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“If you need anything at all, Kima or the others here will give it to you.” His eyes scrunched. “Will youpromiseme you will be here when I return?”
“I promise.”
Whether it was because I was so bold or for some other reason, Cayman turned to walk away, but stopped.
He circled my waist with one arm and grasped the back of my neck with the opposite hand. “Touch me, Bex. Put your hands on me.”
Leaves quaking in the breeze, birds chirping, the sound of horses neighing that drifted up from the barns below, all fell silent. It was our combined breaths that sang as he lowered his mouth to mine.
His lips were soft, nudging mine apart, then settling on them. His hand moved from my nape to my face, his fingers gently stroking my cheek. Only then did the tip of his tongue touch mine. It was tentative, like he’d just put a toe in the water to test its temperature. The pressure intensified as he explored me slowly, intimately, expertly. The kiss roughened as though his passion had unleashed, allowing him to take what he wanted. This wasn’t a kiss from a friend, or a brother, but that of a lover too long denied.
The hand that had been on my waist lowered, pressing my body against his until I could feel his hardness, his desire for me. It was so different from the inept fumbling in the dark I’d experienced before.
I dug my fingers into his shoulders, wishing I could beg him to stay, to carry me into the house and up to his bed. I trembled when he released my mouth from his and rested my cheek on his chest. His heartbeat pumped wildly against it.
“God, Bex,” he breathed my name as he gradually let me go. Why was this happening now? After all the time we’d spent together—most of our lives, really—why did it seem as though we were meant to be together?
He covered both my hands with his and released my grip. “You need to know.” He looked up at the sky. “I must tell you…”
“What?”
“I love you, Bexli.”
Before I could respond, he was gone, his long legs stalking across the lawn. He hadn’t waited for me to say anything, to tell him I felt the same way.
Rather than follow and prolong the goodbye, I walked some distance and lay on the grass. I didn’t watch the clouds move across the sky; I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift back to the kiss. God in heaven, Cayman could kiss. My blood heated, wondering who’d taught him. Why hadn’t we learned together? Why had I been so blind for so long? But I hadn’t been. I was scared. Terrified that if he really knew me, maybe he wouldn’t like me as much as he thought he did. Or maybe once the challenge of having me was gone, he’d move on to someone better suited to his life. Lord knew I wasn’t.
My family was beyond poor. If it weren’t for government assistance, I doubted my mum would ever eat. My fucking father didn’t make much at his job, but every penny went to the drink. He started first thing in the morning with a little “pick me up,” as he called it. It was a wonder the bastard hadn’t lost his job years ago. He knocked a few back during his lunch break, and at the end of the work day, he went straight to the pub.
It was when he eventually came home that the hell began. He hated my mum, hated me, had hated my brother when he still lived with us, but mostly, he hated himself.
And who did I hate? My mum for not standing up to him, for not murdering the soddingsonuvabitch. She’d had ample opportunity. He drank until he passed out every single night. Like I’d escaped Moretti, she could’ve escaped Paul Fowler.
Cayman’s parents were the antithesis of mine. They were wealthy. Not just well-off. They weredisgustinglyrich, according to my father.
That wasn’t all. They would do anything for Cayman. Not that they spoiled him. They supported him. When he chose to go to military academy rather than a traditional university, they didn’t try to talk him out of it. And when he decided to pursue joining SIS, even knowing he’d be putting himself in the line of danger, they’d never discouraged it.
Why hadn’t they? Maybe then Cayman wouldn’t be hell-bent on going after Moretti himself. He’d be here, lying on the grass next to me, watching the clouds.
I brought my hands to my face when sobs racked my body. I couldn’t live without Cayman. I wasn’t strong enough. No matter what happened in my life, he was the first person who came to mind. The only person who did. Good, bad, and horrifying. I hadn’t prayed to God when I’d felt afraid; it was Cayman’s name I’d uttered.
“Bexli?”
I sat up; Kima was standing next to me.
“Are you all right?”
For a moment, I thought I could be brave, wipe my tears, and tell her I was okay. But as soon as I opened my mouth, I couldn’t speak. She sat beside me and put her arm around my shoulders. She stroked my hair and soothed me in a way no one ever had besides Nonna and Cayman.
“Why must he go?” I cried. I wanted to shout at her for not going in his place. At everyone who’d stayed rather than him.
When she didn’t respond, I studied her.
“This may not make much sense, but it’shismission, Bexli. I can’t imagine the conflict Cayman felt, faced with the decision to send others on this op in his place and stay here in Shere or uphold the commitment he’d made to the teams, the task force, to SIS.
“He’s an honorable man,” I murmured.
“Of course he is. And that honor made the decision more difficult. He’s made a vow to his countryanda vow to the woman he loves. Either way, he’d break a promise.”
