Page 54 of The Villain

But she didn’t budge. Instead, she finishedthe story, not realizing it was my memory, too. “We were out here for forty-five minutes until he got it open.”

“Sounds like picking locks isn’t in his skill set.”

“I didn’t have the heart to tell him there was a spare key hidden under the flowerpot.” The left side of her lip curled into the same smile she’d had that night, and my gut tightened. She was so damn beautiful. Then. Now.Always.

And the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them—before I could think. “Maybe he knew and didn’t have the courage to tell you he didn’t want the night to end.”

Her breath caught, and my body snapped taut. That was my problem around Athena. I acted before I thought.I acted on what I felt—what I didn’t deserve to feel.

“Let’s go in,” I muttered, and because my brain still hadn’t caught up to my racing heart, my hand didn’t land on her shoulder to guide her inside but on her lower back. And once it was there, the only thing worse would’ve been to yank it away.

She shivered at my touch but, thankfully, didn’t say anything as we stepped over the threshold.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” she apologized instantly like she could see. “Everything has just been in chaos since I moved back, and I’m trying to get on my feet…”

The house was an obstacle course of furniture and boxes. Maybe some would’ve called the place a disaster, but all I saw was the disorder that came when someone started their entire life over.

Like the start of a puzzle when all the pieces are strewn over the table. They all belonged. They all had a place. They would all fit together as she figured out how her new life was going to look.

When I’d been here the other day, the first thing that struck me was how little the home had changed. All her mother’s furniture and decorations and photographs…it was all still there. A time capsule from the year I’d left…but then there was also all the evidence of the years that had gone by since. The boxes and boxes of the life I’d left her to—a life with a man who’d tried to kill her.

“You don’t need to explain,” I said, the house feeling different from being inside it with her.

My eyes roamed the familiar landscape. The yellow floral couches were tucked against blue wallpapered walls. Vibrant and vintage and homey all at the same time.

“Was this all your mom’s?” I fed into my persona like I didn’t know.

“Mm-hmm.”

Pictures of the two of them were interspersed with some of Athena’s artwork from high school. Sketches. And some of those watercolor paintings of the beach.

I jerked my head away, practically propelling her into the living room, where I’d found a box labeledInvoicesthe other day, but it hadn’t contained anything for Iverson.

“You have a box here for receipts, but I didn’t see anything for Iverson.” I thumbed through the handwritten papers again like I’d find something different; I didn’t put it past myself to have been so distracted by the memories that I missed what I was looking for.

When she didn’t respond, I looked up and found her standing in the center of the room, her fingers pressed to her mouth.

I was in front of her in a blink. “Are you alright?”

“There’s something…” She trailed off, lifting her hand and pulling my sunglasses off of her face.

“It’s okay?—”

“No, it’s not.” She huffed. “I’m trying to be patient with myself, but I feel like it’s right there—like the answer is right in front of me.” Her head tipped up, and I couldn’t help but stareinto her eyes. Like those twin blue pools were clear enough to wash all my sins clean. “It feels like there’s something right in front of me. Something I know—something I’ve known…” My jaw worked tighter with her every word. “Something familiar.” Her voicewent quieter. “The truth.”

Me.I was in front of her.Cloaked in all my lies.

“Athena…” I rasped, lust punching me in the gut when her tongue slid over her lips.

She stilled, and it was like we both realized how close we were at the exact same moment. My hands on the sides of her arms. Her head upturned. Our breaths colliding in the narrow passage between us.

Color rose in her cheeks—a bright, beautiful warning for what came out of her mouth next. “Dare…about the other night.”

Fuck.

“Don’t,” I begged. “Please.”

Pleasuring her—and myself—had been a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it swiftly severed the idea that I’d ever be able to want any other woman—a boon for someone who’d sworn himself to celibacy. But on the other hand, it cut me deeper every moment I had to be around her and keep my distance.

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