Page 50 of Undoing His Innocent Enemy (Hot Winter Escapes)

It was a dismissal. Maybe even an ultimatum. But as he walked away, picking up his clothing to take the stairs to the living area below, she didn’t stop him.

Talking more tonight was pointless. She was over-emotional. And they were both on edge, both tired, and when you factored in that endless hunger that never seemed to die between them, and his determination to use it against her... She wrapped her own arms around her body as she heard him making up a bed for himself on the sofa downstairs.

She crawled under the embroidered quilt, curled up in a ball, taking in a lungful of his clean fresh scent, bergamot and pine, rubbing her thighs together to ignore the sensation still humming at her core, where he had touched her with such purpose, such skill.

The low howl of a wolf in the distance cut through the crackle of the fire from downstairs and the thunder of her own heartbeat as she closed her eyes. And squeezed them tightly shut around the stinging tears.

Maybe tomorrow, once they’d both slept, she could reason with him again. She wasn’t giving up, not yet. Not entirely.

But her heart felt unbearably heavy, as she finally drifted into a fitful sleep.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Your snowmobile is in the garage. It is fuelled and has a GPS to guide you to Saariselkä. Leave early and do not travel at night. If you change your mind, I will be waiting.

[email protected] he will arrange everything. But until then tell no one of our time together.

Logan

ATEARBURNEDCara’s cheek as she stared at the note left on the coffee table. She brushed the moisture away with her fist. The empty living area, which had seemed so romantic last night, now felt vacant and oppressive.

She walked onto the deck and spotted the empty space where Logan had parked his snowmobile the day before.

Logan was gone. He must have left early, before she had woken up. And all she had of him now was this curt message.

Hopelessness opened like a black hole in the pit of her stomach.

If you change your mind, I will be waiting...

A part of her wanted desperately to cling to that phrase. He had given her a chance to rewrite last night’s argument—and get to the outcome they both wanted. To be together.

But as she sucked in an unsteady breath, trying desperately not to dissolve into tears, the pain in her chest refused to ease.

Because he hadn’t given them a chance. Not really. What that phrase really meant was either you do this on my terms, or not at all.

But it was worse than that, because she knew the next few days and weeks, even months, were going to be torture—as she forced herself to resist his invitation.

She was going to miss him, so much. Miss him and the intense time they had spent together. Alone. In his stunning home on the edge of the world.

Not just the moments when he had given her more pleasure than she had realised she was capable of, hell, had even known existed before he had touched her, and tasted her. But also, those moments out of bed, as they prepared meals together or enjoyed the silence. The rush of ice swimming with him. Even the passion and anger of the arguments they’d had felt more real, more intense, than anything she’d ever experienced. She’d miss his home, too, that open, airy space, which should have felt like a prison, but never had. She’d loved the moments when she simply took the time to absorb the stillness, watching him work with those capable, skilled hands, carving something beautiful and compelling from the wood. The husky rumble of his voice as he teased or cajoled her, discovering a boyish side to his nature she was sure he’d never realised was there before her.

They had been good for each other. In so many ways. Because Logan hadn’t been the only one living in isolation. The only one who had been lonely and alone before they’d met.

She left the note on the table, swallowing past the huge constriction in her throat. And let out a shout of frustration—that no one could hear but her.

Damn it, how could she hate him and love him at the same time?

She forced herself to put on her outdoor layers, to douse the fire in the wood burner, and leave the cabin, closing the door behind her firmly—even if she knew she would never be able to close out all the memories.

She found her snowmobile in the garage—repaired, just as he had promised her two weeks before. It occurred to her he must have arranged to have the machine brought here so he could avoid having anyone visit his home...

But when?

Had he always intended to use his invitation as an ultimatum? To discard her if she didn’t agree to his terms? Or had last night’s invitation been an impulse that he had regretted?

She opened the garage door, climbed onto the machine. As soon as she turned the key in the ignition, the well-oiled hum of the engine—so different from the ominous rattle it used to have whenever she started it—suggested no expense had been spared making it roadworthy again.

She gulped down a sob. Why did the thought of the effort he had made to prepare for her departure only make this that much harder?

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