Page 42 of The Forbidden Note

It’s safe in his arms. Warm.

But Zane releases me without a fight.

I roll to the bottom of the coffin, lying next to him. Awkwardness teases the air between us. The silence stretches on.

“Get Dutch on the phone. Ask him to call the funeral home and get someone to help us.”

“Good idea.” Zane takes out his cell phone. The moment he turns it on, I flinch. The light from the screen is extremely bright. My eyes adjust and I can see what I couldn’t before. Creepy white lining. A glossy wooden coffin.

We’re two dead bodies about to be buried.

My stomach roils.

I hear my breath escaping quicker and quicker.

Just as I’m about to fall into panic again, a hand descends over my eyes, blocking out the light. Callouses scrape my cheek and a hard palm grazes my sensitive lips.

Thrown into darkness, I angle toward Zane. “What are you doing?”

His voice is low, rough, but in a comforting sort of way. The heat threaded within traces like expensive velvet across my heart. “Don’t look if it scares you.”

I nod.

“Close your eyes, tiger.”

My heart flips in my chest.

“Are they closed?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and nod again.

He removes his hand. Zane’s cell phone beeps as he dials the number.

A moment later, I hear his twin pick up.

“Dutch,” Zane grunts, “call the funeral parlor. Tell them to send someone to the show room.” His voice rumbles close to my ear. “No, I’m not going to tell you why. Just call the freaking parlor and tell them to look for us.”

He hangs up.

“What did Dutch say?” I ask.

“He’ll call them.”

“Good.”

I feel Zane turn his head. The length of his arm is pressed against mine, which makes it easy to sense when he’s moving.

“Do you have any other phobias?” he asks.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’m curious about you.” A moment later, I feel the muscular planes of his chest. His hot, hard body is flush against mine. He must have turned over on his side to face me.

My heart pounds harder and lodges in my throat.

I exhale to calm down. “Don’t be.”

His silence is sharp.