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He crooked a finger and lifted her chin so their gazes met. “Not even a little.” His lips covered hers, and her recentlyquieted pulse quickened again. When he lifted them, he murmured, “The timing could have been better. But this was inevitable. And when Thorne is in custody, we can spend far more time exploring why.”
The idea was as fascinating as it was terrifying. “It’s not…I just…I don’t do this,” she blurted out.
His hand paused midstroke. “Ever?”
“I mean…serious relationships.” Her tongue stumbled over the phrase. It was a vast understatement. She only infrequently took things to a second date. Distance meant safety. Walls intact. Vulnerability impossible. “My schedule has made it dicey.”
If he recognized the weakness of her excuse, he didn’t call her on it. His hand resumed its leisurely glide. “I get that. Getting close to someone. It calls for reprioritizing our choices.”
“Have you?” She caught her breath, immediately wanting to call the words back. Asking personal questions opened her up to having to answer a few herself. And she didn’t know if she possessed the courage for that.
He was silent for so long that Reese wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Or if he just was unwilling to say more. Finally, he said, “There was someone I was close to. I’d just started at Quantico. She was a junior humanities professor at a local college. Then, a couple of years later she got an offer for a tenure-track position at a school in Massachusetts. I’d received an offer from Raiker. She wasn’t interested in a long-distance relationship. A year after that, I realized she’d been right.”
His profile was etched in shadows. The darkness that enveloped them was as intimate as the sex they’d shared earlier. Suddenly desperate for space between them, she lifted her head, rolling so her back was to him. “Why?”
Hayes bunched up the pillow beneath his head and moved closer, draping his free arm over her waist, her butt nestled against his groin. “Because that’s when I led my first soloinvestigation and met a woman who’d fixed herself in my mind. Proved unforgettable.”
She shook her head mutely. He didn’t know her. Couldn’t. She realized exactly what he’d demand in return. No walls. No secrets. Both weren’t just a part of her, they were integral to her self-preservation.
Reese felt his lips brush her hair. “I know what I’m asking. But when Thorne is out of the picture…”
“He’s responsible for the long road I’ve taken to recover the last year and a half.” Her whisper was so low she wasn’t certain he could even hear her. Or if she wanted him to. “But he’s not the reason for the walls. I was ten the first time it happened. My parents had a dinner party. There was a man there.” Unbidden, the image of Dan Bolton swam across her mind. Something inside her recoiled, with the same level of revulsion as her ten-year-old self. “He paid me a lot of attention. Made my flesh crawl, but I didn’t know why. Not then.”
“You…sensed something?”
“He cornered me after dinner, and I could see what he was thinking. What he’d done. And even though his memories were compelled by guilt, he was considering how he could do exactly the same thing to me.”
His arm at her waist tightened. “Bastard.”
And then some. Reese had been horrified at the images, not really old enough to have the words to describe what the pictures in his mind meant, just knowing he was a monster. “I told my parents he was horrible. That he hurt children. They scolded me for speaking like that about someone I didn’t really know. Three years later, his arrest made headlines for months.”
“You never talked to them about it again?”
She shook her head mutely. “They wouldn’t understand. How could they?” She’d known intuitively what her parents’ reactions would have been. One child already institutionalizedwith a serious mental illness. Another who claimed to read people’s guilty thoughts? Hers was a child’s mind struggling to comprehend things most adults couldn’t, but she’d recognized even then that she couldn’t reveal her “gift.”
And layered beneath that knowledge was the clawing fear they might send her away, too.
“We can figure this out together. I’m just asking for you to give us a chance.”
A nebulous ribbon of hope unfurled at his words. Maybe she’d be right, and the curse was gone for good. Then, she could lower her defenses and face the world knowing they were no longer necessary.
As the minutes ticked by, she felt his body relax against hers. His breathing slowed. But her mind still wrestled with a solitary truth—Hayes had said more than once that he believed the loss of the visions was temporary. And if that was the case, what he was asking wasn’t just impossible. It might end up destroying her.
Hayes whistled softlyunder his breath, feeling undeniably cheerful despite not getting more than a few hours of sleep. They’d slept in only because both of them had left their cells on the table in the other room. As the coffee finished brewing, he scrolled through the messages he’d missed. The most recent was from Mendes, and had his mood dimming somewhat. He set down the cell to pour the coffee into a mug. Hearing a slight sound behind him, he turned to see a sleepy-eyed Reese stumble out of the bedroom. She’d pulled on a T-shirt and carried the smaller of her bags. She looked adorably rumpled with her curly hair tousled around her face. “Good morning.”
Her gaze darted to his and then away. “Morning.”
“C’mere.”
After the briefest of hesitations, she veered to head toward him as he held out the mug of steaming coffee. But when she reached him, he lowered his head to give her a quick, hard kiss before pressing the mug into her hand. She blinked slowly, her brown eyes slumbrous, and a flicker of satisfaction filled him. Hayes was all too aware that she hadn’t agreed to anything when they’d talked last night. It’d take time to put all her doubts to rest. He just had to convince her to give it a chance.
Givethema chance.
“Very sneaky, Moreland.” There was a smile in her voice when she brought the coffee to her lips and drank. “Weaken the knees before supplying me with coffee to steady them.”
“I make your knees weak?” He poured himself a mug. “Tell me more.”
“You’ve got a move or two.”