Page 82 of Verses Of Us

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He stood up with a huff, then ran his belt through the loops, focused on the task. “I’ve missed you, is all,” he added without looking at her. “It’s been a long time since I felt this, and I thought after last night…”

“Stop, Ciarán. Your endorphins are showing.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re high from last night. Don’t let it sway you into something you might regret.”

His nostrils flared and his eyes grew dark and sullen before shooting away from hers in one swift movement.

He reached for his coat, then slipped it on, his expression hardening. In his blue eyes she’d sorely missed, she saw the hurt she’d experienced years before, the pain of rejection. The knowledge that, though great, they shared something not meant to be.

For years, Alexis struggled to move on and get over that hump. Now she knew that even a marriage hadn’t killed her love for Ciarán.

He walked to her side, then bent down, planting a soft kiss against her temple.

“I’m damn well certain I would never regret it,” he whispered, his warm, sturdy voice sending shivers skittering across her skin. “Take care, Lex.”

Unwilling to watch him leave, her eyes shut of their own accord. The door slammed with a heavy thud that punched her in the gut, but also reinforced the wall she’d put up around her heart.

She dragged herself from bed and took a shower. The silence of the empty room and the water running down her body brought little comfort.

After getting dressed, she tucked her hair into a looseno-shits-givenknot, packed her suitcase and considered ordering in some food, even if she wasn’t hungry.

No, what she was, was confused. Confused by how her blood boiled and how her skin itched, but how it wasn’t because of the hot shower. Or how the pain in her chest seemed more intense, throbbing like a war drum.

Millions of thoughts battled in her mind and brought on a dull ache that pulsed between her temples. And the worst part was how every movement of her stiff body reminded her of the previous night, of Ciarán’s touches and kisses. Every step reminded her of him.

After years, his touch still set off tiny fires everywhere, still ignited her desire, still brought on orgasms that erupted like volcanoes. She shoved her fists into her eyes, trying to ignore the yearning she believed had died long ago.

She locked a hand on the suitcase handle, gripping it like a life preserver, and glanced around the room. With only one thought in mind—escaping Dublin as soon as possible before the familiar wound reopened—she hurriedly put her shoes and coat on, but something caught her eye. Ripped from the hotel’s stationary pad, a small piece of paper sat on the desk by the door with a series of digits scrolled beneath the words:Here’s my number, should you need it.

Her hands shook. Unsure what to do, she glimpsed the empty wastebasket, its dark cylindrical void calling for her to throw the note in, but she couldn’t let it go. Her hand clenched, crumpling the note, but she didn’t toss it. Both logical and illogical arguments ran through her mind.

With a resounding sigh and a small nod, she dropped the paper into the garbage, walking out without another look back. She pulled the heavy hotel room door shut, its thud like a gavel, finalising her choice, and walked down the hallway, her luggage trailing behind her, the walls reminders of the night before.

She waited for the elevator, her mind and body still loaded with all things Ciarán—the good, the bad, and the fiery. The doors opened, an older couple greeting her with kind smiles. She moved aside to let them pass, but when she stepped into the lift, one foot dragged behind, heavy and unwilling to follow the other. She stood as if on a cliff, unsure if she should stay on solid ground or take the leap. The elevator buzzed, the doors half-shutting and reopening.

Should she jump? Should she return to safety?

Fearful she was about to do something catastrophic, but also willing to see if this gamble might pay off, she dropped her suitcase and ran back the few feet to her room. With a shaky hand, she slid the key card through the slot.

A rush of relief and slight euphoria spread through her as she pulled the paper out of the wastebasket. There, on the floor of her hotel room, sitting on her haunches with a lump in her throat, and her heart beating out of her chest, she took her phone out and dialed.

CHANCES

Alexis

“Whattookyousolong?” Ciarán’s voice was low, but she could hear his smile.

“You know me? I had to over-think everything first.” She walked down the hallway to retrieve her abandoned suitcase. His laugh tickled her ear.

“So, what’s up?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think past calling you, really.” Next to her bag, she leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths. “Any suggestions?”

“Why don’t you come downstairs and we’ll go for a late breakfast?”

“Where are you?”

---