that. You pretend to be someone you’re not every day of your life!”
I slide off the bed and put my feet on the floor. We’re on opposite sides of the bed now. “Can you blame me for trying to keep my life private? Look what happened with what little information I did put out there!”
He begins to walk around the bed, and I realize I have nowhere to go. The only thing behind me is a wall. I back all the way up to it until he’s directly in front of me. My heart is pounding so hard. My mouth is dry. He’s already proved I’m no match for him physically.
“We’re no different, Megan,” he says, his voice quieter now. He’s towering over me, making me feel completely helpless. “You needed inspiration. I gave that to you in more ways than you could have possibly contrived inside that head of yours.” He leans forward, bringing his mouth to my ear. “And you loved it. You’re welcome.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I can tell he hasn’t backed up because I can feel his breath against my cheek. A tear falls out of my eye and slowly trickles down to my jawline. I flinch when he wipes it away with his finger.
I’m not convinced I’m safe, but I’m also not convinced he has plans to hurt me in any way. At least physically. But knowing he’s not actually married puts an entirely different spin on our situation. He has nothing to lose if our affair were to come to light.
I have everything to lose.
I swallow, and then lift my eyes to his. “Are you going to tell my husband?”
He looks offended when I ask that. “Do you really think I’d do that to you?”
“I have no idea what you’re capable of.”
He’s quiet for a moment—standing inches from me—his eyes scrolling my face. He focuses on my mouth and leans forward a little. He brings a hand up and touches my trembling bottom lip with his fingers, as if he’s longing to kiss me again. “I’m capable of a lot of things. But hurting you isn’t one of them.”
I’m trying to maintain control of my reactions. I don’t want him to see how scared I am... but I also don’t want him to see that a small sick part of me is devastated it’s over.
“Do me a favor, Megan,” he says, his voice low. “When you finish this book, dedicate it to Saint, because he fucked that story out of you.”
I gasp when he says that, but not because I’m scared. I gasp because I shouldn’t be feeling what I’m feeling right now. I shouldn’t want him to touch me, to kiss me, to fuck me.
“I want to leave,” I whisper.
He’s still staring at my mouth, grazing my lips with his finger. His eyes lock with mine, and he completely ignores my request by closing the small gap between us and kissing me. His tongue dives into my mouth and sweeps across mine, blending the heat of our mouths together. I don’t want to kiss him back, but I’m afraid my mouth might betray me if I don’t push him away from me.
As soon as I press my hands against his chest, he pulls away from me and takes a huge deliberate step back, leaving a gap between me and the bedroom door.
For a split second, I see something in his eyes I haven’t seen before. It’s like a flash of honest vulnerability—like he doesn’t want me to leave. He’s hoping I change my mind and stay.
He’s fucking insane.
I don’t waste a single second.
I immediately push off the wall, grabbing my phone, my suitcase, and then my laptop. I don’t look behind me to see if he’s about to stop me. I take everything straight out the front door and to my car. I toss the suitcase and the laptop in the backseat.
I open the front door, and after I climb inside my car, I lock all the doors. I start the car. I put it in reverse.
Only then do I dare look up.
Saint is leaning against the front door of the cabin, watching me leave. I keep my eyes locked on him as I back down the driveway. I want to make sure he isn’t coming after me.
Right before I turn the wheel to back onto the road, he lifts a hand and waves, as if our parting is just a casual goodbye and I’m not running for my life.