Page 39 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8
Her beautiful bed looked lonely. And she cursed herself one more time as she undressed and crawled between the cold sheets.
She wanted to blame the motion of the vessel for her tossing and turning, but her inner voice mocked her excuse. The only reason for her restlessness was the absence of Jario Tagarro in her bed.
And as the seconds slowly ticked away, she admitted that the suffering she’d glimpsed on his face also unsettled her, that whatever was going on beneath his facade had somehow gained greater importance for her.
For now.
She gritted her teeth, wishing for one selfish moment she could push her emotions down deep where they wouldn’t affect her. But for good or ill, they swelled, ever persistent.
And as ever, the image of her mother walking away, of staying away, because Willow hadn’t quite been enough, replayed in her head.
With a frustrated grunt, Willow tossed back the sheets and slid out of bed. It was pitch-black outside her window, sunrise nowhere in sight. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep.
Almost on automatic, she padded to the door, a compulsion she couldn’t deny pushing her forward. Just like it had last night when she’d ended up in the steam room, Willow wandered into the recreational area, her heart and breath and skin rousing with an innate awareness that she wasn’t the only one awake and restless.
She found him in the axe room, just like on her first night here.
Clearly, he’d been at it for a while because his back glistened with sweat and his damp hair clung to his neck.
‘Are you coming in or leaving?’ He didn’t turn around.
‘That depends.’
‘On?’
‘Is what you’re doing helping with whatever’s bothering you?’
He stiffened, then shot her a warning look over his shoulder. ‘You’ve picked the wrong time to amateur psychoanalyse me.’
‘Is there a right time?’
His eyes flared with surprise at her snapback.
Then he sauntered towards her, axe in hand. Something about watching him wielding such a dangerous tool sent primal heat swirling through her. Willow was nowhere near willing to examine why the man staring at her with hooded eyes crackling with coiled energy excited herthismuch.
They surged towards one another a second after he tossed the tool aside, diving into a fevered feast of kissing that seared her soul.
‘I want you in my bed,’ he muttered against her mouth after ending the kiss. ‘Against my every better judgement, I want to possess you, to be inside you so badly I can’t think straight.’
Against...better judgement.
The words, far too reminiscent of David’s, stopped her cold. Raising her hand, she pushed back from him, breaking the kiss with a decadent noise that further compounded her confusing feelings. ‘Then you should stop. After all, only one of us deserves to burn in hell, right?’
His control gathering was mesmeric to watch. For long moments he stared at her, then he shook his head, a touch of self-deprecation in the motion. ‘Indeed.’ One hand rose, traced down her flushed cheek. ‘If only you didn’t look like a damned delicious angel while doing so.’
Spikes of distress and unease stopped her insides from melting this time. Propelled her to take several steps back.
Made her turn and walk away.
But not before she saw surprise flare in his eyes at her retreat.
‘Where are you going,tesoro?’ he called after her. Faint amusement laced his tone but there was something else.Hunger.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw blazing eyes rushing over her body, unwavering in its intensity, making her acutely aware of every exposed inch, and even those parts that were covered but wanting.
It stirred up her roiling feelings, making her swallow before she could speak. ‘Anywhere but here. You can return to your axe throwing.’
One corner of his mouth kicked up in fleeting amusement, which thrilled her far more than it should’ve. ‘Are you sure?’