Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
PEACE REIGNED IN Riverley Hall when we got back. Without Black around, people had drifted off. He led me straight upstairs, and when we got to the second floor, I trailed him into his bedroom. Our rooms were next to each other with an interconnecting door. We often stayed up late talking, and the last thing I insisted Black do each night was to lock that door so I couldn’t get to him. Mainly in case I went sleepwalking, but also a tiny bit in case I ever got tempted to give into my feelings, run in there, and throw myself at his sculpted, oh-so-delicious body.
Yes, I know I said if I ever saw him again, I’d confess all, but now that moment had miraculously arrived, I’d chickened out.
I was such a freaking coward.
While Black changed and brushed his teeth, I paid a visit to my bathroom and did the same, returning in one of his T-shirts with just my knickers underneath. The shirt was old and soft with the tour dates for some rock band we’d been to see years ago emblazoned across the chest. Except on me, the words ran across my stomach, because the shirt nearly reached my knees.
Dark eyes looked me up and down. “Some things never change, I see.”
“What? I’m not really a lace and satin kind of girl.”
He stalked towards me, speaking in a low voice. “Maybe one day I’ll buy you something made from lace and satin.” I held my breath. “Then I can reclaim my T-shirts. Your closet’s like a black hole—once they disappear in there, I never see them again.”
Okay, hormones, stand down. “Do you want this one back? I could take it off right now,” I teased, taking hold of the edge and lifting it an inch or two.
He gave me a sharp look, and I dropped my hands.
Mr. Black, who stole your sense of humour tonight?
He climbed under the quilt and pulled it up to his waist. The sleigh-style bed had a high footboard, so I hopped up and settled back against it, nestling into the soft covers, my legs stretched out on top.
It was my first chance to study his face properly since we got back. The glow from the bedside lamp did nothing for his colour. It kinda surprised me that Bradley hadn’t mentioned a spray tan when he’d been ranting about Black’s wardrobe earlier. Black would have shot him down in flames, of course, but still…funny.
At least Black’s eyes were starting to regain some of their familiar sparkle. They’d looked so tired on the plane yesterday. His mouth was half-hidden under his untrimmed beard, and if the light hit right, he could probably have been mistaken for Bigfoot.
He ran a hand through his hair, which may have been long, but since he’d had a shower, it no longer looked lank and greasy. I didn’t love the look, but it wasn’t awful, and a part of me itched to crawl over to him and tangle my own fingers in it.
The beard, though, that was a different story.
Yuck.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, breaking into my reverie.
“Just about your beard.”
“Good things or bad things?”
“Bad.” I’d never lie to him. Leave some things out, maybe, like the fact that I was completely and hopelessly in love with him, but never lie. “It looks like you have road kill stuck to your face,” I added, just in case I hadn’t been clear enough.
He nodded slightly, the way he often did when he came to a decision, and swung his legs out of bed.
“Well, let’s do something about it.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up, then led me into his bathroom.
Now what?
“Get rid of it.” He handed me a pair of scissors.
Oh, thank goodness. He sat up on the counter, and I angled his face so I could see properly. I stood between his legs, his hands resting on my waist, and started cutting. Bit by bit, the wiry hair fell to the floor, and bit by bit, my husband’s beautiful face came back to me.
I cut off as much as I could with the scissors then picked up the shaving soap and cup he kept next to the sink. Working up a lather, I brushed the foam over his face, then reached for his straight razor. Snick . Our eyes met as I unfolded it, and the steel edge glinted under the lights. I leaned in and began to shave. I was the only person Black would let this close to him with a knife, and he knew with a flick of my wrist, I could kill him.
Neither of us said a word. I’d never done this before, and being mere inches from his lips sent heat rushing through my body, most of it heading south. Awkward. His hands at my hips sent trails of fire across my skin every time I moved, napalm to my freaking libido. Don’t shudder, Emmy. Losing my grip on the razor and maiming my husband would be kind of tricky to explain at the ER. I didn’t dare to make eye contact either because if I had, I’d have been gone. Thank goodness he’d kept his shirt on.
Once I’d finished shaving, I couldn’t resist running the backs of my fingers over his cheeks. Smooth. I stepped back, snapped the razor shut, and tried to bring my breathing under control.
Black sat there for a few more moments, seemingly caught in a trance.
“You okay?” I asked.
He snapped out of it and slid off the counter, turning to look at himself in the mirror. His fingers reached up to follow the same path mine had taken moments before.
“Thanks, Diamond,” he said huskily, then trailed me through to the bedroom.
Okay, I needed to get out of there. Either that or I’d end up wrapping myself around him like a lovesick boa constrictor.
“I need to sleep. I’m really tired,” I mumbled, heading for my room. My heart pounded harder than when I’d taken on a good-sized chunk of the Syrian army. “Don’t forget to lock the door behind me.”
He didn’t move as I left the room, but a second after I’d thrown myself on the bed, the lock clicked. Thank goodness. A solid obstacle to my temptation.
“Fudge, fudge, fudge,” I muttered to myself as I burrowed under the duvet and slammed my head back on the pillow.
He was back, my Black, and my feelings for him were stronger than ever. But how on earth was I supposed to tell him that? At this rate, I’d probably blurt it out over breakfast because my head was a wild jumble of mixed-up emotions.
Sleep was out of the question. How about taking a cold shower? Or going for a run?
Oh, what was the point?
Nothing short of a nuclear disaster would stop Black from dominating my every thought, and that vision of him sitting in front of me on the bathroom counter was burned into my brain.
The contours of his face, his perfectly straight nose, that dark hair. Everything about that man made my heart do backflips, and now was no exception. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be needing Dr. Beech’s services myself. How embarrassing would it be if I got rushed to the emergency room with palpitations?
I tried closing my eyes, but that only made the problem worse. Smooth muscles danced through my mind, and for a moment, I pictured that body dressed in sparkly trousers on stage in Las Vegas. Less than a month to go . I was so, so close to winning this.
Then the lock tumbled on the door between our rooms, and I’d never stopped thinking so fast in my life.
I pulled myself up the headboard as Black stormed into the room. Had I gone red? Yes, undoubtedly. Breathe, Emmy. Just breathe . It didn’t help that even in silhouette he still looked so freaking hot.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
Black stopped at the end of the bed, the outline of his left fist clenched. He waved something at me with his right.
“What on earth is this?” he growled.