Gentleman Sinner(91)
The black material of his boxer shorts is pulled taut across his thighs, and his face has a thousand lines of torment etched across it, even as he sleeps. Though he’s still unfathomably handsome. He’s a picture. Like the finest piece of art that has you staring in fascination, a million words of wonder tickling your lips. Or like something so gorgeous that you feel compelled to share with others, because everyone should experience the sight of it at least once. Once is enough to leave a lasting image imprinted on anyone’s mind. But I won’t share. I’ll keep this vision to myself. Selfishly, I want Theo Kane to be my own personal exhibit.
And on top of his visual appeal, I want him as my own personal refuge. I could never walk away from him, not only because I need that refuge, have come to crave it. But because I love him with every fibre of my lost being. And he loves me. Without love, we are nothing. Without him, I feel like nothing. I’m just a woman content with hiding in the shadows of life. Or in the shadows of a place that she’s told herself was safe. I allowed my inner demons to dictate where I went and what I did. And it’s only since I met Theo that I’ve successfully fought their hold. I need to make peace with him. It hurts too much just knowing that the world shaking around us is beginning to penetrate our serenity. I can’t allow it.
I take the few paces over to the sofa where he’s lying and drop to my knees, fighting my desire to touch him. In time, I tell myself. He’s worth enduring the wait for that ultimate prize.
‘Theo?’ I whisper, being careful not to get too close in case my voice rouses him too suddenly and he startles. ‘Theo, wake up.’
I smile when he murmurs softly, his face turning out from his bicep, his eyes still closed. He’s in that place between sleep and consciousness, that place where I’ve just been. A frown is marring his forehead, deep lines stretching from one side to the other. I want him to see me when he opens his eyes, see that I’m here and I want to put things right.
‘Theo, wake up.’ I hold my breath when his lids start to flicker. I need him to see me, register me, and brace himself for my touch. His eyes don’t slowly draw open. They spring open, making me withdraw a tad. Then he blinks a few times, rubbing deeply into the sockets before finding me again. I smile, resting back on my haunches and placing my hands in my lap.
‘I thought I was dreaming.’ His voice is gruff and thick with sleep. ‘What’s up?’
‘Why are you out here?’ I ask, looking down the length of his body. ‘Why didn’t you come to bed?’
He clears his throat and pushes himself up, swinging his long legs off the side of the couch and relaxing against the back cushion. ‘I needed to sleep.’ He rests his head back and stares up at the ceiling. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’
‘Or risk clobbering me if I tried to cuddle you.’
His head remains back, but his eyes lower and a few beats of silence fall. ‘I never want to hurt you,’ he says, meaning so much more than physically.
I nod as I lift my hand and reach for him. ‘I’m sorry for blaming you. I know it’s not your fault. It’s just—’
He catches my hand and places it back on my lap, rejecting me. ‘You had every right.’ His palms push into the couch and he lifts, rising to tower above me. ‘It was my fault.’ He moves carefully past me so as not to touch me and heads for his bedroom, leaving me on my knees, watching him walk away. Pain slices off a sliver of my heart.
‘But Penny’s okay,’ I call to his back as I scramble to my feet. I don’t like his detachment or the guilt emanating from every pore of his body. I was so determined that he should feel it last night.
I took comfort in the signs of it. Now . . . now I’m scared by it. I let my personal hang-ups consume me and dictate how I handled it, and I so regret it. ‘Theo, it’s not your fault. I was mad. I didn’t mean—’
‘It’s all my fault, Izzy,’ he interrupts me flatly, not bothering to turn around. The continued snub, combined with his robotic words, has me in pursuit, moving fast to catch up with him before he makes it to the bathroom and shuts me out.
I manage to consider in the fleeting time it takes me to reach him what I’ll do when I get there. Grab him? Intercept him? I don’t get the chance to make my choice. He swings around and seizes the tops of my arms, jolting me to a stop. My breath catches at the back of my throat, and I snap my mouth closed as he brings his face close to mine. It’s tight with lines of frustration, yet his eyes are softly searching mine. I wait for him to speak, to say anything that will settle my growing apprehension. I feel like he’s purposely distancing himself from me.
It’s a long few seconds before he talks, and when he finds his words, my fear soars. ‘I’ll be busy most of the day.’
I swallow hard, searching his eyes. They’re clear, but I sense a deadly tinge, and I don’t like it in the least. ‘Doing what?’
He drops me and steps back. ‘I have some business to tend to.’ Another step back.
‘Tell me.’
‘You don’t need to know.’
Anger simmers in my gut, quickly turning into boiling rage. He expects me to accept that? ‘Tell me!’
‘No.’ He backs away, unperturbed by my fury.
His dismissiveness astounds me, and before I can stop to tell myself it’s a bad move, my hand flies out, aiming for his big shoulder. He moves like a gazelle, fast and gracefully, catching my flailing limb with ease. He saw it coming before I did. His palm encircles my wrist, holding it exactly where he stopped it, a few inches from his shoulder. I gasp and yank myself free. ‘Do you know who attacked Penny?’ I ask.