Page 57 of The Unfinished Line

Her thoughts drifted across the Atlantic. It was afternoon in her mam’s two-story brick home facing the sea. She knew she should call—wish them happy Christmas.

Tell them she missed them.

But there was a part of her that didn’t want to interrupt their day. The part that knew a certain peace came with her absence.

Kam stirred, the cadence of her breath shifting to wakefulness, drawing Dillon’s thoughts away from Swansea Bay. Lazily she stretched and rolled onto her side, tucking her head into the crook of Dillon’s neck.

“For better,” she murmured, echoing Dillon’s earlier words, settling onto the shared pillow. “Definitely for better.”

Then she was asleep again, and drawn into the warmth of her body, Dillon shortly followed suit.

Scene 21

There was not one scintilla of an iota of an atom in me that wanted to go to brunch.

I lay beneath the plush comforter and bemoaned every ounce of Dillon’s rationale persuading me not to call and cancel.

“Traffic’s going to be miserable,” I mumbled through the quilted down.

“No one drives on holidays.”

I humphed. “I have nothing to wear.”

“You have a perfectly good cashmere jumper in the car.” She tugged the comforter down past my head. “I saw you pack it.”

I snatched a pillow and covered my face. “They won’t even know we’re missing.”

“Please. There’s going to be a place card with your name on it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. She wasn’t even wrong.Miss Kameryn Kingsbury,it would read, with a curlicued serif at the end of each gold-plated letter.

She took a seat at the edge of the bed and I peeked out from beneath my place of hiding. “I have a script I’m supposed to be memorizing for an upcoming project.”

“You’re a fast learner. You can get to work when you get home.”

I didn’twantto get to work when I got home. I wanted to pullthe curtains in my bedroom and spend the remainder of every millisecond Dillon was here naked in my bed.

“Who said I was a fast learner?” I huffed again. “For all you know, I might be entirely inept.”

“You seemed to get the hang of things pretty quickly last night.”

God, I loved her sinful smile. The way her hair—still damp from a shower—hung in front of her eyes. The phenomenal masterpiece that were her cheekbones. Her sculpted jaw and graceful neck.

I aimed for casual, even as my brain careened straight to a short film of highlights from the past six hours. “I had a decent instructor.”

Judging by the warmth radiating off my face, my attempt to play it cool had epically failed. Was there a color darker than crimson? No one ever saidoh, she flushed a charming garnet, orshe blushed a pretty merlot.

“Decent?” She dropped beside me on an elbow, prying the pillow from my face. Her smile told me all I needed to know about the state of my cheeks. “Run-of-the-mill night for you, huh?”

“Oh, it was tolerable. I’d definitely rate it a passable experience.”

“Passable?”

I don’t know what was more agonizing—the wickedness of her slow smile, or the unhurried, deliberate way she drew aside the cover of the comforter. I was still in that in-between state, knowing she’d already thoroughly examined every inch of my body, and yet still fighting back modesty in the cold light of morning.

“Are we talking two-and-a-half stars? C average?”

“Oh, I’d say at least three stars—” I shrieked and laughed as she suddenly lunged for my wrists, capturing them in her stronghands. “Okay, okay, three and a half!” I put up a mock struggle as she pinned my arms above my head, lowering her weight atop my body. It was no longer only my cheeks that were on fire.

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