“May I come in?” he asks, pointing toward the sitting area.
I realize we’re still in the entryway. “Of course! Make yourself at home!”
It’s cheeky, seeing as he’s paying for it all, but it makes him smile.
I lead him to the small sofa in the corner of the room, but I forget to invite him to sit down. Instead, I just look at him, and look, and look. I can’t get enough. The sight of his blue eyes, thick reddish hair and his tall, hardy form wreak havoc on me. I’d planned on acting all mature and maintaining a dignified composure, but my plans fly out the window.
Before I know it, I’m throwing myself into his embrace. My arms wrap around his neck. I bury my face against his broad chest and inhale deeply, breathing in his familiar scent.
What follows is a hard, sultry kiss that makes my knees weak. My mind goes blank. For a few precious moments, it’s just the two of us in the world with his lips on mine and our tongues dancing together. I feel the heat of his body and the strength of his arms as they hold me tight. My heart swells.
When we break away, his eyes hold all the emotions he denied me the morning he left.
“I missed you,” I whisper, still a bit dazed from the kiss.
“I’m glad to hear it!”
I blink. “Are you allowed to say that in reply to ‘I missed you’?”
“No,” he concedes. “Romantically, it was a gaffe. I should’ve said ‘I missed you, too’.”
“Did you miss me?”
“Very much.”
“Good.”
He takes a breath, looking like someone preparing to say something important. Something like,I really like you, but my job is incompatible with a relationship.
I don’t want to hear it! Not yet, not so soon after he came back. If he hasn’t said it, there’s hope, and I want to cling to it a little longer.
As he’s opening his mouth to speak, I jump in, “I have something important to tell you.”
“Go ahead.”
“I called my parents last Thursday, after my session with Dr. Biel.”
“You didn’t mention it over the phone.”
“I wanted to tell you in person.”
He retreats to the sofa and sits down, his features hardening. “What did you say to them?”
“I gave them a week to tell the police the truth about Ivo Georgiev’s death and where they dumped his remains.”
His gaze bores into mine, steady and intense. “And if they don’t?”
“Then I’ll report them.”
“Stella—”
I cut in before he chides me, “I figured that if I was going to do this, then I should do it now while I’m so well protected. They can’t kidnap me, drug me, and mess with my mind again. I’m beyond their reach!”
“What moved you to take that step?” he asks. “I thought you’d forgiven them.”
“I had, but it’s been bugging me. After my second therapy session, I realized why.”
“Why?”
