Page 83 of Sinful

He helped me out of the bath and grabbed my towel for me. As I dried off, I kept my eyes on my clothes, praying he wouldn’t decide to help me further by picking them up for me. If he did, he might feel the card in the shirt pocket, and then… well, I didn’t even want to imagine the consequences.

He caught me looking at the clothes and frowned. I snapped my gaze away, but it was too late. He was staring at them now.

“I should get you some fresh clothes,” he said. “You’ve had those ones for a couple of days, and they got wet in the rain earlier.”

“No.” I fervently shook my head. “It’s fine. I’ve barely worn them, and they look dry now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. They’re very comfortable. The only reason I didn’t wear them much is because of my sore back. But I want them now.”

He shrugged as he put his own clothes back on. “All right. Suit yourself.”

The rain had slowed to a mere patter when we went back outside. I inhaled deeply, taking in the wonderful earthy scentsurrounding us. I’d missed this so much; the smell and sight of nature.

Sebastian picked me up and carried me across the yard so I didn’t get any mud or grass on my bare feet. It felt strange to imagine that in just a few short hours, those strong arms of his would be limp and lifeless, never to hold anything again.

When we reached the underground cell, he fumbled in his pocket and grimaced. “Shit,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my face the picture of innocence.

“I must’ve dropped the card somewhere.”

“Oh.”

He smiled. “Luckily, I did this.”

He stepped over to the desk on the other side of the space; the one I’d now realized was covered with his research into Miranda’s death. He opened the top drawer and produced another black and gold keycard.

“I had copies made just in case,” he said, grinning over at me. “I had a feeling I’d probably lose one at some point. I’ve always been clumsy like that.”

“Really? You’ve always seemed very organized to me.”

“Not when it comes to keys.” He rubbed his jaw as he pressed the new keycard on the lock. “Back in college, I lost my dorm key twelve times.”

“Then it was smart to have copies made,” I said, smiling demurely.

He pushed the door open and ushered me inside the cell. “I’ll be back later tonight, if all goes well,” he said. “We can have a nice big dinner then. Sound good?”

“Yes. Thank you,” I murmured.

“I’m glad we’ve figured out a way to get along, Rose,” he said, lips quirking in a faint smile.

“Me too.”

He turned and headed over to the door. Then he stopped in his tracks. “Wait a minute,” he said, words slow and measured.

My heart leapt into my throat. He must have figured out that I took the other card. Now he was going to hurt me or kill me.

He turned around, eyes coasting over my face and body. “I forgot something,” he said in a low voice.

“What?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

“This.” He strode over to me, snaked one arm around my waist, and leaned down to crush his lips against mine.

My eyes widened with shock. For a split-second, I considered pulling away, but I immediately realized I didn’t want to. Maybe it was because of the relief coursing through my body from the near miss. Maybe it was from the fear and hatred flooding me with adrenaline. Maybe it was due to the knowledge that I was never going to see him again.

Or maybe it was just the wine.

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