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He smiles against my lips and it may be the best thing I’ve ever felt in my entire fucking life.

We worm our way out of the tunnel one cramped inch at a time. Once we’re back in the archives, Theo pulls the panel into place and checks it twice to make sure it stays shut. He scrubs both hands over his face.

“I need another shower.” He looks down at himself. We’re both covered in so much dirt and debris, among other things.

I truly hope we don’t pass anyone in the hall.

I want to stay with him. I really do. But I’m already late to meet Evelyn and Emily for a full day of planning an estate event that Evelyn roped us into, and if I bail, Evelyn will send someone to physically retrieve me. Probably Giles. Possibly armed.

So I force myself out of the archives, dust in my hair, heart still racing, brain still replaying every second of what happened in that tunnel.

Back in the room, Theo heads straight for the shower, but not before kissing me silly one last time. I change on autopilot. Jostle the dust out of my hair. Pull myself together. Pretend I’m not shaking. Pretend things are normal.

Who am I kidding?

Normal is dead.

21

EXHIBIT A

LILA

By the time I make it back to our room, my feet feel like lead weights.

Evelyn’s “planning day” turned into a full-blown hostage situation with linen samples, menu debates, and three separate arguments with herself about which donors should be seated near which other donors.

Emily bailed twice to hide in the bathroom for way longer than necessary. I probably would have followed her if I knew I could have gotten away with it.

When I close the door behind me and twist the lock into place, the room is completely dark except for the faint glow from the alarm clock on Theo’s nightstand. He’s asleep on his side, the covers twisted around his waist. Something in my mind quiets at the sight of him so unguarded.

I pull off my shoes and set them down gently next to the bed. He doesn’t stir. I’m relieved he’s getting some much needed rest, but there is a small part of me that wishes he’d wake up just long enough for me to kiss him goodnight.

The shower gives me ten blessed minutes to breathe, to let the steam blur the last twenty-four hours into something almost manageable.

When I step back into the room, I towel my hair dry and keep the light off. Theo shifts once, barely.

I crawl into bed on my side of the mattress, careful not to jostle him too much. My body sinks into the sheets, utterly exhausted in every way.

Still, every cell in my body is hyper-aware of him. The weight of his presence, close enough to feel, far enough to pain me in every way. But not so far that the ache he puts between my thighs subsides in the slightest.

I stare up at the ceiling, hoping it might offer some kind of cosmic clarity, but all it has is a thin crack in the corner. One I never noticed before.

It matches the one forming in my composure.

I am frustrated. In all the ways.

God, I want to kiss him again.

My skin is still hot in all the places he touched. His hands, his mouth, the press of him. It’s all still there, imprinted on my bones. I can still feel the slide of his palm up my back, the squeeze of his hands on my hips, the heat of his breath against my skin.

Sleep? Impossible.

I roll over. Then back again. Try not to breathe too loud. Try not to wonder how hard he sleeps. Wonder if I’m selfish enough to wiggle around enough to wake him.

After twisting and turning for what feels like an eternity, he doesn’t budge. I’m alone with my thoughts.

And the problem.