He stirred and kissed her neck with a short grunt of negation. “I'm never sleeping again.”
She twisted around. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
He pulled out of her and threw back the blanket, reaching for his jeans. “Come on. I'll show you.”
She wrapped a blanket around herself and followed him through the dim corridor. He opened a door, yanked a chain to turn on the light and gestured her in, closing the door after her.
The room was so huge the bathroom fixtures looked lost in it. She took care of her business and eyed the ancient, mineral-stained clawfoot tub. It occurred to her how badly she was in need of a wash.
She peeked out the door. “I want a bath “ she told him.
“Go for it.” He headed back toward the bedroom.
She set the water running. The door opened and Seth entered with the electric heater in his arms. He plugged it in and set it on high, crossed his arms and waited. He was so beautiful, in only his jeans. He dazzled her. Even his long brown feet were graceful and beautiful.
“Would you give me a little privacy?” she asked tentatively.
“No.”
He returned her stare, patient and implacable. Water roared into the tub and steam rose up in seductive plumes. Raine gave into the inevitable with a sigh, and let the blanket slide off her shoulders. Seth caught it and hung it on a hook above the heater.
She knotted her hair up onto her head. It needed washing too, but she couldn't face having it wet again. She stepped into the water, wincing as it stung her abused feet. She sank into it, closed her eyes and floated, letting the roar of the faucet fill her ears.
Seth turned the water off when it reached her chin, and she opened her eyes. He sat cross-legged by the tub, gazing at her with unnerving intensity. He took the soap out of the dish and fished out her foot, lathering it. He paid attention to every toe, every bruise and scratch, stroking and petting and massaging her. He lowered the foot into the water, seized the other foot and gave it the same loving treatment. There was no sound in the room but the hollow slosh and drip of water as he caressed her.
Her heart ached with love for him. “I didn't sell you out,” she said quietly. “Someday you'll know I'm telling the truth.”
He lifted her leg out of the water and ran the soap along the length of her calf. “Oh yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, her voice belligerent. “You're going to feel like a total shit for not trusting me. And I'm going to enjoy every minute of it.”
A smile touched his solemn mouth. “Terrifying prospect”
“We'll see how much you like it when it happens,” she warned. “You already know the truth, if you'd just let yourself believe it.”
He caressed her knee. “Truth is a relative thing,” he commented.
“Oh, stop it,” she snapped. “Now you sound like Victor.”
His soapy fingers tightened and lost their grip. Her leg splashed back down into the tub. He wiped the splashed soapsuds off his face with his arm. “Don't compare me to him. The way things are going, I doubt I'll live long enough to find out.”
She jerked up as if she had been bitten. “Don't say that!”
The water sloshed perilously close to the lip of the tub. He was retreating from her. His remote voice made her think of the dream. Her father on the boat, his eyes sunken and shadowy, drifting farther and farther away. “Please don't say that,” she repeated, fighting tears.
“Try not to sweat it,” he said quietly. “The angel of death in a black ski mask can jump out of the dark anytime. All you can do is look sharp and seize the moment. Like the moment I'm seizing right now.”
He pushed her back down against the curved back of the tub. Raine bit her shaking lip and leaned back, abandoning herself to the love she felt in his big hands. He was right. If this was all there was, then she'd better seize every moment of tenderness she could from him.
She let go and yielded to his tender skill; letting his clever fingers untie every knot, undo her, unravel her. He laved every curve, smoothing her like a potter molding clay. He pulled her up onto her knees so he could wash between her legs, and she held on tight to his muscular shoulders so that she didn't shimmer and melt down into the water. His slick, soapy fingers delved into every crevice and fold, making bold use of his intimate knowledge of her. She braced herself against him, shaking with the intensity of her feelings.
Seth pushed her back down into the water, rinsing the suds away. The water, full of soap, had turned as opaque as milk. He reached between her legs, locking eyes with her, and slid his hand beneath her bottom, pulling her to the surface of the water until he could see the flower of her sex, pink and swollen. He touched her as only he could, a magical sensitivity that always knew exactly when to push, when to retreat, when to insist. He pushed and coaxed and caressed until the power tore through her, unleashed Huge and terrifying and beautiful. A blaze of love and longing that blotted out fear.
She drifted in the cooling water, feeling newly born.
All too soon, he was pulling her to her feet. He toweled her off, pulled the blanket off the hook over the heater and wrapped her in it. It was deliciously warm. He scooped her into his arms, and she relaxed against him like a sleepy baby, boneless. No protests or arguments.
He laid her down on the futon and shoved off his waterlogged jeans. He crouched over her, covering her with his naked, scalding heat. “OK. It's make-believe time,” he said. 'This is the part in the story where you show me how much you love me.”
She reached for him. “Seth—”
“Please don't. The less you say, the more believable it will be.”
She stared up into his fierce dark eyes. This was as far as he could come towards her. They were so far outside the bounds of the normal, ordinary world that she no longer took anything for granted. A million impossible things might be true, another million solid truths might be sheer illusion. But one thing was for sure. She loved him. He had saved her life. He was beautiful, and brave and valiant. He had told her that he loved her tonight, and he had meant it with all his heart No one else in her whole life had ever done so much.
What was true would stay true, whether he let himself believe it or not. And if he wouldn't let her use words to tell him so, then she would use the only language left to her.
She held out her arms. She would make him understand.
The window was black when the low knock sounded on the door.
Seth lifted his head as if he'd never slept at all. “Yes?” “Showtime,” someone said quietly.
I'll be right down.” He flipped on the light and pulled on his clothes in grim silence.
Raine sat up, trying to think of something to say. Seth ignored her, yanking on the shirt. The bandage had seeped blood in the night. He gave it a brief, barely interested glance and buttoned the shirt over it without comment.
Panic uncoiled inside her. “You're following that gun, aren't you? The Corazon?”
He didn't answer.
Images blazed through her mind. Crimson spattered on white, the blood on Seth's bandage. His red shirt. Tulips on the floor. The curse of the Corazon. The words flew out of her, with all the urgency of terror.
“OK, you win, Seth. I admit it. I told Victor everything. Don't go. It's a trap.”
He smiled as he dropped to his knees by the futon, but his eyes were somber. “You are a piece of work, sweetheart. I never know which way you'll jump.”
“Seth, I—”
He cut off her words with a swift, hard kiss. “Be good.”
He grabbed the padlock, and shot her a quick grin; crooked and oddly sweet. The door closed, the lock rattled and clicked.
She heard his light footsteps, going down the stairs, and a faint, faraway murmur of male voices. It was always the same; the panic, the frustration. The boat, floating away, and herself too small and helpless to intervene. The headlights danced across the trees as the car drove away. She buried her face in her hands and wept.
After a long time, she slid back into an uneasy doze. Images melted and reformed in her mind, finally coalescing into the rippling expanse of water that stretched out from Stone Island.
