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‘You were avoiding me.’
There was a beat of silence.
‘Can you blame me?’
‘I thought we’d decided on starting afresh. No antagonism.’
‘I know.’ Elle rubbed her forehead. ‘I’m just...not sure how to be around you. I’ve never been in this situation before.’
‘Neither have I,’ he said wryly, turning his back to her and unpacking a small gas stove from his pack.
She watched as he lit it, the flickering flame instantly changing the atmosphere in the low-lit room, and she couldn’t help it, she was transported back to that bar the first night.
‘Here, try this instead.’
His voice cut into her thoughts as he replaced the cup in her hands with something that felt decidedly more...luxurious. As the decadent scent reached her nostrils she bit back her objection and sniffed appreciatively.
‘It’s not five-star-hotel hot chocolate,’ he murmured. ‘But it’s better than that ration-pack sludge you were drinking.’
He remembered. The drink she’d ordered when they’d got room service in the early hours. It was such a tiny point but the fact that he’d noted it, and echoed it now, was touching. She couldn’t stop it. For an instant she was transported back to that night. Being in this tiny dark, supply room of the stone building, so utterly basic yet the village’s beloved town hall, was hardly the same as the relative opulence of her hotel room. And yet they were alone again, and she couldn’t help feeling oddly safe. Just as she had with him that first night.
She could keep fighting it, but the attraction wasn’t going away.
Her head snapped up to meet his gaze, unprepared for the hard, heated look in his eyes. Dizziness threatened to overtake her and she told herself it was just hunger from the mayhem of the last few days.
She knew that wasn’t it.
‘I’m still not entirely sure what it is that we’re starting over,’ she confessed.
If she’d expected him to prevaricate she’d been wrong. He snagged her gaze, pinning her in place, his voice clear, confident.
‘Getting to know each other.’
‘To what end?’
‘Whatever we decide.’
‘Okay,’ she managed. ‘Starting with what?’
‘Tell me about Stevie. How you let him hurt you.’
‘Low blow,’ she muttered.
‘Not intentionally.’ Fitz shook his head. ‘You just don’t seem like the type to stand for any nonsense, and yet the things you’ve told me suggest otherwise.’
‘You mean...the sex.’ She flushed, thinking of their conversation that first night when Fitz had dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to her sex. And so much more.
‘I mean the sex, the cheating. I got the impression you weren’t surprised, so I’m guessing it wasn’t the first time.’
God, had he really read all that as easily as if she’d been an open book?
She didn’t intend to sound defensive, but that was how it came out.
‘I suppose you think I was stupid to stay with him?’
‘I don’t think anything, that’s why I’m asking.’
She bit her lip in discomfort, not understanding why it was so important to him.
