Vanish

assurance that we’re still on target with our plan.

A part of me longs to give him the assurance he wants. It would be so easy. We’re here. Together. I’m already free of the pride. Free…

But am I? Am I really?

I know the answer in my bones, deep in my gut. Even if it doesn’t match up with what my heart feels. Except the way he stares at me just now… I can’t say the words.

“I–I’m going to take a shower,” I say hastily. “And then go back to bed. I–I’m still tired.” Not a lie. I feel like I could sleep another ten hours.

For a second I think he’s going to push, demand we have this conversation now. And I can’t. Not now. I can’t tell him there’s no way I can run away with him.

How can I be with him? How can I ever feel free if I subject Mom and Tamra to the torment all over again? Just like with Dad. The wondering, the never knowing for sure. The waiting, enduring the passing of days until you finally have to admit that he’s gone and never coming back. I can’t do that to them again. And there’s Miram. I have a responsibility to her family, too.

After a moment, he says, “I have some clothes you can wear. Another shirt. Some sweats, too.”

I nod, relieved that he’s going to let the subject drop. For now.

He stands and I watch as he riffles through his duffel bag and comes out with the clothing. I take the bundle, both thankful and regretful when our hands don’t touch this time.

Moving out from his shadow, I step into the light of the bathroom, closing the door on him with a soft click.

Chapter 20

After a shower, I curl up on the bed, lifting my hair from where it’s trapped beneath me and dropping it over my shoulder. For a long time, I hold myself still, silent beneath the sheets as I do my best to ignore Will next to me. I wait for sleep, for the moment when my dizzy, frantic thoughts can slide into rest.

Despite having slept so much already, I’m still tired. My beaten body should be able to fall back asleep. It should.

“How long are you going to pretend to be asleep?”

And there’s why it can’t.

His hushed voice brushes the back of my neck and my flesh puckers to gooseflesh.

He’s why I can’t sleep. I’ve been doing my best to block him out. Impossible, of course. How am I supposed to ignore that Will is inches away? Will, who I’ve longed for since the moment he spared my life months ago in that cave… before I even understood that it was longing I felt.

I open my mouth, but then realize speaking only confirms that I’m awake. I seal my lips shut. Because I can’t speak. Not when I can’t say what he wants to hear.

What even I wish I could say.

His hand closes on my shoulder, and a sigh escapes me. So much for faking sleep.

I don’t resist as he rolls me over. We sink toward the center of the bed, practically chest to chest. His eyes glow in the dark. His hand moves, lifts.

My breath locks in my lungs as he slides his hand through the snarls of my damp hair, holding me, his face so close that our noses brush. The scent of the motel’s complimentary raspberry shampoo swirls around us.

Staring at each other, we don’t speak. I taste his breath then, his lips so near my own. When his eyes dip toward my mouth my stomach twists. Familiar heat swamps me. I bite my lip to keep any sound escaping.

And then I can only think that this is Will.

Will who I’ve wished for and thought lost to me. Will who I’ve dreamed of. Will who has saved me time and again, who I saved at great risk. Who loves me when there is every reason he shouldn’t. Who I love despite all the reasons I shouldn’t.

Will who I have to leave. Again.

I lift my hands to his chest. Flattening my palms, I try not to caress him, try to find the strength to push him away. It’s going to be hard enough saying good-bye tomorrow.

But then he kisses me, and I know I can’t pull away.

His hand at the back of my head slides to my face, his warm palm a rasp on my cheek as he swallows up my moan.

The kiss still feels new. Like the first time. The brush of his mouth sends ripples of sensation along every nerve. I clutch his shoulders, clinging, fingers curling into the lean muscles of his body. I hold on for dear life, the mere texture and taste of his mouth completely devastating me.

My body burns, skin pulling and rippling, overcome, ready to fade out.

Maybe it’s where we are, the circumstances of what has brought us here… or the fact that I may never see him again, but I can’t get enough of him. My mouth moves over his, nibbling, sucking.

His hands roam down my back, tugging me closer.

I move in, wind my arms around his neck. Tangling fingers through his hair, I deepen the kiss, not even minding when his full weight rolls hard over me, sinking me deeper into the mattress.

My body cradles his, instinctively welcoming him. I breathe a greedy sound, not even thinking that we might be moving too far, too fast. There’s only need. Hunger. I’m tired of being denied.

He grips my head in both hands, kissing me thoroughly, biting at my lips in little nips. His fingers press into the tender flesh of my cheeks, holding my face still for him.

Growling, I struggle to move my head, to taste him as he tastes me, but he holds me, traps me… a delicious torment that makes me writhe beneath him.

It isn’t enough. Not even close.

Fire froths at my core, and I struggle to rein it in, to cool my lungs.

I whimper when he glides a hand beneath my shirt, caressing my back in sweeping strokes. He lifts his lips from mine to say, “Your skin… so… hot.”

I gasp sharply against our fused mouths as his hand drifts, brushes my ribs, the quivering skin of my stomach.

I tear my lips free and arch my face away from him to release a steaming breath that I can’t hold in any longer.

He drags an icy kiss down my curved throat, his tongue tracing the tendon there… only escalating the smolder within me.

His mouth lifts from my neck. Cool air caresses the wet flesh. I gulp the chilly air, desperate to douse the inferno building in me.

I feel his stare. Look up and plunge directly into it.

Even in the room’s gloom, his eyes gleam. He stares down at me with such raw intensity that I lift a trembling hand to trace the shadowed outline of his face, caress the hard-etched lines and masculine angles with my fingertips. I brush the dark eyebrows above those eyes that see right through me.

My fingers drift, relax on his mouth, slightly swollen from kissing. His lips move beneath my touch. “Come with me, Jacinda.” The words rumble through my fingers, up my arm, rooting into my heart. And I go cold.

Because he knows. He knows what’s going on in my head. When I escaped into the bathroom tonight, he heard what I wasn’t saying, the words I didn’t want to speak aloud.

I can’t go with him. I can’t run away and be with him in this perfect fantasy we’ve created in our minds.

“I can’t,” I whisper. Then louder, “I can’t.”

I push his shoulder until he rolls off me. Even in the dim room, I can see the change in his expression. He looks angry, his expression like granite.

“How can you go back there?”

“I can’t not go back. They have to know about Miram… and I can’t leave Mom and Tamra wondering what happened to me.”

“We can send a letter,” he growls.