Page 25 of Secrets in a Sandstorm

I give in and press my lips to the back of his neck. “It’s much better when neither of us is slurring our words and stumbling to bed. When you can take your time instead of rushing and fearing getting caught.”

“We’re not going to be caught now.”

“We aren’t.” I should end this little fantasy, as it’s only going to hurt us both. But we are both so damaged already. What’s another bruise? Another cut? Another open wound that will never heal?

I couldn’t invite him to my bed at HQ. “We’ll take some leave together. To Cairo.” There are places where no one looks twice and places where being with a man will get you killed. The trick is knowing where to go. “We’ll get a hotel room with one big bed, and we won’t leave it for days.

Teddy makes a little noise. “We’ll need to order room service.”

“We will. And we’ll spend the rest of the time making love until we’re too exhausted to move.”

“What’s that like?” His grip on my hand loosens, so I hold his hand.

I’m not ready to let go, even though I know it’s coming.

“There’s nothing better than waking up naked, curled up against your lover.” I kiss the back of his neck again, tasting the sweat and sand and skin. I wish I had not hidden my heart so well that even I forgot where I placed it. “Their skin warm and supple.”

What else can I tell him? I only spent a handful of nights with James, and every other moment was stolen.

“Keep going.” His voice is soft, almost drowned out by the hissing and crackling of the fire and the howling of the wind.

I know what he’s asking, but finding the right words isn’t easy. I haven’t let myself think about finding pleasure in another’s arms and now is the wrong time.

“What will we do?” Teddy presses. His breathing is too fast and shallow.

I swallow, but the lump in my throat doesn’t go down. “Like this, I’d slide between your thighs. I’d touch every part of you I can reach until you’re aching to spill. I’ll kiss you until you can’t breathe.”

His fingers become limp in mine.

He doesn’t ask for more.

“We’ll meet in Cairo,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I give into the grief. My body shakes as I hold him until he stops breathing.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

1942

CYRIL

The fire has gone out, and the storm is still going. I hold Teddy in my arms so as not to disturb him. Not that he will wake and grumble.

There will be no Cairo.

I can only hope that my pathetic promise offered him some hope.

I should have left some for myself.

My fingers prickle with pins and needles, the weight of his head becoming too much. I carefully pull my arm free and lay his head on the sand. For a while, I lie on my back, staring into the dark and wondering if this is what it’s like to die.

To lose everyone and all hope and be adrift.

I’ve not become a better man. I am colder and more distant in an effort to protect my heart, and yet somehow, it is breaking for what will never be. I take the letter out of my pocket and turn it over in my fingers several times before turning on the flashlight.

My dearest Cyril,

From the first day I saw you, I knew you were the man for me. I delight in seeing you every morning, even if you are barking orders. I have wanted to kiss you so many times it is impossible to count, but I never find the courage, even after too many drinks. If I were a braver man, I would have made my feelings clear and risked the rebuff. Instead, I have chosen the coward’s way to avoid asking if you harbor similar feelings for me.

Eternally yours,

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