Page 21 of The Ring Thief
“I want to remember, though,” I say gently, before I harden my eyes. “Because I’d like to talk about how you ran into me on purpose.”
His lashes lower to shutter his eyes, but he can’t hide the way his cheeks lose color. It’s not much, but it’s enough of a confirmation that I chuckle, looking away from him.
“Lily, what the hell is this?” he demands roughly. “Can we just go home and talk properly?” I don’t answer, and he lets out a gusty exhale.
“I know that Sasha already told you where I was,” I tell him absentmindedly, watching a bird swoop to the surface of the water and dive. Itrises, droplets of water cascading down and a small fish trapped in its beak. “I was at home.” I set my hands on my thighs, hiding the way they tremble by digging my fingers into the denim.
Declan climbs one step, giving one sharp shake of his head. “No,” he snaps. “If you’d been home, you’d have been in our condo. Instead, I came home at?—”
He cuts himself off abruptly, and I peer at him with interest. “Oh, don’t stop now, Declan,” I chide. “You came home at…when?” His mouth presses into a thin line.
I watch him closely, picking up the signs I’d initially missed, lines etched deeply around his mouth, the tousled wave to his blond hair just a little too messy to be intentional, the crease lines in his white shirt, peeking out through the gap of his jacket.
When he doesn’t answer, I comment, “You seem stressed,” giving him a poised smile. “Your work emergency must’ve been pretty bad, especially if you came home at three in the morning.” I tilt my head to the side, murmuring, “I’ve talked to Sasha, too.”
I don’t add anything else, and frustration has his brows dipping together. He steps closer, the tips of his black loafers almost grazing my dirty sneakers, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun. I crane my neck, but don’t move otherwise.
“What game are you playing?” he demands tersely, but there’s an underlying edge of something I can’t get a read on.
I lift one shoulder. “I’m not playing a game,” I say, my right hand reaching over to spin the rings on my left hand. “I’m just finally figuring out the rules of your game. It would’ve been nice if you’d given me a heads up that we were even playing, but better late than never.”
He makes a rough noise, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Stop talking in riddles, Lily.”
Fine. I lock my eyes on him. “Why did you marry me, Declan?”
A wary expression flits through his eyes, but he shuts it down quickly, letting his lips tip into a small smile. “Because I love you,” he states, and then unfurls a hand, reaching it out to me. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home and talk about…whatever this is over dinner.”
I hide my flinch, barely. “Do you?” I murmur, ignoring his hand. Asad laugh escapes me, knowing that was the last chance I was willing to give. “Interesting.”
I stand and skate past him, but he’s too close, and my shoulder brushes against his side. I pretend it doesn’t affect me, but he inhales sharply, his fingers twitching like he’s about to reach out to grab me. I’m already gone, though, heading out of the gazebo and towards the edge of the lake.
“Lily!” he snaps behind me, his feet thumping behind me. His nostrils flare with every breath, the color seeping back into his high cheekbones, his anger palpable. “Don’t walk away from me, not in the middle of a conversation.” I don’t answer him, turning to face the water, his presence a brooding presence at my back. “Lily. For god’s sake…”
When he’s finished huffing and puffing, I ask, “Do you remember when I first started feeling unwell in Hawaii?”
He goes so quiet, I’m not even sure he’s breathing. I look at him, his expression perplexed. “It was…” he pauses, thinking back, like it wasn’t just a couple of days ago. “You went for a walk. You didn’t come back until dinner.”
I hum noncommittally. “Where were you?”
“Lily—” he starts to snap, but I shoot him a look.
“Where were you?” I repeat firmly.
“I was in the room. Remember?” His question is sarcastic, but I don’t let it get my back up. “I was too tired to go with you.”
Something changes, heat flashing into his eyes, making the chocolate melt. He steps closer, reaching out to trace his fingers in a teasing path over the nape of my neck. He’s close enough that his breath coasts over my ear, his voice lowering to an intimate whisper, “You’d worn me out the night before.” A finger drops lower, following the line of my spine through the thin cotton of the shirt. “We kept falling asleep, but would just wake up again, hungry for each other…” he groans, his other hand reaching around to touch the side of my jaw, as if he was about to angle my head towards him. It’s a familiar move, one he’s done plenty of times before.
“I missed you last night,” he rasps. “My bed was cold and lonely without you in it.”
The memories are vivid, bought into full color by his words. Before,a spark of electricity would have shot down my spine at his suggestive tone, the rough baritone acting like a physical stroke over my nerve endings.Before, my panties would’ve grown damp as desire curled low in my belly.
A physical response, attraction, had never been a problem for us, our bodies acting like magnets forcibly drawn together and difficult to part.
I suppose it was that chemistry that made it that much easier for him to fake.
Now, his fingers leave an icy chill everywhere they touch. It’s almost like I’m seeing it from a distance; as if it were happening to someone else.
“That’s right,” I say, as if I’d just remembered. “I left you in bed that day, but I forgot my phone.” He pauses, and I take the opportunity to duck away from his touch. I face him head on, my eyes cold, and he stumbles back a step. “I came back as soon as I realized. I was worried you’d need me, and I didn’t want to make you worry.” I let out a low laugh at the irony, unable to completely smother the bitterness.
