Page 52 of Kept in the Dark
My heart kicks out a faster rhythm. My brain goes quiet. Everything stills. All there is, is him and me—our shared breath, the shadow of desire, the weight of the moment.
Achingly slowly, he dips his head, the movement so slight I could almost convince myself it didn’t happen. Just as slowly, saturated with doubt and a longing so sharp I could cut myself on it, I mirror his movements.
Is this…? Are we…? This isn’t like before, when I misread the moment…
Eventually, we’re too close, and I have to close my eyes because they’re crossing. I feel the slightest whisper of a touch across my lips. His hand sweeps up my back and tangles in the hair at the base of my skull, tilting my head back a fraction—controlling, forceful, greedy.
The fabric of his shirt bunches in my grip. Blood pounds between my legs, hot and demanding.
I want to scream at him to touch me. I want to pull away so he’ll give chase. I want to feel his hand tighten in my hair and the weight of his heavy palm against my throat again.
The second time his mouth touches mine, it’s less uncertain but still exploratory—like he’s trying to figure out how much he wants to take, or how much I’ll let him. He makes a noise deep in his chest when I try to use my hold on his shirt to pull him closer.
“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs, agonized. Every consonant brings his lips close enough to brush against mine.
I have no answer to that. I don’t know what to say. But whatever it is, he’s doing the same damn thing to me.
It’s the storm that makes the suspended decision for us. A sharp jerk of the boat knocks me into him. Our faces collide, cushioned only by lips pursed to do something else. Our teeth clack together, but his hold in my hair keeps it from causing injury.
The momentum fuses us together for an instant too brief to provide relief, before swinging the other way. We’re wrenched apart and I’m left wild-eyed and unfulfilled, heaving huge breaths and wishing I’d opened my mouth for a taste.
In his eyes… No one has ever looked at me the way he does—like I’m damnation and salvation, condemnation and forgiveness, the source of his pain and the only thing that can soothe it.
“Dimitri, please,” I hear myself whisper. What am I asking for?
He shakes his head, then presses his forehead to mine. It’s almost unbelievably intimate, and I close my eyes against the onslaught of strain and tenderness.
“No, my med. Not here. Not now.”
This time his “no” feels much more like hitting pause than stopping it altogether. It’s not a rejection—it’s a promise.
With an air of finality, he tucks me back against his chest. I can’t be sure how or when it happens, but eventually the movements of the boat smooth out. The rocking becomes the tranquil rhythm that has eased me to sleep for the past few nights. My eyes get heavy, and I fall asleep in his arms.
15
Nicole
I can’t believe I backed the wrong fucking horse.
I’m lying down now. The bed is cold, so he’s gone. There’s some light streaming into the cabin from the door left slightly ajar. I close my eyes again.
“What?!”
The urgent tone grabs my attention, pulling me from that liminal space between sleep and waking. Something about this feels wrong. The door clicks closed, like Dimitri shut it for privacy, and I sit up, craning to hear the soft words.
It’s no use; I can’t hear him anymore.
Silently, I slip out of the bed—not even really sure why I’m sneaking—and creep over to the door and press my ear to it. Dimitri’s low voice is muffled, but audible.
“You are certain it’s him? How did he…fuck!I must have punctured a bowel with my knife. Usually, it takes days to die from that.”
My blood goes cold, and my heart thumps in my throat. Is he talking about Kyle? Is Kyle dead? A punctured bowel would be consistent with where Dimitri’s knife went in. And sepsis can set in quickly.
There is a long pause while he is listening. “No. I know. That is… very inconvenient. Fuck.”
His agitation is spiking my anxiety. My palms are sweaty, and my knees feel like jelly.
“You know we cannot leave witnesses,” he growls. “I will take care of it.”
