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She glanced up at Hawke and nodded. She would need that time to prepare for the battle to come. She had no illusions that her mother would willingly reveal secrets. She hadn’t seen Iris in years. They had no relationship, no real connection, so counting on any kind of familial bond to goad her mother into talking was not going to work. She needed another angle.
“There’s a bedroom in the back,” Hawke said. “Why don’t you go lie down?”
Without speaking, she stood and walked toward the back. She knew Hawke watched her closely, maybe even waiting for her to fall apart. She was past that stage. She actually wasn’t sure what stage she was in right now. There was numbness, but maybe also a bit of relief. Maybe at last she’d get some answers.
She opened the door, aware enough to note the serene décor of Caribbean blue and silver. She switched on the bedside lamp, turned off the overhead light, slipped off her shoes, and then dropped onto the bed. It was still early morning. The last few days had left her both exhausted and sleep-deprived. However, getting any sleep with everything spinning through her mind would be impossible. Just to lie prone for a couple hours would be helpful. A whirlwind of questions swirled through her scattered thoughts. If she could just settle for a few moments and find a moment of peace, perhaps something cohesive and coherent would arise.
The pillow was soft, the mattress firm, and the room was cool. The drone of the plane’s engines created a comforting white noise that should be conducive to rest. But that wasn’t going to happen. Everything she’d known in her life—all thirty-four years of it—was being called into question. Her mother could very well be a traitor. And the man she loved more than anything or anyone on the planet had believed at one time, at least, that Olivia might be one, too.
The bedroom door opened quietly, and Hawke walked in. She looked up to see him holding a glass of water. Two pills lay on his other palm.
“What’s that?”
“Sleeping pills.”
“No, thank you.” Waking groggy and thickheaded would be worse than getting no sleep at all.
“It’s a light dose. Just enough to relax you. You haven’t had more than a few hours sleep in the last three days. Your body is going to give out. Not only that, you need to be sharp when you question Iris.”
“I know that, but I’m not taking a sleeping pill.”
“There’s something else that used to put you to sleep better than sleeping pills.” A small smile lifted his mouth and heat shimmered like molten silver in his eyes.
He was referring to sex, of course. Their physical relationship had been off-the-charts intimate and passionate. So much so that having sex with him had been one of the best ways for her to rest before a big mission. She would sleep like the dead after intensive lovemaking.
“Yes, well, that was a long time ago.” Even as she said those words, her body was already reacting to the idea. No matter what happened, no matter the angry words and deeds between them, the very idea of this man’s touch created a heat within her that nothing could match. In her heart, she knew it would always be like that.
He sat on the side of the bed and said firmly, “Sleeping pills or the other. Your choice.”
Their eyes locked, and Olivia couldn’t look away. This was the man she had ached for every night for more than two years. This was this man who, despite everything, still owned her heart. This was the man she had vowed to love until death parted them. Even when she’d thought he was dead, she had never stopped loving him. And even though he’d crushed her heart, she still wanted him. Every night she would go to bed, aching for his touch, his mouth, his body covering hers.
Her heart thudding, her body flooding with a familiar throbbing desire, she said softly, “I don’t want the pills.”
Hunger flared in his eyes. He set the water glass and pills on the table and stood. Turning the lamp to its lowest setting, he began to strip. It was dark in the room, and she could barely make out the outline of his body. She wanted to tell him to turn the light back on—making love in the light had never been an issue for them. But her heart was beating so hard, she wasn’t even sure she could get the words out. They had made love thousands of times, but this time… This time seemed so different. Almost as if they were strangers.
Once he was nude, he began to work on her clothes. She didn’t offer to help him other than to shift to aid him in removing her shirt and bra and lifting her legs for him to slide her pants and underwear off.
When they were both nude, she scooted over to allow him room to lie beside her. It wasn’t necessary. He straddled her hips and, propping himself on his arms, hovered over her. She looked up at him, wishing she could see his face, his beautiful eyes. Her breathing increased, and her entire body filled with warmth, softening everything within her, preparing for him. At the same time, her heart raced frantically. She didn’t know why she was nervous. This was Nic, her husband, her lover. The man she had pledged her heart and her body to years ago. This part used to be as natural as breathing.
For some reason, she felt the need to say, “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
He froze for a second and then answered quietly, “Neither have I.”
Relief flooded her, and tears sprang to her eyes. The words were a balm to her bruised heart. She raised her hand to touch his face, but he stopped her. Taking both her wrists, he pulled her arms above her head and wrapped her hands around the railing of the headboard.
“What are you doing?”
“Living out a fantasy I’ve had for two and a half years.”
“Of what?”
“Of making love to my beautiful wife.”
He kissed her softly, his mouth moved over her face, gently, like a whisper. Olivia chased his mouth, groaning, needing more. She wanted his fiery kisses, to feel the insatiable desire that had always defined their lovemaking. Passion, bright and burning, would incinerate them, until nothing was left but two creatures writhing in pleasure, giving their all to each other.
“Nic…please. I need…”
“Patience, my love.”