Dream Lake (Friday Harbor #3)(86)

They went upstairs to Alex’s bed, with its cool white sheets and the screened windows open to the salty breeze from False Bay. As Alex kissed and caressed her, the September moon shed cold lavender light into the room. She felt the pull of it, the moon tide of emotion and energy rising as Alex made love to her as if he owned her. As if he wanted the feel of him to sink deep in her nerve memory and never be erased.

He was so strong over her, so deliberate, filling her with heavy lunges while the moonlight wrapped around them. His hand went beneath her bottom, lifting her into his movements. The lust gathered to an agonizing pitch, and she groaned the moment before it uncoiled, but he backed off, slowing, not letting her come. He circled his hips, teasing until she writhed. She gasped out a few pleading words, telling him she wanted him, needed him, she would do anything for him. It wasn’t enough. He brought her to the edge and retreated until they were both sweating and shaking with desire, and he breathed her name with each thrust as he drove her at a slow, merciless pace. She felt hot pleasure-tears leak from her eyes, and he kissed them, pressing wordless gasps against her cheek.

And then she understood what Alex wanted, what he was trying to force from her even though he wasn’t aware of it. The moment she gave it to him, she would lose him. But she had known from the beginning that this was where they’d been heading. Withholding the truth wouldn’t change what was real, what was inevitable.

Turning her face, she spoke close to his ear. “I love you.”

She felt the jolt that went through him, as if she’d just hurt him. But he began to thrust harder, losing control. “I love you,” she said again, and he crushed his mouth over hers, his h*ps pumping roughly. She felt herself splintering, rapture spilling and spreading. Tearing her mouth free, she repeated the words as if they were an incantation, a charm to break a spell, and he buried his face against her neck and found his own shattering release.

Twenty-three

In the morning they treated each other with the forced casualness of two people desperately trying to pretend nothing had changed, when everything had. Zoë found it unbearable, trying to pretend to be light and cheerful when she could see the way Alex was pulling back from her. They talked impersonally while he drove her to the cottage. It was positively gruesome, Zoë thought privately, feeling miserable and defiant. She knew with every fiber of her being that Alex loved her but would never admit it, that he wanted her to love him but would never allow it.

The home-care nurse’s car was in the driveway. Justine had already returned to the inn.

Pausing at the front door, Zoë turned to face Alex. “Last night was fun,” she said brightly. “Thanks.”

He leaned forward and brushed a light, dry kiss against her lips. His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. “It was fun,” he agreed.

“Will I see you later?” Zoë asked. “Maybe tonight?”

Alex shook his head. “I’m going to be busy the next couple of days with this Inari stuff. But I’ll call you.”

“No … don’t,” she heard herself say.

Alex looked at her then, his eyes questioning.

Zoë didn’t want to keep up pretenses. The idea of waiting and wondering while their relationship drained like sand in an hourglass was too depressing. She had to be honest with him. “What I said last night … I’m sorry it freaked you out. But I can’t take it back. And I don’t want to.”

“I don’t—”

“Please let me finish,” she said with a wavering smile. “If this is the point where you feel like breaking it off, that’s okay.” She reached up to touch his taut cheek. “The only thing is … if you want this to go on, we can’t pretend last night didn’t happen. You have to be okay with me loving you … or else we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

He was silent for a long moment, his face expressionless. “Maybe we should take a break.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her heart plummeting.

It was over. He was right there with her, but the distance between them might as well have been infinity.

“Just for a few days,” he said.

“Absolutely.” She wanted to plead with him. “Don’t leave me. Let me love you. I need you.” Somehow she managed to lock the words away before they could escape.

“But if you need anything,” Alex said, “call me.”

Never. She wouldn’t do that to him, or herself.

“Yes.” Zoë turned and fumbled in her bag for her key, and somehow managed to unlock the front door. “Bye,” she said without turning back, her eyes burning. And she went inside and closed the door.

The ghost didn’t say anything until they had returned to Rainshadow Road. Alex felt sick and exhausted. He hadn’t slept all night, he’d just watched Zoë while she had pretended to sleep. He longed to jump into the truck and go back to her, but at the same time he couldn’t handle it if she said those three words again. That had been the deal breaker. He knew he was screwed up—hell, he’d never doubted it—but this wasn’t something he could joke about or sneer at or ignore. This was painful.

He went to the kitchen and saw the place at the counter where Zoë had leaned while he’d undressed her. He remembered the intense pleasure of the previous night, the earth-shattering joy and tenderness of a physical act that could only be described as making love. He’d never known anything like it before … he hoped he never would again.