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“Sorry. I just felt like someone was watching all of a sudden.” I stare at the tree line along the far edge of the lake, much too close to my house. “Somewhere over there.”
Lucas sits up and turns, his expression hardening as he follows my gaze.
Of course, there’s nothing there.
I can’t see anything.
He shakes his head. “Probably one of the damn Jacobins coming out to fish.”
“...that doesn’t make me feel any better,” I whisper. “I know, I shouldn’t overreact, but Culver was just weird.”
“What, you’ve never licked a little blood off your wall?” Lucas says dryly. “Think that merits being a little freaked.” His arm wraps around me then, pulling me into the shelter of his body. “How about we head on in? Getting a little sticky out anyway, and the mosquitos’ll be showing up in force soon.”
“Sure,” I whisper.
Honestly, I hate that I feel like my paranoia just put a damper on this lovely afternoon. But if Lucas is disappointed, he doesn’t show it.
He just holds me tighter, giving me an easy, reassuring nod that tells me it’s okay.
I’m learning he has a body language all his own, unspoken gestures and long looks that say so much more than words.
And every last one of those things is full of kindness.
So are his hands when they settle me against the seat on the opposite side of the boat. Then he takes up the oars and starts rowing us back to shore.
My eyes are glued to him the whole time.
His body flexes powerfully as we glide across the water, looking over his shoulder and aiming for the rental dock once we’re in range.
The muscles in his neck strain, hard and hypnotically rhythmic.
“Tell you what,” he says, just a hint of breath in his voice from the tiring work. “If you don’t feel okay going home, you stay over at my place tonight.”
“Lucas Graves, you’re just trying to get me back to your lair,” I tease.
“Damn fucking right.” He faces me again with a grin. “I also want to take care of you—if you’ll let me.”
“Lucas,” I say softly, relishing the red streaks growing across his face, “I’m starting to think there’s nothing I wouldn’t let you do.”
“Yeah?” His eyes light up. “Careful what you tell me, darlin’. I might just do it.”
I glance away, unable to help laughing. “Yeah. You might.”
We say nothing then.
We don’t need to.
There’s just the soft sound of the oars dipping in and out of the water, mingling with our own breathing.
And that’s okay.
But as we draw in closer to shore, I scan the trees near my house.
I swear.
I swear I catch a glimpse of something pale. Just a dusty light-brown blur, disappearing through the trees before I can blink, blending in invisibly as if it was never there at all.
But I’m stuck on that color.
Sandy.
Glimmering strands reflecting sunlight a certain way.
Too much like the color I used to see shimmering in the morning sunlight, back when Roger and I faced each other over breakfast and smiled like we thought we’d be in love forever.
Another time, another place, another life I just can’t escape.
And I don’t know what it means when it feels like we’re just playing some terrible game of cat and mouse now, where I don’t even know who’s the hunter and who’s the hunted.
I hate that I feel so shy, so nervous, coming back to Lucas’ house when I was just here last night, enjoying myself.
I was here, curled up safe in his arms, and yet...
There’s something different in the air tonight.
Something about the way he looks at me.
Something about the soft, slow silence between us as he leads me upstairs with our fingers twined, to that broad, open loft space with his massive bed.
Last night, he made me scream his name all over again.
Tonight, he doesn’t give me the chance.
Not when his lips never part from mine.
Not when he lays me down on his bed like I’m something precious and kisses me like he could never stand to let me go.
I’m lost in this haze with him and I never want to come back.
Soon, I’m not even thinking about the deeper reasons why I stayed over tonight, the danger and weirdness looming.
Tonight, nothing exists but us.
Not the Jacobins. Not the Arrendells. Not my creepy ex.
Not even the dead girl who won’t stop haunting my mind.
There’s just me and Lucas.
There’s just his touch and light and heat.
There’s just his all-consuming eyes drinking me in and big capable hands that strip me bare.
They make me gasp with the coarseness of his calluses against my skin.
God, I love those hands.
And there’s just him stealing soft cries from my lips, tasting me over and over again as he shows me everything.
What could be mine, if I’d just open up and admit I’m falling helplessly in love with this man.
