Till Death(50)

The hand above my hip moved a little. “I know.”

Obviously, he remembered the nightmare from last night. Even then, he knew better. “Maybe tonight will be different.”

I wasn’t so sure of that, for different reasons than normal, but I stayed quiet as Cole settled in behind me. Like right behind me. The hand at my hip slid forward, over my stomach, and then he hauled me back against his chest.

Oh gosh.

We hadn’t done this before. And I hadn’t done it with anyone that I . . . that I had wanted to. The men I’d been intimate with never stayed the night. Never. This was new. I was cuddling. Or was it spooning? His leg moved against the back of mine, and then shifted. His hips pressed into my behind. Oh man. He was still . . . aroused. So was I.

“I . . .”

“What, babe?” he murmured.

I wet my lower lip. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, not with anyone I chose to be with.”

Cole didn’t respond for a long moment and then I felt him brush my hair off my shoulder. His lips pressed against the skin there.

“It’s nice,” I admitted, and maybe I did because it was dark and we couldn’t see each other.

His arm tightened. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s nice.”

I let out a shaky breath. “And I’m sorry about freaking out on you yesterday at dinner.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He shifted, easing his leg between mine.

“I do. I was . . . I don’t even know what I was doing.” I paused. “I ruined dinner.”

“Babe . . .”

“I did,” I whispered.

His lips coasted over my shoulder again. “You didn’t ruin dinner. A dead deer in the truck did.”

My lips kicked up at the corners. “Good point.”

“I’m always right.” His voice sounded heavier. “I know there’s been a lot of time since we’ve been apart, but how could you forget that?”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

He chuckled deeply. “You’ll start remembering that soon enough.”

In the dark, I didn’t fight the smile. It spread across my face. Several moments passed. “Cole?”

“Mmm?” he muttered.

I could tell he was half asleep. “Nothing.”

“What?” His arm squeezed my waist. “What, Sasha?”

“When I woke up this morning, I never thought . . . I didn’t think this would happen,” I said. “But I’m glad it is happening.”

That got me another arm squeeze. “Me too.”

After that, I stayed silent, and the warmth of his front against my back had the strangest effect on me. As cliché as it sounded, as completely unbelievable, I was out before I knew it, falling asleep in Cole’s arms for the first time.



Cole was up and gone before I woke up, proving that he had been right about today being different. And today did feel different. It wasn’t that my head was in the clouds or that I forgot everything else that was going on, but by Friday afternoon, I realized that maybe the difference was because I was letting Cole in, and it wasn’t so much about him, but more about the act itself.

I was opening up.

And that meant I was living.

I just hoped that somewhere, Angela was doing the same.

We had guests checking in, the first a young couple who appeared to be really into the history of the Scarlet Wench and the surrounding area. They were adorable—adorably nerdy. As I helped them carry their bags upstairs, I gave them directions to the nearby battlefield. They’d booked one of the suites.

“This room is gorgeous.” Mrs. Ritchie dropped her bag on the four-poster queen-size bed. She looked around the room. “It’s like stepping back in time.”

That’s one way of putting it, I thought as I reached into the pocket of my jeans. “Ah, I forgot to grab an extra key for you,” I said. They’d requested two at checkin. “I’ll go grab that key for you now.”

“Can you leave it at the desk?” Mr. Ritchie asked, his eyes on his wife. “We may be . . . a little busy for a while.”

Oh dear.

His wife giggled.

I smiled as I walked back toward the door. “I can hold it at the desk for you.” I stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind me. “Have fun.”

Mrs. Ritchie’s giggle turned into a happy squeal, and I turned away from the door, walking toward the end of the hall at the back of the inn for the staff staircase. I was going to have to move my laptop out to the front desk and work from there since I couldn’t just leave their key there.

Opening the door, I entered the narrow, much cooler staircase. It smelled like mothballs no matter how many times anyone sprayed air freshener in here, and it creeped me out. The smell was most likely because the stairs continued all the way to the cellar. I hurried down, my hand trailing along the old wooden rail. Rounding the second-floor landing, I took the steps two at a time and reached for the door at the same time it swung open.

I couldn’t move back quick enough.

The brass handle caught me in the stomach, the force knocking me back. My arms flailed out as I let out a surprised shriek. All I saw was a white shirt with a logo on it that was vaguely familiar and a black baseball cap with the same emblem—a gray something. I grabbed for the railing, my fingers slipping around the wood, catching myself before I tumbled down the set leading to the cellar.