Page 18

Carly

Taking one more look and smiling at Drew fast asleep in the bed, I quietly and carefully closed the bedroom door behind me. With my laptop in hand, I made my way to the small couch and switched on the lamp in order to see better. Settling into a comfortable position, I curled up on the sofa cushions of the couch and opened my laptop. Making certain I was alone by carefully looking around the area, I then turned and put on my glasses.

My vision wasn’t impaired. In fact, I could see perfectly well, contrary to what anyone might assume. I struggled to maintain a focus on the computer screen periodically, prompting my eye doctor to suggest reading glasses as a solution to prevent eyestrain.

Once I was comfortably situated on the couch, I accessed the hotel’s Wi-Fi network and began working. Although there remained a considerable amount of information that required investigation and resolution, I was slowly but steadily making progress.

I opened my email and began scanning the emails that I had received when I spotted one from an unknown sender.

Curious, I opened it and read.

I’m watching you.

I wonder what the world will think when I tell them who you really are. Run away, little girl, for there is no place you can hide.

With my eyes fixated on the screen, I carefully set my laptop onto the small coffee table, my heart pounding rapidly against my ribs as I stood up. With a shiver of fear that sent a ripple of coldness down my spine, I hugged myself tightly and surveyed the hotel room, my eyes darting around in search of something—anything—to ease my growing apprehension.

Someone was watching me.

They knew who I was.

In a rush of impulsive action, I ran to Christian’s door, rapping gently before pushing it open, only to find his three girls nestled together in slumber within the enormous bed. Searching his room, I couldn’t see him anywhere. Then, the bathroom door opened. Walking out of the bathroom, steam enveloped him and a white towel hung low on his hips, presenting me with a flawless view of his muscular physique.

Holy shit.

He looked like a fucking billboard underwear model. Tanned skin, toned muscles, and abs that dipped and rolled like the valley to Valhalla. The man was beautiful.

If a man could be called that.

But what really captured my attention was the decorative tattoos that traversed his torso and arms.

The man was a walking piece of art.

“Carly?”

Blinking several times, I snapped out of my daze and quickly backed away, closing the door as I sputtered, “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Rushing back into the living room, I had just closed and gathered my laptop when I heard him behind me.

“What’s wrong?”

Turning, he stood there, wearing low hanging jogging pants that did absolutely nothing to hide anything. Quickly looking elsewhere, I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” he replied, walking over to me. “Did you need something?”

Refusing to look at the man, my eyes focused on the pattern on the couch, which I found rather interesting. I wondered if the design was indicative of the Renaissance or something more modern.

Stepping closer to me, he took my computer away from me, dropping it on the couch, before I felt his fingers lightly turn my face toward his.

“Carly, I’m gonna need you to breathe.”

“And I’m gonna need you to put on a shirt.”

Smirking, he asked, “Is there something wrong with my appearance?”

All I could do was nod vigorously. Or did I shake my head?

I couldn’t remember.

What did he say?

Grinning, he took a step back and turned around as my eyes landed on a full back tattoo. I tried not to look at the brand on his back, but I couldn’t stop myself.

It covered his whole back.

The Soulless Sinner.

A shrouded skeleton, holding a cross in its hands. The head bowed as if praying, as it stood over mounds of skulls. Ghostly souls floated around the Sinner. It was a remarkable piece. Beautifully done. Whoever tattooed his back was a damn fine artist.

“Did that hurt?” I whispered, my fingers itching to touch it.

Turning back around, he shook his head. “No.”

“Who did it?”

He moved closer to me and whispered, “A woman named Venom.”

“She did a beautiful job.”

“Yes, she did,” he agreed, stepping closer to me again.

Gently lifting my chin, so I was forced to look into his smoldering blue eyes, his lustrous deep timbered voice melted everything around me. “You didn’t come into my room to talk about my tattoos.”

Gulping, I croaked, “No.”

“Can you tell me why then?” He leaned in close, his other hand carefully removing my glasses as his breath whispered across my cheek, like tendrils of silk caressing my skin.

“I... I...”

“Yeah, I don’t care,” I barely heard him say as he pulled me close, his muscular frame pressed against mine, and with a searing kiss, he stole my breath and ignited a fire within me.

My head spun as I grasped onto him desperately. He drew me closer, his tongue pushing for access into my mouth. The way he kissed me was so intense, so uninhibited, like a wild, erotic dance. I couldn’t help it as he swept me away with his seductive power.

“Daddy?”

Like a scalded cat, Christian jumped away from me. Not bothering to look at me, he hurried over to his daughter. Kneeling before her, he rubbed her arms and asked, “What’s the matter, Bri?”

“Andi took my blankie.”

Gathering her in his arms, he sighed. “Well, let’s go see if we can wrestle it away from her.”

Standing there, I watched as he disappeared into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He left me standing there, stunned and speechless, and although I waited and waited for his return, hoping he would come back, he never did. Having reached the end of my rope, I gathered my belongings and went to bed. I struggled and toiled, fighting against my racing thoughts while I tossed and turned, but sleep stubbornly refused to come, no matter how hard I tried. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of his touch sent a wave of goose bumps across my arms. I could still feel the heat of his kiss, the tender pressure of his hands, and the electric charge of his touch lingering on my skin.

A pale sun rose the next morning, its light doing little to dispel the trepidation in my heart. With each carefully chosen article of clothing, the anxious fluttering in my chest intensified. The smell of my freshly laundered clothes did little to soothe my racing heart as I anticipated his response—would he acknowledge what transpired, or would he act as if it never happened? Exiting the room, I found myself speechless, confronting what could only be described as cheerful morning chaos, combined with the delicious smells of breakfast wafting from the table, where he and the four kids were already eating.

I couldn’t bring it up now.

Not with the kids around.

And apparently, he felt the same way, because the only thing he mumbled to me, while pushing a plate of food toward me, was “Eat up.”

That’s it.

Nothing more.

He stayed silent when we loaded the kids back into the car, then got on the road. Inside the large SUV, the only sounds were the gentle drone of the engine and the faint audio of a movie playing through the children’s headphones. The absence of sound was a palpable thing, pressing against my eardrums, a tangible weight in the stillness. The rhythmic thump of the tires on the asphalt filled the car as he drove, while I sat in the passenger seat, completely silent.

My mind raced with a multitude of questions I yearned to pose to him; but his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel made it abundantly clear that he was not in a conversational state of mind. It was clear from his body language, from the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat to the barely contained restlessness radiating from him, that he intensely wished he was anywhere but here, in the car with me. With each passing moment of prolonged silence, a similar sense of apprehension began to creep into my own consciousness and mirror the growing tension in the vehicle.