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I looked back to the road, slumping down in my seat. Shit, it seemed like history was repeating itself.
‘Did you – Were you with her?’ I asked, jealousy stabbing me in the chest for some unknown reason. I’d kissed him exactly one time, and now I was suddenly jealous of some woman he may or may not have been involved with sixteen years ago? I was losing it. I was really, really losing my fucking mind.
‘No,’ he said sharply. ‘Not at all. Caroline and I, we were good back then. Things were good.’
‘Does Dornan know you helped her?’ I asked quietly.
John shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t know.’
Impulsively, I reached for his hand in the dark. He looked down as I laced my fingers in his, as if I’d just given him an electric shock. He didn’t pull away, though. He looked at the road, squeezing my hand in his, and I felt tears well up in my eyes. How had things gotten to this? How had we ended up with the terrible burden of Murphy’s demise hanging between us like a fatal secret? How had I ended up pregnant with Dornan’s baby? How had we ended up in this car, barrelling down the freeway, on our way to Dornan and the woman he had probably killed?
‘The baby,’ I said suddenly. ‘The one she was pregnant with when she left. What happened?’
John looked like the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders as he drove.
‘He’s fifteen years old,’ he said wearily, ‘and I’m pretty sure his father just murdered his mother.’
I took my hand away, crossing my arms over my stomach, convinced that if I tried to leave I’d be next on my lover’s hit list.
Fuck.
We stayed on the road all night and into the morning, checking into a seedy motel that charged by the hour after about ten hours of driving. I’d offered to take the wheel so we could keep going, but John could see how exhausted I was, how nauseous, and he’d insisted we sleep for a couple of hours before we drove the final stretch to Colorado.
The room was like a matchbox, small and threadbare, and when I sat on one of the beds it sagged dramatically. Great. All the trimmings of a five-star establishment. John disappeared for a while, returning with burgers and fries. I inhaled mine, then curled up on the bed furthest from the front door and passed out into a dreamless slumber.
Well, it was dreamless at first, but then I started to have a nightmare. Dornan had his hands around my neck, and he wouldn’t let go. He squeezed and squeezed until my neck broke and I died in his hands. I woke up with my own hands at my throat, as I sat bolt upright and gasped for air.
John must have been a light sleeper. As soon as I sat up, he turned on the bedside lamp and jumped out of bed, reaching out for me.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, not looking even slightly sleepy. He still looked as wide awake as when we’d arrived, and I guessed that he hadn’t slept at all.
‘Yeah,’ I said, tears streaming down my cheeks. Fucking hormones. John saw my tears, a concerned look on his face as he sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed my bare shoulders. His palms were large and warm, and I wanted to melt into his touch.
Stop! I had to stop reacting to him.
‘Bad dream?’ he asked, smiling sympathetically.
I nodded.
‘You’re okay,’ he said, reaching up and brushing hair from my face. I leaned into his touch, the move almost an unconscious act, and I saw something shift in his gaze.
I reached for him in the dark like my life depended on it. Without giving myself even a moment to stop and think about what I was doing, I pressed my lips to his, opening my mouth, seeking his tongue. He didn’t hesitate, his hands in my hair, at my waist, palming my breasts through the thin material of my tank top. I moaned when he did that, my nipples hardening to stiff peaks when his hand came into contact with them. He pressed into me and I laid back against the pillows, John shifting so his top half was over me. Just as I was losing all sense of reason and reaching for his belt buckle, he pulled back.
‘I can’t,’ he said, pushing me away.
I put a hand over my mouth, scooting up the bed so I was sitting with my back against the headboard. I didn’t want to look at him, but I couldn’t look away.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said weakly.
He jumped up and began to pace beside the bed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his hands balling into fists that looked like they really wanted to smash something. ‘You’re having his baby. We can’t do that ever again, you understand?’
I just watched him pace.
‘If I wasn’t having his baby, then what?’ I asked quietly.
John shook his head, agitated. ‘No,’ he said, ‘no. You’re not mine to touch. You’re his.’
‘Oh, I’m a fucking possession now?’ Suddenly I was livid. ‘What, I’m Dornan’s toy, so you have to find another one?’
