Millie hesitated. She knew she should remind him about the no-talking rule, but it seemed kind of pointless to keep at it now. She didn’t even want to. She could still control what she told him. ‘Life happened,’ she said. ‘I got too busy and drawing seemed kind of a silly pastime.’ And totally out of sync with her and Rob’s focused, career-driven lives.
‘And then you finally took a holiday and thought you might like to try again?’
‘Basically.’
‘So why did you throw out the paints when I first met you?’
‘All these questions,’ Millie said lightly. ‘You are so violating our agreement, Chase.’
‘But you’re answering them,’ he pointed out. ‘For once.’
She didn’t speak for a moment, just sketched faster and faster, the feel and look of him emerging from her charcoal. ‘I didn’t like how obvious it seemed,’ she finally said. ‘Like I was trying to find myself or something.’
‘Were you?’
She glanced up, the sketch book momentarily forgotten. ‘I’m not lost,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m not broken.’
‘You’re not?’ He still spoke mildly, yet she felt that spurt of rage anyway. Her fingers tightened around the charcoal.
‘No.’
‘Because I think you are.’
Shock had her fingers slackening again, and the charcoal fell to the ground. ‘How dare—?’
‘Why do you think you’re here, Millie?’ He turned to gaze at her and she saw a blaze of emotion lighting his eyes. ‘Why do you think you were willing to have this crazy, intense week? And not just willing, but needing it?’
‘I don’t need it.’
‘Liar.’
She shook her head, hating that he saw through her. Hating that she didn’t have the strength to deny it any longer. She was lost. Broken. And she needed this week with him; she needed him.
And he knew it.
He kept his gaze on her, assessing, knowing, and she hated that too. The raw honesty between them in this moment felt more exposing and intimate than lying naked on a bed with him had yesterday.
She reached for the dropped charcoal, her fingers closing around it even though she knew she wouldn’t draw any more. She couldn’t. She stared blindly at the sketch pad, her mind spinning, her heart thudding.
‘Our session is finished, I presume?’ Chase drawled, and Millie nodded jerkily. ‘And now you’re going to go all haughty on me, aren’t you? The Millie Lang armour goes up, and you get all scary and severe.’
‘You’re the one who calls me scary,’ Millie said through numb lips. Every instinct in her was telling her to run. Save herself, or as much of herself as she could. How had she let it get this far? Chase had been so clever at seducing her into an emotional intimacy she had never intended to give or reveal. Damn it, all she’d wanted was sex.
And they still hadn’t had it.
Maybe it was time to rectify that situation.
‘I’m not going to go scary on you,’ she told him, clutching her sketch pad to her chest. ‘But you did say I could decide what we did today, and now I’ve decided.’
‘And it’s not sketching?’ Chase still looked relaxed, still had his hands stretched out behind him like he was enjoying a nice morning in the sun.
‘No, it’s not.’ Her voice still rang out, strident, aggressive. It sounded strong, even if she didn’t feel it. ‘I’ll tell you what it is.’
‘I bet I could guess...’ Chase murmured and, furious that he still seemed to know her so well, she cut across him.
‘It’s sex. I want to have sex with you.’
Chase regarded her with lazy amusement, although he was far from feeling either lazy or amused. He knew Millie felt vulnerable and exposed, but damn it so did he. He hadn’t meant to say any of that. Lost? Broken? He could have been talking about himself. What the hell had he been thinking, getting that honest? That real?
He hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d just been acting on instinct, allowing the deep within him to call to the deep within her. And for a few charged seconds he knew they’d connected in a way that was far more powerful than anything they could do on a bed—or whatever surface they chose.
‘You want to have sex with me,’ Chase repeated. ‘Sometimes, Millie, you have a one-track mind.’
‘I’m serious, Chase. The whole reason we’re having this stupid fling is—’
‘Now our fling is stupid? I’m offended.’
‘You know what I mean. I started this because—’
‘You started it?’
‘Stop interrupting me!’
‘Because I’m the one who walked up to you on that beach, sweetheart. And asked you out.’
‘I’m the one who suggested we sleep together.’
‘I’ll concede that point, but that’s the only shot you’re going to call.’
She stared at him, her face white, her lips bloodless. What had scared her so much? The fact that he saw her need, or that she sensed his own? And how did she think sex was going to solve anything?
On second thought...
‘OK, Scary.’ Chase rose from the beach, turning his face so Millie didn’t see him grimace at the throbbing ache of his joints. It was getting worse. The new medication wasn’t helping as much as he’d hoped. Hell, he was as broken as she was. He just hid it better.
‘OK?’ she repeated uncertainly, the wind blowing her hair into tangles even as she clutched the sketch pad to her chest like it was a body shield.
‘OK, we’ll have sex. I think we’ve had a fair amount of anticipation, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ She sounded uncertain. He wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t expected him to agree—well, guess what? Sex was probably the only place where he could make her let go of that all-too-precious control. Break the barriers she surrounded herself with, force her to be exposed and empty; only then could she be covered and filled.
Is that what you really want?
Yes. Certainty blazed through him, surprising him. He didn’t know more than that, wouldn’t look farther. No more questions.
Time to act.
‘Come on,’ he said, and reached a hand down to her. She took it gingerly, her eyes so heartbreakingly wide, her teeth sunk deep into her lower lip.
‘Where are we going?’
‘I told you I prefer to make love on a bed, right?’
‘Yes...’
‘Cold feet?’ he jibed softly, knowing she’d rise to that easy bait.
‘No! Of course not!’
‘Of course not,’ he agreed. Yet her hand was icy-cold and her slender fingers felt like bird bones in his.
He led her back inside, through the house and then right to his bedroom door. Turned to her as he still held that icy, trembling hand. ‘You’re scared.’
She opened her mouth to deny it, then stopped. ‘Yes.’
‘You’re thinking too much.’
‘I know.’
‘I