him. “Why are you here, Ari?”
Pulling his arms up, he grips his hands on the edge of the crypt. It only makes his biceps bulge more and spreads out the full breadth of his steel chest and strong shoulders. Ari moves with such lethal agility, long and languid, but I know if pushed the wrong way, that perfect body will become a weapon of such exquisite, heart-stopping violence.
Clenching my fingers into my palms, I fight the urge to walk over and explore his body with my fingers. To trace the ridges and valleys of his abdomen, to lift his shirt and drag the tip of my tongue across his skin.
Shaking that thought off, I blink my eyes to find him staring at me, an arrogant smirk adorning his face as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that, Adeline. It’s an invitation for me to take everything I want.”
I realize that even though he’s played my body into shattering apart twice, I’ve never touched him once.
Hating how husky my voice is, I point out the obvious. “You had the chance, but walked away instead.”
He chuckles at that, the sound empty of humor. “Maybe I’m trying not to destroy you.”
Stepping into the room, I lean back against another crypt, the short iron fence and burial plot of Samuel Rinehart between us.
“You have a high estimation of your skills in bed.”
He blinks, thick black lashes lining eyes of molten steel. “That’s not what I mean.”
An awkward silence falls, the tension stifling because rather than taking the opening and making some joke or dirty innuendo, Ari has responded with open honesty.
All I want is to round that fence and go to him, to wipe away the worry lines between his eyes, but I keep my distance because it’s safer for me this way.
It’s my turn to be honest.
“For some reason, I think you’re the type of man who would have as much concern for ripping out my throat as you would for crushing a bug. You don’t strike me as the type who cares who you destroy.”
“Normally, you’d be right.”
He jumps down from the crypt with the type of masculine grace that launches my heart into my throat. “But when it comes to you, you’re wrong.”
When he takes a few steps to walk off, panic grips me. I’m tired of the games he plays and the cryptic reasons he gives for playing them.
Before he can leave the room, I call out to him, my voice much stronger than it had been. “Why are you here, Ari? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
He stops, his hands tucked in his pockets and his face angled down. I study his profile as he takes a few seconds to answer. It sounds like a confession, something spoken more to himself than to me.
“You have no idea how badly I wish I knew the answer to that question.”
Ari leaves after saying it, disappearing into the shadows of the center room of the mausoleum, and I’m left leaning against a crypt wondering why he came here in the first place.
My instinct is to run after him, to demand answers, but I know it will be a wasted effort. He gives what he wants and won’t be pushed beyond that.
He begins the conversation where he wants and ends it where it wants, tossing out a few breadcrumbs while leaving nothing at the end of the trail you’ve followed.
Sighing, I bring my hands to the camera hanging from my neck and run my thumb over the shutter button.
At least I have this, I think. For now, anyway. I’m not willing to give it up.
With that thought, I place the earbuds back in my ears, start my playlist and get to work photographing the last room.
I know the perfect shots I need to tell my story, and I’m excited for the show, even if Ari will be the only person in the room who has any clue as to the photos’ meaning.
Ari
One thing is clear about the man Adeline married:
Grant Cabot, for all his posturing and lengthy rants about his status in the world, is nothing more than a pathetic human being who is as boring as he is insecure, and about as ruthless and terrifying as an earthworm.
Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, except for the fact that he has an annoying habit of realizing his weaknesses, becoming enraged by them and then bringing them home to use Adeline as the target of his aggression.
I