This was his version of a goodbye speech.
Thankfully her
mind sharpened against the lull of too much Jack, too much sex and
possibly too much sun, and she kept her mouth shout.
She’d already
asked those questions in various forms, long before they’d crossed
the line from friendship into lovers, and his stubborn answers
never changed and didn’t actually answer anything at all. He wasn’t
afraid. He didn’t do long-term relationships. The world was too big
and exciting and life was too short to cram into one corner of
it.
Pain stabbed
at the edge of her subconscious, but she couldn’t allow it to
pierce. That he’d be gone by morning was a certainty grafted to her
bones and she was determined nothing would ruin these precious few
hours. If she pushed him, he’d back off so quickly, he’d topple
over into that abyss of secret fears and God knew what else and she
didn’t want them to end in that particular manner again.
So no
questions, no probing, not even a casual reference to when she
might see or hear from Jack again. She’d bargained this deal
between her body and her heart and reneging was not an option. She
got Jack this one last time and then she moved on swiftly.
Chapter 8
M egan couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned until her
covers strangled her and then she kicked them off with a burst of
frustrated energy. She tried emptying her head of all thought, but
that just left a blank canvas for a fresh slew of mind games. She
should have stayed; could have spent the night in his arms.
They’d shared
the bottle of wine on the beach and talked for hours, swum in the
frigid ocean and warmed up afterwards with slow, lingering kisses
and entwined limbs. Talked some more and watched the oranges and
pinks bleed into inky blue as the sun met the horizon with
spectacular grace. They’d stopped in town for calamari takeaways
and eaten on the pier while Jack told her all about his upcoming
exhibition at a London gallery, his eyes lit with passion as he
delved into technical aspects she didn’t quite understand. It
didn’t matter. With a breeze cooling the muggy evening, his thigh
brushing hers as their legs dangled off the end of the pier, his
enthusiasm rumbled out on a sexy baritone that washed her senses
with pure pleasure. And then he’d brought her home and taken his
sweet time adoring every inch of her body.
Dragging
herself away from his warmth, her limbs drugged with his lovemaking
and the heaviness of sleep invading her muscles, had felt like the
hardest thing she’d ever had to do.
It wasn’t.
Waking up in
Jack’s bed, watching his eyes shut down as he back-pedalled from
the night before, tripping over his own feet in his haste to
leave…a repeat performance of the last time she’d woken up beside
him would have been much, much worse.
Sleep must
have claimed her eventually, because next thing she was drifting
awake, her head groggy but her senses seeking out the disturbance
that had roused her. She lay perfectly still and held her breath.
Nothing to hear, except the familiar echo of the churning ocean.
She released that breath, was just relaxing into the long descent
back to sleep, when her body jerked and she was instantly wide
awake.
Something
wasn’t right.
She scrambled
out of bed and padded across the room to peek through the drapes.
The view from her window was the sloping meadow and the town
nestled in the crook of the battered limestone headland that
reached deep into the ocean. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the black
of night had lifted and the winding pattern of streetlights far
below was a dim yellow against the creeping dawn.
She let the
drapes fall back into place with a sigh.
The only thing
that was wrong was also the one thing that felt a hundred percent
balanced, whether she liked it or not. Jack was leaving. Assuming
she’d been the unfinished business keeping him here, well, he’d
definitely taken care of that yesterday. Twice over. She rolled her
shoulders
Thankfully her
mind sharpened against the lull of too much Jack, too much sex and
possibly too much sun, and she kept her mouth shout.
She’d already
asked those questions in various forms, long before they’d crossed
the line from friendship into lovers, and his stubborn answers
never changed and didn’t actually answer anything at all. He wasn’t
afraid. He didn’t do long-term relationships. The world was too big
and exciting and life was too short to cram into one corner of
it.
Pain stabbed
at the edge of her subconscious, but she couldn’t allow it to
pierce. That he’d be gone by morning was a certainty grafted to her
bones and she was determined nothing would ruin these precious few
hours. If she pushed him, he’d back off so quickly, he’d topple
over into that abyss of secret fears and God knew what else and she
didn’t want them to end in that particular manner again.
So no
questions, no probing, not even a casual reference to when she
might see or hear from Jack again. She’d bargained this deal
between her body and her heart and reneging was not an option. She
got Jack this one last time and then she moved on swiftly.
Chapter 8
M egan couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned until her
covers strangled her and then she kicked them off with a burst of
frustrated energy. She tried emptying her head of all thought, but
that just left a blank canvas for a fresh slew of mind games. She
should have stayed; could have spent the night in his arms.
They’d shared
the bottle of wine on the beach and talked for hours, swum in the
frigid ocean and warmed up afterwards with slow, lingering kisses
and entwined limbs. Talked some more and watched the oranges and
pinks bleed into inky blue as the sun met the horizon with
spectacular grace. They’d stopped in town for calamari takeaways
and eaten on the pier while Jack told her all about his upcoming
exhibition at a London gallery, his eyes lit with passion as he
delved into technical aspects she didn’t quite understand. It
didn’t matter. With a breeze cooling the muggy evening, his thigh
brushing hers as their legs dangled off the end of the pier, his
enthusiasm rumbled out on a sexy baritone that washed her senses
with pure pleasure. And then he’d brought her home and taken his
sweet time adoring every inch of her body.
Dragging
herself away from his warmth, her limbs drugged with his lovemaking
and the heaviness of sleep invading her muscles, had felt like the
hardest thing she’d ever had to do.
It wasn’t.
Waking up in
Jack’s bed, watching his eyes shut down as he back-pedalled from
the night before, tripping over his own feet in his haste to
leave…a repeat performance of the last time she’d woken up beside
him would have been much, much worse.
Sleep must
have claimed her eventually, because next thing she was drifting
awake, her head groggy but her senses seeking out the disturbance
that had roused her. She lay perfectly still and held her breath.
Nothing to hear, except the familiar echo of the churning ocean.
She released that breath, was just relaxing into the long descent
back to sleep, when her body jerked and she was instantly wide
awake.
Something
wasn’t right.
She scrambled
out of bed and padded across the room to peek through the drapes.
The view from her window was the sloping meadow and the town
nestled in the crook of the battered limestone headland that
reached deep into the ocean. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the black
of night had lifted and the winding pattern of streetlights far
below was a dim yellow against the creeping dawn.
She let the
drapes fall back into place with a sigh.
The only thing
that was wrong was also the one thing that felt a hundred percent
balanced, whether she liked it or not. Jack was leaving. Assuming
she’d been the unfinished business keeping him here, well, he’d
definitely taken care of that yesterday. Twice over. She rolled her
shoulders
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