Second Debt (Indebted #3)(39)

Now those same fashions were in my way as I wriggled through the dispersing crowd and ducked down the side of the grandstand.

No one disturbed me as I kept my eyes trained on the ground and didn’t stop jogging until I rounded the back of the tiered seating and disappeared into the hushed world of scaffolding and churned earth.

The second the shadows claimed me, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank God.

There was no one here apart from stacked chairs and boxes of polo equipment.

I could let go of my iron control and indulge in a moment of self-pity. I was screwed up, and I had to find some way of fixing myself.

You’re not falling for him.

You’re not.

I found a place to recline and hung my head in my hands. “You can’t be, Nila. Think of your family. Think about why you’re here. About your promise.”

My voice fell around me like the tears I wanted to shed.

You know how wrong all of this is.

You know what he means to do.

I groaned, digging my fingers into my hair and tugging. A single tear rolled down my nose. It hovered on the tip like a jewel, before splashing to the dirt below.

At least I was hidden. Jethro wouldn’t find me, and by the time we returned to Hawksridge, I would’ve torn out my heart and destroyed all notions of having feelings for him.

I would do what was necessary. What was right.

I just hope I have the strength to do it over and over again.

Taking a deep breath, I drifted further into the gloom. I liked my hiding spot. I never wanted to leave.

You can hide from him, but you can’t hide from your feelings.

“Shut up,” I scolded myself. “Don’t think about him. Not anymore.”

“If it’s me you’re thinking about—I command you to ignore your advice.”

My heart flew into my mouth. I spun around.

Big mistake.

Jethro stood behind me. Scuffs stained his tan jodhpurs and mud splattered his polished high boots. He’d rolled up the cuffs of his billowy sleeve shirt and removed the velvet waistcoat revealing the shadows of his stomach beneath the translucent fabric. His five o’clock shadow was rough and ragged while the bones of his face spoke of stark desire and even starker emotion.

My entire body stiffened. My lungs refused to operate, suffocating me inch by inch.

His eyes met mine and everything we’d been avoiding crackled with uncontrolled potency. The unseen force was tangible, powerful—almost visible with ribbons of lust that pebbled my nipples and sent a clench of furious desire through my core.

His breathing escalated as we stood locked in place, bound together by the swirling cloud of need. We didn’t speak—we couldn’t speak.

His tongue licked his bottom lip.

Our eyes refused to unlock. The more we stared, the deeper our connection became.

I couldn’t look away.

His smell of musk and leather shoved me from my dangerous precipice, and I slid down and down into scandal.

I’m not falling for him.

I’ve already fallen.

Jethro sucked in a breath, his fingers opening and closing by his sides.

I couldn’t go on like this. Feeling this way. Hating and loving this way.

I couldn’t lie anymore.

My heartbeat drummed in my ears, behind my eyes, in my every fingertip. My tattoo blazed, the diamond collar tightened, and I knew out of everything that had happened, after everything the Hawks had done, this was the moment where I lost.

Right here.

Right now.

This was why I couldn’t run.

This desire.

This fate.

I fell in love.

I turned my back on everyone but myself.

I gave up any notion of ever leaving.

I moaned low in my chest.

Such a simple, subtle whisper.

But it was the starting gun to the explosion that was imminent between us.

The air went up in flames, gusts of heat erupted as passion singed my very soul.

Jethro moved.

He propelled himself into me, his large hands capturing my cheeks and holding me prisoner as he walked me backward until I stumbled against the scaffolding.

His touch was a bonfire. His hold was freedom and a cage all at once.

His forehead crashed against mine, his nose kissing my nose, his breath replacing my breath.

In that simple fusion of flavour and souls, we gave up. We gave in. We answered the same pounding conclusion—the same unmentionable dilemma.

We can’t do this anymore.

His head tilted and I trembled in his hold as his fingers dug painfully into my cheekbones. I panted for his kiss. I moaned for it. Almost cried for it.

But he paused for an eternity, breathing hard and fast as if he couldn’t believe the preciousness of what was occurring.

This was a gift. A charm. A wish come true.

I’d become enraptured by my capturer. My tormentor. My would-be murderer. I only had eyes for him. My heart only beat for him.

Where does that leave me?

What does this mean?

Jethro groaned, his touch trembling as if he’d heard my silent questions.

I should’ve had more self-control. I should’ve found a way to stop this.

But I shoved away my fears and willingly slid the final slope into madness.

I arched my chin, grazing my lips against his.

He froze.