Page 87 of Last Summer

“What about the investigation?”

“You’re more important. I was going to call the authorities.” His expression is pained. “You weren’t answering my calls.”

Shamefully, she ignored them. He’d hear her voice and then he’d know. She betrayed him.

Tears well and then spill over. The guilt that was absent when she followed Nathan to Alaska, joined him in his bed, and started feelingsomethingfor him arrives with a vengeance. It claws to the surface, digging and scratching. This must be how Grace’s father felt when he confessed his affair to her mother. And in this moment, she can understand why he did it. It’s suffocating.

“Ella.” He speaks her name with reverence.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stutters, her lungs shuttering on the exhale.

She drops her luggage. He drops his phone. Then Damien has her in his arms and his mouth is on hers. He threads both hands in her hair and cradles her head. He kisses her. A possessive, powerful, breath-stealing kiss. Words are impossible. Her confession disappears in a muffled whimper.

Damien’s hands move to her hips and his fingers dig into her flesh. He keeps her flush against him and they do what they do best when there’s too much to say and they don’t know how to say it. They fuck. Rough, angry sex. Against the wall. Bent over the couch. In the middle of their California king, where their bodies mellow into tender lovemaking. Until finally, in the golden hours of dawn, they crash into slumber, limbs entwined.

CHAPTER 27

Three Years Ago

“What an epic day,” Ella said, following Damien into their suite. California had been in its fourth year of drought and the mountains were dry. Damien had surprised her with a spontaneous trip to Vail. It was their first Thanksgiving holiday together and Ella was more than fine with getting out of the city. Anything so that they wouldn’t have to celebrate the gluttonous holiday.

“I haven’t skied on snow like this for years.” Damien took Ella’s boots from her hands and set them on the floor beside their skis that he’d carried up to the room.

“Where should we go for dinner?” Ella asked, shedding her jacket. She tossed it on the bed along with her knit cap and ski gloves.

“I thought we’d order in.” Damien slowly unzipped Ella’s hoodie and skimmed the backs of his fingers down her sternum. Ella’s breath caught. “You know, just the two of us, some candlelight, a nice bottle of Zin.” His hand trailed lower and cupped her breast.

“Sounds heavenly,” Ella said, leaning into him. There was a two-person tub in the bathroom. They’d skied hard today. Her legs felt like jelly. She could use a good soak. And a good fuck, she realized as Damien’s hand dipped below the waist of her ski pants.

But a knock on the door shattered the moment.

“Later,” Damien promised, pressing a teasing kiss against her lips.

“Who’s here?”

“Room service.”

“Dinner already? When did you order?”

He just smiled and opened the door. A young man in the black-and-white hotel staff uniform wheeled in a cart. Ella saw a bottle of wine, glasses, and four metal domes.

“Where to, sir?” the attendant asked.

“By the window. We can watch the snow fall,” Damien said, looking at Ella, then frowning when he caught her expression. He came over to stand by her.

“Everything all right?” he asked, his voice just loud enough for her to hear.

Ella slowly shook her head. She held a hand to her throat, just above the knot she was having trouble swallowing past. She’d caught a whiff of the food under the domes when the cart wheeled by.

“Would you like me to uncork the wine?” The attendant spoke quietly.

“No, I’ll do it,” Damien answered, not taking his eyes off her. “Talk to me, El. You don’t look well.”

“Of course, sir.” The attendant removed the domes and Ella peeked over Damien’s shoulder to see. On the table was a small roasted turkey, barely larger than a chicken, and all the dressings that came with a Thanksgiving meal at a five-star resort hotel. Mashed potatoes and savory gravy, cranberry relish, string beans with caramelized onions, and an assortment of root vegetables: parsnips, carrots, and sweet potatoes. Damien had gone all out. Steam rose from the plates and the smell of roasted turkey overwhelmed Ella. Warm, juicy, and nasty.

Her stomach roiled and she gagged. Cupping a hand over her mouth, Ella ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet. What had to be less than a minute later, Ella heard the hotel suite door close, then felt Damien’s presence in the bathroom. He knelt beside her. His strong hands gently scooped her hair, holding it away from her face.

Ella’s stomach had emptied and her throat was raw. She felt like she’d been run over by a snowplow.

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