Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“I didn’t know anyone was awake.” Could have probably said I didn’t know he was awake, since he’s the only other person here, but it felt less of an attack to keep things general.
His gaze returns toward the night outside when he releases a heavy breath. “I was awake earlier when you went to bed. What happened in the bedroom?”
I start for the kitchen to get that glass of water again, not bothering to sneak this time. “It wasn’t what happened,” I say, grabbing a glass from the cabinet, standing where the angle of the kitchen blocks my view of him. “It was . . .” The words collapse in my throat, knowing that everything doesn’t need to be said. “Water?”
“No.”
The sound of leather shifts, making me look up as I turn on the faucet. He stands, the side of his body I can see remaining dark while the moon shines on his front. Cold water floods over the rim of the glass, and I’m quick to turn the faucet off. The weight of the conversation and the expectations that seem to be quietly dancing between us are too much to stay silent.
You’re his nurse, Autumn. Nothing more.
Not his entertainment.
Not his friend.
Not even someone to playfully flirt with.
He turns around, his face now shrouded in darkness when all I want to do is see the light that shines in his eyes when he is amused, and that smile that always tilts more toward a smirk like he has a secret or even naughty thoughts. He has so much revealed in his features that it has become a fun game of discovery, and it’s all hidden from me now.
I don’t like it. “Then what was it? Tell me,” he says in a tone lacking his usual humanity. This confusion is what I’ve caused by crossing lines.
I don’t know any other way out of it other than through honesty. “It’s what could have happened.”
“And if we wanted it to happen?” His voice stays low, matching the night and the pull between us.
“We shouldn’t want it.” For such a true statement, it sure feels like a lie I’m telling myself. “We shouldn’t even be in the position of wanting such things when I’m here to take care of you.”
“I don’t need constant care.” And there it is. The truth shines like a beacon that we were avoiding.
“I know.” My heart thunders in my chest as I admit what I haven’t wanted to, even to myself.
He shifts, stepping into a ray streaking across the floor. It brings his smile into focus, brightening his eyes when he looks at me. “But I like your company, Nurse.” That word endears me to him all over again. I keep thinking I’m strong enough to hold this wall up between us, but it’s too heavy when there’s no belief in it anymore. I let it fall.
Despite my focus being in one place, my heart is already in his hands across the room. There’s no fighting this attraction any longer.
Standing with nothing more than fifteen feet, a chair, and a glass of water between us, I set my water down and gravitate toward him to eliminate the other obstacles. “I like your company as well, Lieutenant.” And when I reach him, I look into those cappuccino eyes, ready to take a sip of whatever he’s offering.
“So what do we do about it?” The tips of his fingers barely brush my hip before he pulls away like he touched fire and got burned.
“I could be fired for acting on impulse.”
“I’m not reporting you.” Flexing his fingers at his side, he grins. “And who said it’s impulse?” He gives in and caresses my face. “I may not remember what happened years ago with you, but I know deep in my soul we have unfinished business between us.”
My throat thickens as tears well in my eyes. I look down, closing them tight. The whiplash of emotion in the past few days leaves me disoriented. Connections don’t work like this. Strings shouldn’t already be strung, tying us together like they have, especially considering our history.
How do I know what reaction to believe or trust when my head is playing tricks on me? “I can’t think with you this close.” I’m overwhelmed by my spinning thoughts and the new memories we made, which stand in stark contrast to the past. A tear squeezes through the barriers of my lids, and I watch it fall like time has slowed until it lands on his bare foot.
Cupping my face, he tilts me up to look in his eyes. His glisten with things that are locked away from his memory. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”
My heart stops, the next breath trapped in my chest. My eyes widen as I slip out of his hands. The answer races to the tip of my tongue, the truth ready to spill out like a can of worms we’ve opened. But those tears weren’t for me. They’re his. The pain that infiltrated his heart and stole the memory of me threatens in a new way. Breaking him.