Chapter Twelve #4
Annie couldn’t drag her eyes from Ethan as he tenderly kissed her fingers, and not only at the mouthwatering sight of his bare shoulders and darkened jaw.
It was like she’d uncovered an integral part of him and now truly understood why he’d been so furious about the folly photos.
Her nape prickled; how betrayed he must have felt, thinking she’d used him just like his mother had.
Like history repeating itself. She hated thinking of him in pain, hurting, and worse—that she’d caused it.
‘There’s nothing else to say, that’s just how they were,’ he said, lowering her hand to his chest but not letting it go, and she liked that, more than she should.
‘It doesn’t excuse their abhorrent behaviour.’ Her voice trembled and she sucked in a levelling breath. ‘I’m so sorry they were incapable of loving you as you deserved, that they denied you an upbringing full of all the things money can’t buy.’
In stark contrast to her own parents, which made what she’d done even worse.
‘Thanks, Annie, that means a lot.’ He swallowed and squeezed her hand. ‘But I’ve had enough of thinking about them, talking about them this afternoon. I’m going to leave them where they belong, in the past. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ she agreed as he closed his eyes and she rubbed at her shoulder with her free hand.
Lying with him, her body still deliciously tender in all the right spots, she could admit she liked talking to him, hearing about his past, how it had formed him, and sharing hers in a way she’d never done with anyone else.
It’d been so easy to do so with Ethan. Natural and freeing, like she was unfurling herself after years of being tightly knotted and bound. Her chest tightened, because in two days the reality of her life, her future, would come rushing back.
Her vision blurred and she squeezed her eyes closed.
She wouldn’t cry, and definitely not in front of him.
He couldn’t see her like this, vulnerable and raw, making it impossible to conceal her growing feelings towards him.
This arrangement with Ethan was about mutual physical satisfaction, absolutely nothing more.
That’s what they’d agreed, all she could offer and all he wanted.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Concern gentled his voice and her eyes sprung open to see his, roaming her face, seeming to miss nothing.
She loved him.
For a second she froze, shock keeping her immobile.
He leant towards her and fear of him discovering she loved him, which surely must be stamped all over her face, tore at her.
In a desperate need of space so she could think clearly, breathe again, she vaulted out of the bed to stand naked beside it, feeling horribly exposed in every way.
No. No. No. She didn’t love him, she couldn’t love him.
But her heart acknowledged what her mind refused. She did.
‘What on earth…’ He rolled over and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, making to get up.
‘Don’t! Stop!’ She shrieked so loudly it was a wonder all the windows didn’t shatter along with her heart.
He couldn’t come any closer, because then she’d want to tell him the whole dreadful truth.
That she loved him, that she was a murderer, and she couldn’t bear watching the condemnation enter his summer blue eyes, disgust crossing his features as he realised what she’d done.
She wouldn’t survive that, because it would be the insurmountable acknowledgement that he deserved so much more than that, than her.
Her knees buckled and she stumbled backwards, holding on to the wall for support.
He halted. ‘Hey. Hey.’ He raised his hands like dealing with a wounded animal. ‘Annie, what’s wrong?’
She longed to cover her ears, block the sound of her name on his lips, her favourite sound in the whole world. But Annie was the sixteen-year-old who’d killed her parents, and she’d been deluding herself if she’d thought for the past ten days that she could ever get beyond that.
With no other choice she called on Ivy, needing the protection only her persona could provide.
She started with the trademark smile, except it wobbled dangerously.
She bit down on her lip while facing the stark truth; she didn’t want to unleash Ivy, nor did she have the strength to do so while keeping Ethan at bay.
Otherwise she might tell him she loved him. She might risk telling him everything.
And she could never do that.
Even if by some miracle he didn’t hate her, how could she honour her parents and the pact she’d made at their graveside if she allowed herself to fall in love, to be in love? And the possibility of having that love returned? She definitely didn’t ever deserve to experience that.
‘I’m okay. I’ve just developed a sudden headache,’ she said wildly, belying the fact she acted for a living. ‘I have to get up now. I have…to have a shower. Alone.’
He opened his mouth, eyes wary before wordlessly handing her the wrap scrunched at the end of the bed.
She grabbed it and with shaking hands shoved it on and yanked the belt tight around her waist. With one last look at Ethan, his brows drawn together in confusion, she fled, with no clear idea of how she could survive this pain.