Page 77 of Was I Ever Here

“You own it?” I repeat back, confused. I walk back towards him as he pops the trunk and reaches for our bags. “So why didn’t we just come straight here?” I ask.

His smile is sincere when he looks over to me. “I thought you would enjoy the hotel life too.”

Touched, I don’t know what to say so instead I give him a quick kiss on the lips and return the smile.

“Thank you.”

Sadness drifts through his eyes, then disappears, shaking it off quickly. “Come. Let me show you around,” he says.

Our bags loaded in his arms, I follow him inside the house, but before I step on the porch my attention catches on the looming cliff far off in the distance and the same sense of dread trickles down my throat, the taste bitter. This time, I don’t stop to read into it and join Byzantine inside.

Chapter 43

Sunny

Thecottageisasnug little house with most rooms located on the main floor, a large fireplace in the living room and beautiful wooden stairs that lead to the mezzanine bedroom.

I’m obsessed. I might have loved the luxury of the hotel but this is much more my style, the coziness reaching every corner of the house. I explore the main floor, peeking inside cupboards and doors just for the hell of it.

“How is the fridge already fully stocked?”

Byzantine has been watching me explore with an amused look when he answers, “I have someone take care of the house when I’m away.”

“How often do you come here?”

“Not often as I would like.”

“Always with the vague answers,” I sniff.

Byzantine falls serious—preoccupied even.

“I try to come once a year, twice if I can get away,” he finally says, after a beat adding, “You’re the first person I’ve brought here actually.”

I try to hide the pride that swells in my chest, and simply give him a quick wink. “Is that so? Lucky, lucky,” I tut while I make my way towards him. He immediately envelops his arms around me when I reach him. “Why don’t you ever bring anyone here?” My curiosity over-powering my coyness.

Byzantine just shrugs. “I like my privacy,” he mutters, leaning over for a kiss. Soft and slow, making my spine tingle in response.

After he drops our bags up on the mezzanine, he strolls back down in a simple fitted black t-shirt, sweats and bare feet. I look at him up and down from one of the kitchen barstools.

“Hot.”

“What?” he says as he heads to the kitchen.

“Hot. You’re hot,” I repeat.

Byzantine pauses mid-way into opening a cupboard and looks back at me, a charmed look on his face.

I laugh, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.” He turns back around to reach for two glasses. “It’s just you’ve never been very direct with your compliments,” he says while reaching for the alcohol bottles lining the kitchen counter. “Gin?”

“Yes, please. Wait, you’re saying this is the first time I’ve told you I find you attractive? I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious,” I reply.

Ice clinks in the glasses. “Oh it is. It’s just nice to hear it from those pretty little lips of yours for a change,” he says with his back turned to me, amusement lacing his tone. My body’s reaction is instant as I cross my legs to quell the ache that’s beginning to build between my thighs.

He turns and hands me a cold glass full of gin and a twist of lemon. I reach for it, raising it to my lips, tension hanging heavy as we stare at each other, taking small sips of our respective drinks.

It’s Byzantine who finally breaks the silence. “Come. Let’s go sit outside.”

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