Page 111 of Deep Tide

She stroked his forehead again, then trailed her hand down and rested it against his chest.

“Is it over?”

“Yes.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“Good,” she whispered.

But it was bad, too, because now he had to leave.

Leyla closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about it. He pulled her leg over his stomach, and she sighed quietly.

She felt loose. Her body hummed from exertion, and she knew she would have no trouble sleeping now. But she couldn’t. She had to get up in less than an hour. She barely had time to close her eyes.

But she needed to. Only for a minute.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

Sean came awake with a hammer pounding against his skull. He looked around the still-dark room. The space beside him was empty.

He sat up and swung his legs out of bed, wincing as his head seemed to explode. It was like his worst hangover doubled. He grabbed his jeans off the floor and pulled them on, then followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen.

Leyla stood at the counter, her back to him as she poured coffee into a paper cup. She wore black jeans and a T-shirt, and her hair was damp and loose. He’d missed her shower, apparently. He hadn’t even heard it.

He stepped into the kitchen, and she whirled around.

“You’re up.” She looked surprised. “I thought you’d sleep in.”

He walked over and slid his hand around her waist. She had beard burn on her neck, and he felt strangely proud.

She gazed up at him with a wary look. Sean kissed her. Her mouth was soft, but everything else about her seemed tense.

“Your forehead looks terrible.” She turned away and opened the freezer. “Do you think you need to get it checked out?”

“No.”

She handed him a bag of something frozen. “You might have a concussion.”

“I’m fine.” He glanced at the bag. Artichokes. He set it on the counter and looked her over. Yep, she was definitely uptight about something. “You going in?”

“Yes, and I’m running late.” She nodded at the coffeepot. “That’s for you. It’ll stay warm for two hours. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

Beside the coffeepot was a mug with a pink sticky note tucked under it. That would be for him, too.

He glanced at her. “Gimme a sec.”

He went to the bedroom for the rest of his stuff, including the holster he’d taken off barely two hours ago. When he returned to the kitchen, she was standing by the door.

“Mind if I take a to-go cup?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

He filled a lidded paper cup like the ones they had at the Beanery. The pink note was gone now, and she’d put the artichokes back in the freezer.

He replaced the coffee carafe and turned around.

“You really don’t have to leave yet.” She looked guilty, and he knew she wished he had stayed sound asleep so she could have skipped the awkwardness.

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