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I study his face in the firelight, his eyebrows knitted in earnest solemnity. He’s risked his life to save my miserable arse and all I can do is doubt him?
He, too, is shivering from fatigue and the cold. And from the effort of not helping himself to alcohol, I suspect. His face is so close to mine, I can see where his pores should be. I’d always considered his face to be hard, his profile almost sculpted by the sea winds. But at this distance, I realise that what were supposed to be the deep shadows of his eyes were actually the darkness of his lashes.
There are crinkly laughter lines at the corners of his eyes. And yet he seldom smiles. The harsh, unforgiving lines of his mouth are now soft, relaxed, his lips parted as if in surprise at our proximity. Up close, Jago seems like a completely different man. The width of his shoulders is no longer hunched in anger or defeat but wide, wide plains for me to rest my hands on should I ever have the courage. I know that if I did, his body would be hot to the touch.
‘You’re staring at me,’ he breathes, the heat from his mouth beckoning me closer.
My eyes roam over his face once again and drop to his mouth.
‘So are you,’ I answer, just as breathless.
And then I pull back the covers to make room for him in the bed. ‘Jago?’
He looks at me. ‘I’ve told you before – I’m bad news,’ he warns as if afraid of turning into a werewolf before my eyes.
‘Come to bed,’ I whisper, not knowing what I mean by it.
He takes me by my elbows. ‘Emmie, run while you still can.’
‘I don’t want to run, Jago.’
‘But you can’t be with me. I’m bad for you.’
‘Jago, what are you talking about?’
‘I’m not worthy of someone as clean and honest as you,’ he says, his voice cracking. ‘So just… ignore me.’
‘Pretty difficult at the moment, wouldn’t you say?’ I wryly observe.
‘I’m nothing but instinct, Emmie. An animal. So protect yourself.’
‘I don’t want to,’ I whisper, craning my neck to be closer to his lips.
And then he moistens them with his tongue and I pull him to me, more than aware of the sound of our lips gently sucking.
Instinct. Something I’d suppressed for years. In my profession, years of self-discipline and control had been my saving grace. But now, who needs control?I kissed him, reader!You bet your little Cornish pasty I did.
We both know that it’s an instinctive reaction. I can scarcely keep my own breathing normal as my heart is hammering in my ears, begging me to let go. We both know what we’re on the brink of doing and in this moment, my engaged self from x months and y miles away feels like a completely different person. A stranger with whom I have nothing in common anymore. The once prim and proper, buttoned-up Miss Weaver with nary a hair out of place is no more.
Whatever life I’ve had, at my school, and with Stephen and my daily routine, is gone. I know that now. No matter what happens with Jago here, tonight, I’ll never be the same person again. I can’t go back to who I was. Every cell inside me screams at the mere thought of going back.
‘Emmie,’ Jago breathes, sending shivers down my spine. ‘Scootch over a little, for your own sake.’
‘Shh,’ I whisper, sealing his lips with my fingers. ‘I don’t understand how this can be happening between us, but let’s just lie here for a while, frozen in time.’
‘Frozen?’ he chuckles softly. ‘Can you feel my body?’
‘Yes. It’s burning hot. Can you feel mine?’
‘Oh, yeah. It’s speaking volumes.’
‘And what is it saying?’
‘It’s screaming that you want me almost as much as I want you.’
‘Almost?’
‘I can feel your body humming like a power line, Emmie. You’re about to snap. But not quite. You’re not ready yet.’
