Page 185 of Dark Night of the Soul

A faint breeze ruffled the fig tree in the corner, leaves thinning with the season. I could tell by the angle of the sun it was getting late in the year. There was a winter bite to the breeze that rolled through the courtyard. September? October? Time was still a blur.

His steps were slow as he made his way to the fountain. The ledge was wide enough to sit. He eased himself down with an exhale that tried to pass for casual. It didn’t. Like that much movement was exhausting. But he’d never admit it.

“Don’t hover, Anna. Sit.”

I sat. My fingers twitched in my lap, useless with restraint.

The concrete ledge was cool underneath me. The fountain burbled behind us—absurdly peaceful. The villa courtyard smelled like citrus and old stone, too beautiful for a place we were using as a hideout. But the sun was warm on my face. And for a moment, I forgot where I was. I closed my eyes, tipped my head back to feel it on my cheeks.

He shifted next to me, then his hand slid to the back of my neck. His breath whispered over my face.

“There. See?”

I forgot to breathe for a second.

“See what?”

His thumb brushed my neck. “That you can let go.”

This was new.

Which was a problem, because I didn’t have a plan for new Kincade. And I always had a plan.

“Are you flirting with me?” I kept my hands in my lap like they couldn’t be trusted.

“Yes.”

“Should you be? Feels dangerous.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “You’re dangerous.”

My laugh came out too breathless. Like my body didn’t know which emergency we were in.

I wanted to say something back—something smart, something that didn’t sound like I’d been hit in the head again—but my brain stopped producing coherent thoughts. My pulse had opinions, though. Loud ones.

“I like you like this.” His voice was low at my ear, and my skin lit up like it had been waiting.

“Like what?” I seriously couldn’t think straight.

“Not braced for impact.”

He’d noticed that, too.

“Oh. Well…”

That was as far as I got before his mouth skimmed the edge of my ear. Barely there, enough to make my breath catch. He knew what he was doing. Then he kissed the spot behind my earlobe that short-circuited my entire nervous system. And, luckily, that cold place in my brain decided to play nice for once.

I went still. Hands clenched in my lap like they couldn’t be trusted.

“You should stop before—” I said, and it came out thin.

“Too late for that.”

“I think you’re the dangerous one here.” Trying to regain some semblance of control. Failed.

“For certain,” he murmured, like it was a fact, not a flirt.

What was he doing? Torturing both of us for fun? We both knew this wasn’t going any further. Not with him healing.