“I heard you. But I’m going to drop this rock one way or another, and if you don’t move to the side I might drop it on your head.”
Sebastian takes one step back, breathing hard.
We take turns hammering the bend in the pipe with our rocks.
Nothing.
Chapter Eighteen
Sam knocked on Gen’s door at nine that night. He shouldn’t have invited himself over. He was chasing after something that he wanted too much, that was too dangerous to him.
Yet here he was.
She opened the door. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He just stood there, unable to move.
She’d changed out of her costume into jeans and a casual sweater. Her thick hair flowed over one shoulder and her long earrings swung against her throat. Her hazel eyes were so much clearer than they had been, back when she’d been using. Every day they were sharper and brighter.
“Come in,” she said easily. “I lit a fire.”
It didn’t feel like he was coming in from the cold of one autumn night. It felt like he was coming in from seven years of cold.
He settled onto her love seat. She settled beside him, their bodies close but not touching.
“The groceries?” he asked.
“Can wait a little while.” She asked him questions about Halloween in Australia. He asked about the Halloweens of her childhood. Which led to stories about their best and worst family holidays.
Her company was like diamonds to him.
When he looked at his watch it was ten. He hated to leave but he needed to leave. His alarm clock would wake him in just seven hours. Lack of sleep wasn’t his primary concern, though. If it had been, he wouldn’t have come tonight, because he knew even this shortvisit would keep him awake for a long time. His primary concern was that he didn’t trust himself with her. He’d exerted his control for as long as he could, and now it was crumbling in his hands.
He pushed to his feet. “It’s late. Can the groceries wait one more day?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She trailed him to the front door. “See you then.”
He walked four paces away from the guesthouse. Stopped.Don’t look back. His heart was burning.
He looked back.
With a growl, he returned to her. Sweeping her body against the lean length of his, he kissed her the way he’d been aching to. She responded immediately, passionately, her arms locking behind his neck.
If this kiss were an ocean, he’d willingly let himself sink down, down, down until he drowned.
Where was his sense of self-preservation?
At the bottom of the ocean. Far, far away.
He kissed her for as long as he dared. Deep kisses. Soft and slow kisses. He told her a million things through those kisses about his devotion and his inner struggle.
He separated from her, scared to think what his feelings for her might cost him. But at the same time, he wasn’t sorry for his actions.
“Good night.” She grinned, seeming neither to want nor expect an explanation from him.
