Chapter Eleven
Audrey had never been very good at falling asleep when she needed to, when she knew she had to be up early the next day. It was as though her subconscious, knowing how badly she needed the rest, was perversely determined to deny it to her. So it was no surprise that on this night, possibly the last night she would ever sleep again, sleep proved as elusive as ever.
She stared into the darkness overhead, having long since given up even trying to drift off. Jason hadn’t had to remind her of the risks. She knew all too well how dangerous the plan was. She’d thought coming to Barrett’s Mill had been entering enemy territory. That was nothing compared to this. They were delivering themselves right into the hands of the man who wanted them dead, with no guarantee they would walk back out.
If they did, their problems would be solved.
If they didn’t…
Well, then they wouldn’t have any problems anymore, either, would they?
She tried to push the thought away, but it was impossible, her stomach twisting in knots. Jason might not care about whether he lived or died—and despite the breakthrough they’d shared that evening, she wasn’t sure if anything had changed on that front—but she knew without a doubt she wasn’t ready to die.
There were so many things she still wanted to do, places she wanted to see, experiences she’d always dreamed of and had yet to have. She’d never been to Paris. She’d never climbed a mountain. Never had a family. Children. Someone she loved, someone who loved her. Was it really only a week ago that she imagined what it might be like after seeing how happy Jackie was—
Jackie’s wedding,
she suddenly remembered with a pang. She’d missed it.
She had no trouble picturing Jackie and Brian, her fiancé, as they must have looked. First standing at the altar, gazing into each other’s eyes, Jackie probably crying, a few tears sliding down her cheeks even as she was smiling with pure joy. And then, after the minister declared them man and wife and they turned toward the assembled guests hand-in-hand, walking back down the aisle with matching smiles on their faces.
Someday,
she thought wistfully, swallowing hard. She’d always thought it would happen for her someday.
It never had. She’d had relationships over the years of course, but nothing that had lasted very long, nothing that she’d truly minded ending. She knew she wasn’t very good at getting close to and opening up to people, perhaps because she’d been used to being alone for so long. But even more than that, she’d never met anyone she really wanted to completely open up to. Never met anyone who felt
right.
Until Jason.
The thought came out of nowhere, popping into her head without warning.
Her immediate impulse was to deny it. It would certainly be easier if she could.
But she couldn’t.
It didn’t matter how short a time she’d known him. It felt like so much longer. The way she responded to him was unlike anything she’d felt toward anyone before, that connection she’d never felt with another person and had started to think might not actually exist.
He was everything Hal had made him out to be and more. Smart and sharp and, yes, incredibly good-looking, but also decent and principled. He could have let her walk away that first day, could have let her die, but he hadn’t, even when he hadn’t wanted to get involved, even though she was a stranger. He really was that elusive thing Richard Bridges only pretended to be—an honorable man. The unexpected kindness he’d shown her last night told her he had a good heart, and of course she knew he was capable of great love. She still remembered the love in his eyes when he’d spoken about his wife and children. She wondered, just for a moment, what it would be like to have him look at her like that.
A foolish thought of course, because that wasn’t going to happen. Despite his breakthrough earlier tonight, she doubted he was suddenly going to decide to move on with his life, even if they had all the time in the world.
Her lips twisted in a humorless smile. She’d finally met someone who might actually be the one, but it was too late, and the man wasn’t really available.
And now she might never have another chance, never know what that kind of love was like.
“What’s wrong?”
His voice floated out of the darkness, startling her. As he had the night before, he’d given up the bed to her and was stretched out on the floor beside it. She lay stock-still, wondering why he’d asked.
Then she felt a tear slip down her cheek, and realized she must have sniffled without knowing it.
Mortified, she swallowed to clear any sogginess in her throat and spoke as calmly as possible. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Hearing the words, even she didn’t believe them. She knew before she heard him do it that he was pushing himself up from the floor. She swiped at her cheeks just before he flipped on the bedside light.
“No, you’re not,” he said quietly. She forced herself to meet his eyes. He sat on the floor, leaning against the bedside table, looking over at her.
Before she could say anything, he continued, “Is this about tomorrow? You really don’t have to go.”
She shook her head. “Forget it. We’ve been over this. I’m going.” She waved a hand. “It’s not about that anyway.”
He rose to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. “Then what is it?” he said gently.
It was too awkward to be lying there with him looking down at her. Sitting up herself, she sighed. “Nothing really. Trust me, it’s nothing you want to hear about.”
“You listened to me talk this evening. The least I can do is return the favor.”
Lowering her head, she smiled sadly. “I was just thinking about all the things I’d never done that I wish I had, and how I might never get the chance now.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he said fiercely, leaning closer to look into her face. “I’m not going to let it.”
She met his eyes, saw the determination in them, and knew he meant every word. It was a nice promise, one she knew better than to take to heart. Neither of them knew what was going to happen tomorrow. They could be caught and killed before they ever had a chance to speak with Bridges. They might not be able to convince him and he’d have them killed anyway. They might not have any more time beyond the moment when they entered that house, if they even got that far. All they had was tonight.
A surge of adrenaline rushed through her at the thought.
Time hadn’t completely run out yet. They had tonight. These few precious hours to make the most of…
And in an instant, staring into his face, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest, she knew without a doubt that she didn’t want to waste them.
Only then did it hit her just how close they were sitting. The warmth she was feeling against her skin was the heat of his body mere centimeters away. All she had to do was shift her thigh slightly and their bodies would be in contact, all she had to do was reach out her hand to touch him.
She saw the moment he realized it, too, his eyes flaring slightly. Saw the flash of awareness, and was reassuringly reminded she wasn’t the only one who felt the attraction between them. In a heartbeat, the air between them thickened, the tension palpable, the sensation racing along her nerve endings and making her skin tingle.
Her gaze stroked over his face, taking in every perfect inch, finally arriving at his mouth.
He started to pull away, those tantalizing lips nearly vanishing from view as he ducked his head. He cleared his throat, his discomfort clear. “We should get some sleep,” he said, his voice rough.
She threw her hand out without thinking, and caught his arm before he could rise from the bed. The feeling of his warm skin, of the muscles beneath immediately tensing and reacting to her touch, sent a jolt of heat through her. He didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze resolutely averted, but she could tell from the pulse beating beneath her fingers that he felt it just as much as she did.
“I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight,” she said quietly. “I don’t think you are either.”
He sucked in a ragged breath. “This isn’t a good idea,” he said, the acknowledgment of what was on the verge of happening sending a thrill up her spine.
“I don’t care if it’s a good idea. Because I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, and I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
He didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything, for the longest moment. She reached up and placed her free hand on his right cheek, not willing to let go of this moment, of this chance, of him, so easily. He closed his eyes briefly at her touch, then opened them as she turned his face to hers.
“This is it, Jason,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t have any more time to decide. We could die tomorrow. Whether we live or die could be completely out of our hands. So you have to decide right now how you want to spend the next several hours of your life, because they’re all you’re guaranteed to have left. Do you want to spend them lying there doing nothing, or do you want to spend them living?”
She stared into his eyes and waited, breathless, having no idea how he would respond, what his choice would be. Hoping against hope that he wouldn’t deny what was between them. That he would grant her this moment, what she wanted—
needed
—more than anything.
Finally, just when she was beginning to think it would never happen, when frustration and disappointment and sadness were starting to rise within her, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers.
There was no trace of hesitation in his kiss. The first brush of his lips against hers was almost immediately followed by another, then another, then more still. He took her mouth hungrily, eagerly, deepening the experience with each subsequent caress of his lips against hers. Her breathing instantly quickened, her heart pounded harder and harder as she struggled to match him stroke for stroke, tried to absorb each moment, each sensation, even as she desperately wanted more.
In the very back of her mind, she registered something brushing against her cheek. Almost as soon as it did, it was gone. Seconds later he tore his lips from hers. Her eyelids fluttered open in time for her to see him starting to pull away.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his breathing as fast and shallow as hers. He bent his head, his shoulders heaving. Dazed, not understanding, she followed his gaze to where he was looking.
His hands were in his lap, clenched tightly into fists. In the dim light from the single lamp, she could see he wasn’t wearing his gloves.
That was what she’d felt, she realized. He’d placed his hand on her cheek, then immediately withdrawn it when he realized what he’d done, when his scarred palm and fingers had made contact with her skin.
It was the first time she’d felt his bare hands against her skin. The brief contact hadn’t lasted long enough for her to notice anything different. She’d barely felt it at all. But she knew without a doubt that she wanted to. She wanted to feel those hands all over her body. The scars didn’t matter.
Reaching forward, she took his right hand in both of hers and slowly peeled his fingers open. His startled gaze flew to hers. Smiling softly, she brought his hand to her face, pressing his scarred palm to the curve of her cheek as she stared deep into his eyes. His skin wasn’t as rough as she might have thought and he seemed to believe. It didn’t matter anyway. All she felt was a hand, Jason’s hand. Jason’s fingers. Jason’s skin. This was how he felt. Nothing had ever felt better, because this was him.
She watched as his gaze softened, the uncertainty melting into tenderness. That look in his eyes sent her pulse spiking again. He slowly stroked the pad of his thumb over her skin, the touch achingly gentle. Then he leaned forward and kissed her again.
The kiss was different this time. Slower. Deeper. The same hunger was there, the same eagerness, but each caress lasted longer, as though he wanted to savor every last bit of it, every last bit of her. She responded in kind, relishing every moment. Their tongues met, tangled, sliding against one another in a deliciously erotic dance. She couldn’t get enough of it, the taste of him, the feeling of their mouths, their lips, moving together.
And yet it wasn’t enough. She smoothed her hands down his chest, felt the muscles and warm flesh beneath the T-shirt and immediately wanted to feel him. Her fingers reflexively moved lower. Catching the bottom of his shirt, she started to work it up over his belly. Almost simultaneously, he reached for hers, tugging it higher. A laugh bubbled up from her throat, even as she felt his body rumble with one of his own.
Breaking apart, they shed their clothes together, helping each other out of each obstructive garment, watching each other as every new bit of bare skin was revealed. She felt his unwavering attention on her body, the heat of his gaze washing over her, her breasts, her belly. She reveled in the sensation, her arousal growing both under the force of his unyielding focus and what she saw herself.
She never took her eyes off him. She couldn’t. His body was as beautiful as she’d known it would be. He was long and lean, his chest firm, his belly flat and tight. Her gaze followed the faint trail of hair over his nipples, down over his abdomen, then lower. She instinctively reached for the waistband of his shorts. He was a step ahead, shoving out of them, removing his underwear with them, if he’d been wearing any at all. It hardly mattered. All that did was that he was finally bare, the full proof of his arousal there before her. She reached out and took him in her hand, felt the hot, hard length of him pulsing, straining, against her fingers.
With a low growl, he pulled her hand away, then lifted her gently and lowered her onto the mattress, stretching out beside her. Their mouths found each other, their hands eagerly exploring each other’s bodies. She trailed her fingers over the broad line of his shoulders, his chest, the muscles of his arms, even as she reveled in the feeling of his hands on her breasts, her side, between her legs… A gasp caught in her throat as his fingers slid into the thatch of hair there, unerringly finding her folds. One probing finger teased her, tested her, no doubt discovering just how wet and ready she was.