Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Yes,” he confirms simply.
My eyes narrow on his, his lashes shuddering whatever hides in the depth of his sheltered stare. Kane doesn’t shelter from anything or anyone, most especially me, which is exactly why I repeat myself. “What don’t I know?”
“I’m protecting you.”
“I’m exposed in my ignorance. You know this.”
“I know nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
His eyes fire up with anger. “Is this really where you want to go with me, Lilah?”
My cellphone rings again. I have every intention of ignoring it, but he does not. “Work your case,” he orders softly. “Take the call.” He steps around me, and when I think he will walk to the bar, he doesn’t. He heads up the stairs. Is he serious right now? I glance at the caller ID and find my father, of all people, calling. I decline and follow Kane.
By the time I’m at the bottom of the stairs, my phone is ringing again, this time with Andrew’s number. Kane disappears at the top of the stairs. I decline the call, shove the phone in my pocket, and start walking again. I enter the bedroom to find Kane nowhere in sight. That leaves Purgatory, my work area, or the bathroom. I walk toward Purgatory, which is where I solve crimes and we tend to solve problems, only to halt when a blast of water from the bathroom tells me Kane is about to shower.
Okay, so this married thing is different. Before we fought and one of us left. Now he gets in the damn shower. Naked. He knows that shifts the story, and how it’s told. He knows. Then again, maybe this isn’t all that different. Kane always tried to solve things by getting me to his bedroom or naked. Or both. Nothing has changed about how we navigate disagreements.
My plan is the same. I won’t get naked with him. That’s always been how I handled him wanting me to get naked and ignore things. With this in mind, I walk into the bathroom. Kane is already in the shower and I charge right up to the door and open it. Kane’s standing with his back to me, one hand on the wall, water thundering down on his head.
“Kane,” I ignore his naked state, as well as any woman ignores a man as fit and perfect as Kane with or without clothes.
He turns to face me, stares at me, but says nothing.
“We’re married,” I say. “You can’t shut me out anymore, Kane.”
To my shock, though I don’t know why I’m shocked at all, Kane grabs me and pulls me into the shower, clothes and all.
“We are married, Lilah.” He folds me to him. “And I’m not letting anything happen to you. And don’t fucking tell me you can take care of yourself. You bleed just like everyone else.”
The anger in his voice radiates through me, bone-deep in its intensity, but he’s not angry with me. Whatever is going on is bad, and he’s not ready to talk about it. He has to talk about it, but not now. Not right this second, when whatever this is scratches at his nerve endings, leaving them raw and bleeding. I know what that feels like, God I know.
“I bleed,” I agree. “I can die. But I’ll take someone with me.”
“I wouldn’t be that lucky, Lilah. I wouldn’t end up gone when you were gone, and I can’t deal with that.” He strokes my hair from my face and tilts my gaze to his. “Do you hear me? I can’t deal with that.”
My fingers curl on his chest. “You just don’t want me to haunt you from the grave because you know I’d be really good at it.”
His mouth slants over mine and it doesn’t take long for him to start tugging at my clothes or for me to end up against the wall with him inside me. The two of us are hard people on our own, and somehow gentler together, but not when we’re like this. There is nothing gentle about me and Kane in the throes of passion, trying to beat down our demons. When it’s over, when we all but collapse on the shower floor, Kane is the one who grabs me a towel and wraps it around me, then does the same of himself.
I’m still in the shower when my phone starts ringing in my wet pants. “Who’s blowing up your phone?”
“Mostly Andrew. And my father.” I snag my phone to find Andrew calling again. “Andrew again. I had coffee with him. And I need to talk to you about him and other things. The other things are first. What the hell is going on, Kane?”
His jaw flexes, his eyes darkening. “I’m going to have to go out. Let’s get dressed.”
I don’t have to ask where he’s going to know it’s nowhere good. Nor do I have to ask if I’m invited. I’m not, but I look at invitations the way I do most people. Not always necessary.