Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,275

in more ways than one. During that kiss downstairs, the man she’d always thought of as emotionally safe had plucked at something tender and possessive in her chest. It was sickening, not to mention gravely alarming. If she’d developed feelings for the twenty-eight-year-old friend who’d firmly turned her down, she was going to be very displeased with herself.

Rae sighed, a self-indulgent, gusty huff that she really, really enjoyed.

Then Zach murmured, sounding much too alert, “You awake?”

Shit.

She considered lying, then remembered that lying would still reveal she was awake. Playing dead, like Duke sometimes did when it was time to visit the vet, seemed beneath her. In the end, she cleared her throat and said, “Yes.”

The sheets rustled. There were a few violent dips in the mattress, like a bedtime earthquake, and the shape of Zach in the dark transformed. He’d rolled over. Now they lay side by side, staring holes into each other, and she felt the ghost of his breath against her cheek. She could smell the mint toothpaste they shared, too. Every exhalation caused a zing up her spine and a flutter in her belly, which was rather inconvenient, all things considered.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Are you?” she shot back, like it was a trick question.

He huffed out a laugh and she imagined him shaking his head at her prickliness. “Relax, Rae.” Easy for him to say. He wasn’t coping with doomed lust 24 hours a day. “I wanted to ask you about what happened after dinner.”

The silence that followed was short but heavy. She panicked and wondered if he could secretly read minds. Maybe her thoughts were getting so out of hand that even he, after years of hiding his power for his own protection, could no longer feign ignorance. She was preparing a speech about how he could trust her not to sell his story to the papers, or report his existence to the government, when he finally spoke.

“Are kids… a difficult subject for you?” There was a wince in his voice, like he thought she might burst into tears.

Oh. No mind-reading powers, then. Thank goodness for small mercies. “No,” she said, then added, since people always wanted to know: “I don’t have any kids because I’ve never wanted them.”

“So, you’re not emotionally gutted by the sight of Kevin Junior, or anything?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You may find this hard to believe, but I am a woman who does not regret being childless.”

“I just wanted to make sure. But no, I don’t find it hard to believe.” He didn’t sound like he was lying.

Still, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the outline of his head. “Why not? Most people do.”

“Probably because I don’t want kids either.”

“Ha,” she barked, and remembered a similar conversation in another life. Earnest eyes behind sharp spectacles and words she’d worried she might never hear. “That’s what Kevin said, and look. You’ll change your mind.” About everything. She knew that well enough.

Mildly, Zach asked, “How many people told you that you’d change your mind?”

Rae opened her mouth, then shut it. Blinked. Finally, she tutted, “Stop that.”

There was a smile in his voice. “Stop what?”

“Making sensible arguments.”

“I can’t help it,” he said. “I have so much sense.”

She laughed, but the sound was brittle because she was still on edge. She could feel him beside her, heat and weight and aching presence, and she couldn’t shake the worry that he must be able to feel her too—a mass of unrequited lust and seething need and something deeper, more vulnerable, horribly emotional. Something she couldn’t bring herself to face head-on.

Silence fell, so she closed her eyes and tried her level best to sleep. But then Zach spoke again. “Another thing. About the kiss…” He trailed off for a moment, leaving a yawning gap of possibility between them. Then he said, “I’m sorry.”

Everything in her tensed. Sorry? As in, I’m sorry, but I know you’re obsessed with me? Sorry, but you’re freaking me out, and I’m leaving tomorrow before this goes further? Like helium leaking through a pinpricked balloon, she squeaked, “For what?”

“For kissing you like that. Without asking.”

The breath rushed out of her lungs. Oh. “It’s fine,” she said. “If I hadn’t wanted to, I would’ve told you.”

He shifted uncomfortably—guiltily, she realised. “Well, you couldn’t really shove me off in public without blowing our cover.”

This really must be bothering him, because he used a phrase like blowing our cover without milking every ounce of its ridiculousness.

“I didn’t need to shove you.” She reached out, meaning to

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