Page 103 of Never Leave Me
She wasn’t sure how that had happened, but she was securely buried underneath her covers, and he lay on top fully clothed. There was nothing indecent about their situation.
Her fear dissipated, and a delicious tremor wound through her.
She tilted back enough to see his face, his dear, dear face. The dark shadows under his eyes spoke of the toll the past few days had taken, and the creases in his forehead spoke of the worries that plagued him even in his rest.
Carefully, she extricated her arms from beneath the covers. A part of her urged her to get up, allow him to sleep. But anotherpart of her protested wasting any more time. If they had so little left, she didn’t want to squander a single second of being with him.
She started to lift her hand to his cheek but stopped. She was still wearing Marian’s ring on the third finger of her left hand. Somehow it had stayed with her.
She stared at it, wonder expanding through her.
The slender golden band intricately engraved with leaves was proof she had seen Marian and Dad, that she hadn’t just experienced a realistic, coma-induced dream. It silenced any doubts that she’d really crossed into the past.
She wiggled her finger. The smooth band was as real as any other ring she’d ever worn, the visible sign of her marriage to Harrison.
Maybe he hadn’t expected their union to be permanent or their vows to carry over into the present. But the ring was all the confirmation she needed to know that their marriage had been binding throughout time, that she was his wife as much in the present as she’d been in the past.
She gently laid her hand against his cheek, the dark stubble rough and sensual. This man was her husband ... and she didn’t want to let him go.
But was it too late? They both needed another dose of holy water if they had any hope of surviving. What was the point in giving way to her feelings for him now that the end was so near? Why torture herself with what would never be?
She started to move away from him, then hesitated. No. That was the kind of thinking that had held her back before—accepting her fate too easily and denying herself the future, no matter which era she was in. Maybe it was finally time to stop letting fear hold her back in relationships and give herself freely to Harrison—even if only for a few days.
Was she brave enough to do so?
She let her fingers roam once more, tracing the strong line of his cheek to his chin. Courage. She had to have courage.
Before she could stop herself, she bent in and pressed a kiss to his jawline. One kiss was followed by two, then three, until she lost count as she left a soft trail. She stretched higher, arching into him and feeling the long length of him.
She could sense his wakening as fingers splayed at her back and as his breathing quickened.
Did she dare kiss him? Truly kiss him, not because they were pretending for someone else but to show him how much she cared about him?
She brushed her lips against his lightly, testing him. He’d admitted he loved her and had for years. But that didn’t mean he felt the same way about their marriage as she did.
He rubbed his bristly cheek against hers, their chins brushing and then their noses. Maybe if she told him how she felt...
“Harrison—”
His mouth captured hers hungrily, putting an end to the teasing. He swept in as powerfully as he always did, the crushing intensity sending gusts of heat through her middle. The heat rushed to her limbs and to every part of her body, setting her on fire.
She slid her hands up his torso, letting her fingers dance across every ridge of his ribs until she found his heart. The pulse there was strong, hard, and steady.
“Harrison,” she whispered, breaking their connection. “I’m not pretending today.”
His breathing was labored against her lips.
“Actually, I don’t think it ever was playacting,” she whispered. “I was just too scared to admit it was real.”
“It was never playacting for me either.” He bent his head, and his lips made contact with her neck near her collarbone.
She dug her fingers into his shirt. His kisses were making herlose coherency. She had to say the rest of what she needed to before she lost the chance.
At the pressure of something between her hip and the bed, she reached down, and her fingers brushed against a small glass item. A bottle.
She broke away from him and discovered it was one of the green bottles she’d used for filling holy water from the leather flask. Except this one was a slightly different shape than the two she’d left in the vault for Harrison. Small enough to fit into the palm of a hand, it had a bulbous body that was somewhat misshapen with a long neck. It was one of the two she’d put into the leather pouch she’d given to her dad.
Extricating herself further, she pushed up.
