Chapter Eighteen
The room illuminated with a bright flash, and Abigail flinched as the walls shuddered with immediate thunder.
Wind howled, rattling the shutters and tugging at the edges of the curtains before creeping beneath her sheets.
She’d stripped down to her chemise, her once again wet dress hanging to dry.
With a shiver, she rolled over, her gaze searching the darkness for Mr. Moreau while her pulse beat a wild tempo.
Another bolt of lightning sent the room into brief focus. He leaned against the door with eyes closed, a blanket draped across his lap, the image there and gone in an instant.
“Mr. Moreau?” Her whisper faltered, swallowed by a crash of thunder.
“Hmm?” The sound slipped from the shadows, laced with weariness.
She sat up, tugging the sheet around her. “I can’t sleep.”
“I can tell.” His voice came low and calm, but held an edge.
She swallowed as the wind screamed louder. “Do you think they are alright on the Siren?”
He didn’t answer at once. The room lit again, and for a heartbeat, she saw him clearly. He sat still as stone, head angled forward, the brief white glow casting him in a realm just beyond her touch. Then, darkness folded over him, leaving only the echo of his presence.
“They’ll be fine,” he said at last, his calm assurance a fragile tether amid the chaos.
Abigail shifted beneath the sheet, trying to convince herself she was only cold, only restless.
Yet each time lightning flashed, she caught a glimpse of him—the curve of his jaw, the tense line of his shoulders, the way the blanket fell across him—and her chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the storm.
“Are you—” she started, then stopped.
“I can’t sleep either,” he said quietly, as if reading her thoughts, his voice low enough to make her pulse jump.
“It doesn’t seem right for you to sleep on the floor.” She winced as something heavy banged into the shutters.
“Trust me, I’ve slept in worse places.”
She frowned at his nonchalance. “Surely, it’s uncomfortable?”
His voice dropped, softer, but deliberate. “And yet here I am.” The way he said it made her stomach coil.
“You shouldn’t—” Her voice faltered. “After all you’ve done, it seems wrong.”
A heartbeat of silence fell over the room.
“What are you suggesting?”
She swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he seemed despite the distance between them “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, her words barely above a whisper.
“Careful, Miss Ross. That sounds dangerously close to an invitation.”
“It’s… the bed is plenty big enough to share.”
He laughed softly, the sound low and amused. “I can’t.”
She bristled, heat rising in her cheeks despite the cool air. “Why not?”
“Because if I did…” His voice roughened. “I’d touch you. In ways you’d never forget.”
Her breath hitched. The honesty of it, the calm certainty, made her stomach twist and pulse all at once. “What if I—”
He cut her off by standing, the blanket falling to the floor with a muted thud as he stepped closer. The distance between them shrank with each soft footfall, and the faint scent of rain and him filled the space.
“I dare you,” he said, voice low and challenging, “to invite me in.”
Her heart thundered. Of course she would never be so reckless as to do such a thing. Not after his bold statement. Never. The very thought was unthinkable—improper, scandalous, utterly foolish.
And yet, her breath refused to steady. The storm raged outside, battering the roof, and she could swear it echoed the wild pulse in her veins. He stood over her, waiting, and the air seemed to hum between them.
She lifted her chin, meaning to tell him to go back to the floor, but the words tangled somewhere in her throat. “You’re insufferable.”
“Then send me away.”
Her fingers tightened on the sheet. She should. She didn’t. Instead, she laid on her back, staring into the shadows above.
The wind rose in a long, mournful howl, the sound slipping through the cracks.
A heartbeat later, the walls shuddered, and the roof gave a low, creaking groan.
She froze. For one suspended moment, she could almost imagine the whole world giving way—the inn splintering, the sea rising to swallow it whole.
What if this was it? What if she died here, in this wild, forsaken place, before she’d ever really lived?
Before she’d known passion?
The thought struck her breathless. Every nerve, every heartbeat felt unbearably alive and separate from her.
She turned back to him, to the storm reflected in his eyes, and realized she’d never been more aware of another person in her life.
Something inside her broke loose. All the rules, the careful restraint, the fear—they seemed so small against the enormity of the storm, of the moment itself.
She drew a trembling breath. “Join me.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Restraint laced his quiet words.
“Yes.” Somehow, her whisper remained steady. “I do.”
He exhaled, slow and deliberate, as she rolled to the far side of the mattress.
The seconds passed, each one stretched taut with tension, before the bed shifted beneath his weight, a subtle give that made her stomach tighten.
She went still, heart hammering in her chest. And then, slowly, carefully, he lowered himself beside her.
The warmth of his body brushed hers, the faint scrape of fabric against her bare arm sending a shiver down her spine.
Her breath caught, and she clutched the sheet tighter, but she didn’t pull away.
He didn’t move closer, didn’t reach for her, yet his nearness was enough to set her nerves alight.
Every beat of her pulse seemed magnified in the hush between the gales of wind outside.
She held her breath, waiting in suspended silence. A flash of lightning lit the room, bringing him into focus. He lay on his back next to her, staring at the ceiling, jaw clenched.
“Mr. Moreau?” Her whisper broke through the darkness.
He didn’t answer, but his breath hitched.
Another bright flare lit the room for the space of a wild heartbeat, and she gasped.
He’d turned, his dark eyes fixed on hers.
Something raw flickered there before the light died.
Her throat went dry, and she slipped a trembling hand from beneath the sheet and reached out.
Rough stubble met her palm, a graze of warmth and danger that sent a rush of unfamiliar heat through her.
The touch broke the spell holding him in place.
He shifted, and a trail of heat flared along her side as his hand slid there, coming to rest at her hip.
She stayed frozen, caught between want and disbelief.
A moment later, a soft puff of breath caressed her cheek, teasing and intimate all at once.
She sucked in another gasp as his lips grazed her jaw, a promise and a warning both.
He moved excruciatingly slowly, the featherlight touch sending a shiver along her spine.
She couldn’t move as he dragged a searing line to her mouth.
The gentle press of his lips against hers unraveled every thought in her head, leaving only a raw awareness of him.
He groaned, the pressure at her hip tightening, his fingers bunching the thin fabric of her chemise.
The kiss deepened, his mouth claiming hers with a hunger that left her trembling.
Her hand slipped behind his head, tangling in his hair to anchor him to her.
His lips left hers for a heartbeat, grazing a teasing path along her neck.
The faint scrape of his unshaven jaw against her skin sent a fresh wave of heat racing through her, and her head fell back as his teeth closed over her earlobe, the sudden rush of feeling leaving her dizzy.
She needed him closer, needed the unnamed promise simmering between them to break open.
But how?
The weight of his palm at her hip lingered, unmoving, as though caught in the same impossible tension that held her captive.
An ache began to build inches from his touch and without thinking, she tilted into him.
With a growl, his hand shifted, long fingers fanning out to grasp her inner thigh.
A startled sound escaped from her, the boldness of his touch unraveling her.
His grip tightened, dragging her closer in a single, possessive pull.
Heat flooded her, fierce and immediate as his thumb swept inward, dangerously close to where she ached.
The careful restraint of moments before was gone, replaced by an escalating urgency, each hungry stroke carrying them closer to something she both feared and yearned to surrender to.
A groan rumbled into her ear as he hooked one leg around hers and pulled her into a hot embrace, his hands suddenly everywhere at once.
They traveled up to her side, to her lower back, over her hip and belly.
Higher, until he cupped a breast through the muslin.
She caught her breath as he kneaded, his thumb flicking over her nipple.
Too soon, the intoxicating touch vanished and his fingers trailed up to her shoulder, fumbling with the ties of her chemise.
Moments later, they fell free, the night air caressing her bare shoulder.
“Mmm…” His muffled groan vibrated against her skin as he slowly kissed his way down her neck.
He paused at her collarbone, his tongue tracing along the hollow of her throat as he worked on the knot at her other shoulder.
When fabric shifted, slipping open to nearly expose her, she couldn’t help her gasp, her chest rising toward him.
He gave an approving chuckle, and his lips continued their slow path downward until he reached her sagging neckline.
A rush of hot breath blazed at the swell of her breast, then his teeth snagged the fabric, tugging it down.