Chapter 15 #3
Seeing how Troy is with Comet makes my chest ache; I don’t know why. Maybe because he’s speaking softly for once, moving his hand with deliberate care…
The same hands that pinned me to bed and choked the air from my lungs.
The same hands that dragged through my hair and drove into the softest parts of me as he devoured my mouth.
My stomach does a little flutter at the memory.
Especially when I become aware how soaked through his shirt is, and buttoned partway, like he had been changing when he came back to the barn and got caught in the rain.
I’m mesmerized all of a sudden by the way the fabric clings to his skin, nearly transparent, giving me a glimpse of his ripped muscles beneath.
I drink in the sight of his carved abs, straight to the taut V that disappears into his jeans.
A dark pulse of traitorous curiosity spills through me, then, forcing me to avert my gaze quickly back up to his chest. Only to settle on a mesh of twisted scars there.
Did he get those from the fire?
They look like burns.
Troy Severin chooses that moment to look up. Making our eyes lock.
I give a little squeak, and a wave of shame burns me from my toes up, leaving my face hot and my body positively feverish.
He straightens, his hooded eyes never leaving mine. “You left the main barn doors open.”
“N-no, I closed them.”
He sighs. “I meant when you came in earlier.”
My cheeks are burning now, and an ache builds somewhere I refuse to acknowledge. “Oh, I-I didn’t realize…” I look elsewhere, I have to, fiddling with the button on my cardigan. Looking directly at him makes it worse.
“If you’re going to wander in places you aren’t supposed to be, at least try to remember to close doors behind you?” His voice is cutting, slicing me in two.
“Sorry.” Another squeak. God, I sound like a mouse. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do. These are expensive animals.”
Silence follows.
Slowly, I meet his eyes. Water drips off his hair as he stares at me. It lands on his chest and rolls down.
The urge to lick it comes out of nowhere.
“Sage.”
“Yes? What?” I make myself look at his face, my eyes feeling too big and round.
“Are you even listening?” His eyes narrow, becoming slits as he studies me, then blows out a breath. “No, you’re not. You’re soaked through and shivering.”
“It’s raining.”
“Yes, I know.” Of course, he knows, he’s just as wet as I am. “Your dress is—”
But he stops, his eyes bleeding dark and hungry, stuck on me like I’m something to be chased through the storm.
Lights flash through the windows.
I don’t move, my breath held prisoner in my chest. Nervous energy hums through my veins, but with fear or excitement, I can’t tell.
Then…
“There are towels in the tack room.” His hand tightens on the horse’s halter like he doesn’t trust himself, rather than the horse, to let go.
“Go and get dry. I’ll wait.”
Wait for what?
I almost stumble trying to hurry to the tack room. There are big, fluffy towels on a rack. I take one and start drying myself off. My body tingles with every rub of the soft cotton that I almost exhale a moan.
Oh God. I’m in a murder pact to kill this man, and here I am, perving over him every chance I get.
Why the hell did I stay? I should have closed the barn door with me on the other side of it.
I’d be eating breakfast by now, getting dry by the fire.
No. I should have taken the boat when he offered it to me. I could be anywhere but here.
Staying on the island, trapped with this man, is just nuts.
I force out a breath and rub my hair vigorously, trying to erase the bad thoughts from smothering my brain—
“Watch it.” Severin grits out, right behind me.
I gasp in fright, turning, nearly crashing into him.
He seizes me, his large hands easily encircling my waist. Heat crawls up my throat as I stare into his eyes, noting how dark his lashes look when he’s glancing down.
And then I follow his gaze to where my hand is, pressed against his bare chest to steady myself—or maybe to stop myself from collapsing into him.
His skin is warm, hot almost.
His heart thuds against my palm, in time with my own.
And slipped free from his shirt, right next to my hand, is a key on a chain. One shaped like a swan.
A swan key.
I blink at it. Unable to move my hand as longing pools molten at the base of my spine, and I feel so very weak.
It feels like electricity is flowing between us, thick and charged as thunder clashes outside.
Knowing that he’s holding me up, his touch searing through my wet dress, makes it even worse.
It lingers on him…the smell of ozone and rain. And the same scent that wrapped around me on those stairs when his mouth was on mine, his hands doing things that I want to forget but can’t.
Troy doesn’t seem to want to forget, either. His nostrils flare, and he’s staring at my lips. But another drop of water drips from him. It lands on my cheek; we’re that close.
Faintly, somewhere in my mind, Nell hisses, Kiss him. Then get his face ID to open the phone.
And so…
“Comet’s a pretty name.” It just rushes out.
He frowns. “What are you chirping about?”
“The horse. Comet.” The words keep flying out of my mouth before my brain can catch up. It’s my M.O. When in an awkward situation, change the topic.
The muscle in his jaw ticks. “I didn’t name her.”
“Oh. W-Who did?”
His eyes turn to broken glass. His body stiffens, and then…he sets me back, a foot apart from him, his grip tightening on me once, before falling away.
Casually, he leans over and takes a towel from the rack above me. “Close up when you’re finished, Lovett.”
Turning around, he stalks out of the tack room and most likely out of the barn, leaving me to dry off alone—my pulse fluttering against my throat like a dying butterfly the entire time.