Page 84 of Risky Obsession
The room was dominated by a grand, four-poster bed, with its plush mattress adorned with fancy linens and an abundance of throw pillows.
As Tory drifted to the bed, the concierge showed me around the room pointing out features . . . the crackling fire that someone must have started while we were contained at reception, the generously stocked bar that was at our full disposal, the ornately tiled bathroom with the massive spa baththat I pictured Tory and me getting naked in together. My cock liked that thought.
I followed the concierge back to the main room, and he tugged open the heavy velvet curtains to reveal the villa’s pristine gardens. Tory sat on the bed, running her fingers over the covers like she was patting a kitten.
Leaving her to her trance, I followed the concierge back to the entrance and paid him a tip. He left, closing the door behind him.
I strolled back toward Tory. “What do you think?”
She turned, taking in the rest of the suite. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”
I smiled. “Only the best for my treasure-hunting partner.”
She released a small huff. “Is this your way of sharing a bed with me again?”
“Well, we could sleep in the car again if you prefer?”
She strolled toward the windows. “Wow. So beautiful.”
Just like you.
She swept her gaze to me. “You need to be careful.”
Shit. Did I say that aloud?
“I could get used to this.” A glorious smile swept across her lips.
“Well, I’m happy to sleep on the sofa if you like. It looks comfy enough.”
She gave me a look like I was a fucking idiot, then nodded at the bed. “That’s the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. There’s enough room for both of us.”
“No touchy though, right?” I chuckled.
She returned to the bed, but she held herself stiff, with her knees together.
A tightness gripped my chest, and I was torn between striding to the bar to fix myself a shot of whisky and walking out the door. Anything to escape the palpable tension. I traded places with her spot in the window, hoping that she would tell me what the fuck I’d done wrong now.
“Thank you for sharing your story about Indiana with me.”
I bit back a sarcastic remark about wishing it was just a story. Outside the window stood a massive tree where a couple of small birds were dive-bombing a larger one in a frantic aerial display.
“You know what, Tory? People find it easier to latch ontothe worst in someone rather than see the good that’s right in front of them. Mud sticks for a fucking long time. I just wish I knew how to wash it away.”
“Being truthful helps.” Her voice was tinged with sorrow.
“Does it?” The words came out harsher than I intended, and Tory flinched as if I’d struck her.
What the hell?
I let out a weary sigh. “If that stupid mistake makes it hard for you to trust me, Tory, then believe me, I get it. I’m not proud of what I did.”
I forced myself to keep going, to keep defending myself to this woman who I needed to believe me, to trust me. “When I was younger, I was accused of something I didn’t do, and it nearly destroyed me. I was desperate to prove my innocence, but no one would listen. I was powerless, and I felt so . . .” I paused as my throat thickened with the rotten memories, “betrayed.”
Her eyes shimmered with a vulnerability that clouded her expression. Yet she didn’t say anything.
“But what happened with Indiana was my greatest shame. I can’t change the past, no matter how much I wish I could. All I can do is be a better man.”
She traced soft circles on the back of her injured hand with her thumb, yet she remained silent.