Page 18 of Fear of Flames
He lifted his brow in question.
Michelle nodded.
Fletch’s jaw tightened before his eyes closed. Moving back, he lifted her knees and lined himself up with her entrance. “I can’t believe I have you like this.”
“Please, Fletch. I want you.”
Her neck straightened and her back arched as they came together as one.
Moving hard and fast, Fletch seemed as though he was afraid that Michelle would disappear before they could both find bliss. As the day turned to evening and the skies darkened, their lovemaking slowed. They explored one another’s bodies, touching, kissing, and licking. Their activities took them from the bed to the rug in front of the fireplace and finally back to bed.
A few times they paused for food and drink.
There were questions to be asked and answers to be sought, yet in this reprieve, they both allowed those to stay silenced. Darkness abounded beyond the windows as they continued their one night of existence. If this was all they would have, neither one of them wanted to stop for something as insignificant as sleep.
Nevertheless, at some point, sleep prevailed.
When Michelle woke, the sky beyond the windows was lighter, and she was alone in the bed.
Sadness and loneliness fell over her like a thick, soaking rain.
Fletch was gone.
He left her. He left her alone.
He didn’t do any of the things he’d promised, taking her home or making sure she was safe. Maybe he wasn’t real. Maybe she’d imagined everything—hallucinations brought on by stress and grief.
As the tears that had been held at bay at the loss of her father and all that she and Fletch had endured began to overflow onto her cheeks, she heard the front door open. Wiping the tears with the back of her hand, she stood and wrapped the sheet around her breasts. Tentatively, Michelle stepped into the living room.
Fletch’s smile wasn’t as bright as it had been last night, yet it was there, along with the shimmer in his black eyes. “The goddess awakes.”
She tugged the sheet tighter around her form, unsure if she could believe his words. “I thought you left me.”
Fletched paused as if he were fighting an internal battle. His dark stare remained on Michelle, something unknown swirling in the black hole of his orbs. She couldn’t read his expression, yet at the same time, she didn’t want to look away.
Finally, Fletch inhaled. “Not leaving you yet.” His answer was honest. “My contact has a truck for us a few miles from here. We can be there in less than fifteen minutes on the snowmobile. I just dug it out of the snow. The storm is over.”
“A truck? And then where?”
“Indianapolis, to your home. My contact has been working on alibis.” Fletch turned away. His neck and shoulders braced with determination as he paced near the hearth and the lingering embers from last night’s fire. “I can get you back to your house, and you can deny any knowledge of what occurred at your father’s house.”
“My car.”
He nodded. “You left your car at Denny’s house on your way to Boston. He asked to borrow it.”
“But…”
Fletch lifted his hand. “You took a bus to Boston. My contact will have a ticket for you.” Before she could question further, he went on. “After the event, you went straight home via airplane. The weather was too unpredictable to go back to Iron Falls. Since then, you’ve been holed up in your house writing. All your communication was turned off. You had no idea of what was going on.”
“And record of my flight from Boston to Indianapolis?”
“You’ll have it.”
Michelle blinked, trying to make sense of everything. “Who do you work with or for who can magically create a paper trail that doesn’t exist?”
Fletch’s firm lips pressed tightly together.
Swallowing her emotions, Michelle conceded. This was her fate—their fate. It wasn’t as if Fletch had made her promises he wasn’t keeping. Inhaling, she nodded. “I need to get dressed.”
