She folds her arms, but her gaze is wide as she takes in thestunning scenery surrounding my home town. I let her stew in silence as I set a leisurely pace. A few miles out, I take a turn onto a single track road which narrows as it guides us deeper into the woods surrounding the lake.
After coming to a stop and killing the engine, I grab the cooler and backpack from the trunk before opening the door for Cleo. I lean in with a rakish smile and drop a pair of white bikini bottoms on her lap. They have starred in my dreams more times than I care to admit this week. She lifts them up with two fingers and raises a brow. I wink back at her before redirecting my attention to the open backpack in my hand. I pull out a pair of sneakers I took from her closet and hand them to her. As I rezip the backpack, I can’t stop my gaze from running down her shapely legs before landing on the heels she’s wearing.
“While I have had a thousand fantasies of the things I want to do to you in those heels, they aren’t suitable for this terrain, and I don’t want you to break an ankle.”
She huffs as she swaps her footwear and shimmies into the bikini bottoms underneath her dress, as if I hadn’t had my tongue buried inside her an hour ago.
I hold my hand out to her. She rolls her eyes and hops out of the car, ignoring it. I shake my head and lead the way into the thick forest.
“Great place to murder someone,” she mutters from behind me.
I cast her a quick glance over my shoulder. “Not today.”
She snorts, and her shoulders relax a little. I know it’s costing her to put a little trust in me, but it will be worth it. The first step to healing is trusting someone and finding they aren’t here to hurt you.
The five minute trek gives way to a clearing at one end of the small, yet stunning lake. Cleo gasps behind me as I drop thecooler and backpack underneath a tree in the shade. I retrieve the sunscreen while Cleo draws closer to the edge of the lake.
A thick line of trees surround the crystal-clear water, offering a decent amount of privacy. There is no signage or well worn paths that would lead tourists to the spot, and it looks like we are totally alone.
“Apparently, Amalee and Samuel ended their evening together,” Cleo says, raising her hand over her eyes to squint back at me.
“Good. It’s about time they stopped looking elsewhere. Sometimes, when childhood friends are perfect matches, they can’t see it.” If she is looking for any indication I have the slightest amount of interest in Amalee Cage, then she will be sorely disappointed. I wave the sunscreen bottle at her. “Take your dress off. I don’t want you getting burned.”
She rolls her eyes and drags the hem of the dress up and over her head. I pluck it out of her hands and hang it on a tree branch. When I spin back around, she also hands me her bra. Okay, then. Seems my shy Cleo is shielding a confidence that I want to nurture to life. Something tells me this is how she was before her marriage. I meant what I said—she should mourn the woman she once was. You can’t go through what she has endured and not have it alter your brain chemistry.
I squirt some of the sunscreen into my hands and work it into her shoulders and back. She sighs as her whole body relaxes, and I store away the fact she likes massages. My hands work along her collarbone, then dip lower. Her breathing stutters as my thumbs skate the curve of her breasts. I drop a kiss on the sensitive flesh just below her ear as my fingers skim her nipples. Her back arches as she pushes her ass against me.
“Behave,” I utter. “This is about staying cool on a hot summer’s day.”
She smirks at me over her shoulder, then toes off hersneakers before running into the lake and diving in once it’s deep enough. She breaks the surface and spins to face me, her eyes widening at my lack of clothing. I dive into the refreshing water and head toward her, surfacing about a yard away. I tread water while she tips her head back, letting her gorgeous red hair float around her.
“What’s your real hair color?” I wonder.
Her lips twitch. “Is that your truth for the day?” The fact she’s entertaining telling me something about herself that could help identify her, isn’t lost on me. But I have a hundred more important questions I need answers to before this.
“No.”
She drags her head up and stares at me. “Honey blonde.”
Okay, now I need to see that one day. “Will you go back to it?”
She shakes her head. “Not as long as I’m being hunted.”
“And if you stop running?”
“I can’t,” she whispers. “The consequences would be too great. Death would be a welcome mercy he would never grant.”
Jesus Christ, what did that bastard do?
I reach for her and drag her closer until she wraps her legs around me, the demons haunting her eyes back in full force. My arms band around her waist as I try to ground her in the present, but there is a question I want answered.
“In the bottom of your duffle bag,” I start. Her entire body stiffens. “There’s a corset.”
She quirks a brow at me. Okay, she’s determined to make this harder. That’s fair—if I’m not strong enough to ask the question, I don’t deserve an answer.
“Is it something you chose to wear?”
“No.”
