

Careful not to move again, she listened, but from his breathing she believed him asleep. Her heartrate slowed marginally as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

She had no idea what time it was, but moonlight seeped through the windows on a now-clear night. When the rain had stopped and clouds had disappeared, she didn’t know, other than she’d been too preoccupied to notice, or care.

Too preoccupied. What a way to describe what had happened between them! It had been… She searched for the words that could in some way reflect how he’d made her feel.

Revered.

Wanted.

Safe.

Safe enough to be herself, Annie.

But he hadn’t seemed to care it was Annie whom he couldn’t get enough of. He’d worshipped every millimetre of her body, and when they’d finally connected, they’d been so in tune it was like they’d shared something more profound than great sex. Her body stirred at the memory. Ethan had been…

Inventive.

Exciting.

Tender.

Tears gathered and she furiously blinked them away.

Was it because she’d never experienced anything like it before, so all her previous experiences had paled into insignificance? She’d begun to think maybe it was her, or the partners she’d carefully chosen, or maybe sex was overrated, but now she knew that wasn’t the case.

Was that why she’d fallen asleep afterwards, something she’d never allowed before, because she’d been so physically and emotionally spent by what they’d shared.

She’d closed her eyes to get her breath back, her senses under control, so she could decide what to say to him, but instead she had drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Now she had to get up and go to her own bed, except she couldn’t get her body to obey, cocooned by his body heat and divine scent, childishly hoping she could change what happened next, but she couldn’t.

They’d completed their agreement.

She had her pact and the reasons why it existed. That couldn’t, wouldn’t change because she’d never be able to erase her past, make herself worthy of something as wondrous as this.

She inhaled sharply at the dart of agony that struck her heart.

She had to get up. Now.

Rolling slowly and carefully onto her back, she lifted his arm, placed it next to him and turned to face him, immediately missing his warmth and contact.

He murmured in his sleep, and she sucked in a breath, holding it for a second, two, but he didn’t wake, and she exhaled slowly.

Lying on his side, highlighted by a moonbeam, his dark lashes fanning his face, lips that had driven her wild, making her forget every single thing except him, were turned up into a smile even in sleep.

She ached to crawl back under the shelter of his arm and run her lips down his body, especially now she knew all the spots that made him shake and growl and plead.

Her own body tingled because giving him pleasure had—she swallowed—made her feel invincible. Wanted. Safe.

But she’d never be safe from the ramifications of her past. And Ethan deserved so much more than she could ever give him. She knew he valued the truth above everything, and she imagined what would happen if he knew the truth about her, what she’d done.

She bit back the sour taste of despair and distracted herself by taking in as much of his bedroom as the moonlight allowed, anything to buy herself more time. A room she’d never been in before. Not even when Ethan hadn’t been here had she ventured up to the top floor gabled room, which had been his domain since he was ten. Three large heaters remained switched on and angled around the bed. A desk with two screens and a laptop sat under a window and a rowing machine and an impressive set of dumbbells under the other.

Unable to deny any longer she was getting cold, and with no valid reason to delay the inevitable, she wiggled to the edge of the bed and quietly rose, before glancing down at him, one last time, she promised. Temptation quickly followed by regret churned her belly into a tight knot before she bent down and drew the sheet and duvet, twisted at the base of the bed, up over him.

He stirred and she jerked backwards, but he didn’t wake. She frantically searched for her clothes; she couldn’t get caught. Collecting her trousers and shirt but unable to locate her underwear, she decided to leave her bra and panties behind. She didn’t want him to wake and find her here like some kind of voyeur, nor did she want to have the awkward conversation now. That could wait till the morning. By then, she’d have called on Ivy and be dressed and ready for him, with her armour and her resolve as to why she could never have anything more than this with Ethan firmly on.

With one last lingering look at his sleeping form, she made for the door, but stopped short. His jumper lay on the floor, the one she’d asked, commanded he take off, and he had, in one dexterous move, revealing abs worthy of an athlete and a dusting of dark hair on a broad chest that had made her eyes bulge and dried her throat.