Page 35 of Billionaire's Sins
He walks inside a door which I assume leads to his bedroom. My handbag slides from my arm to the floor. I slump back in the couch, swallow down the thickness that clogs my throat. That was close, like, really, really close… If Edward had been one second too late, if I had lurched forward a second earlier… If the car had been speeding even a little faster.... I gulp. My limbs tremble. Shivers ripple up my spine and I wrap my arms around my waist to stay warm.
"Here." His voice interrupts my thoughts, and I snap my eyelids open. He drops a cover over me, tucks it in under my chin. "Scoot over," he mutters.
I scoot in further and he sinks down next to me. He places a first-aid kit on the table, then opens it and pulls out some cotton and antiseptic. He takes my hand in his, turns my arm, pushes up the sleeve of my dress and dabs at the gash I only now notice. Pinpricks of pain spark at my nerve-endings, and another bout of shaking grips me.
"You okay?" He frowns.
"Y…yes." I say through chattering teeth. "D…don’t know what’s wrong."
"Delayed reaction," he reassures me as he continues to dab at the injured skin. He rips a packet open, pulls out the bandage and places it over the scrape. He takes my palm, turns it face up.
"Wh... what are you doing?" I whisper.
He doesn't respond. Simply pours out more antiseptic onto the cotton ball, then proceeds to dab it on my palm where the skin has abraded. I wince. Again, I hadn’t noticed it.
Guess I’d been too caught up in what was happening in the moment to realize I’d banged myself up. Another few seconds, and I might not be here on Edward’s sofa in his house.
OMG, I am in his house, on his couch, and he’s taking care of me. It’s what I wanted, right? So why am I so close to tears? Besides, I didn’t die. I am still here. I am alive and near him.
My entire body shudders and he frowns, then rises to his feet. He heads for a wooden cabinet in the corner, pulls out a bottle, and pours some of the liquid into a glass. When he returns, he sits down next to me again. He slides an arm under my neck, raises my head, and holds the glass to my lips. I stare into his handsome features. Those dark eyebrows, thick eyelashes, his dark hair messed up and falling over his forehead. He looks a little shaken, not as put together as all the times I’ve seen him in the past.
He jerks his chin at me, "Drink."
I take a sip and the alcohol burns its way down my throat. My stomach is suddenly on fire and I gasp. Tears prick my eyes and I blink them away.
"Again," he orders.
I hold his gaze, stare into those bright, beautiful eyes of his which glare at me with so much emotion that I gulp. He frowns, nods again to the glass, and I take another sip. This one goes down smoother. Warmth creeps under my skin; my breathing grows more ragged.
I wrap my fingers over where he holds the glass, and goosebumps rise on my skin.
His throat moves as he swallows and his gaze intensifies further. I take another sip, and another. I swallow down the liquid as heat permeates my cheeks, my chest, snakes down further. I squeeze my thighs together.
His nostrils flare. Those golden irises dilate. He stands abruptly, tosses back the remaining alcohol.
Then he walks back to the cabinet, pours another healthy dose of the whiskey, and tosses it back. Whoa. Are priests allowed to drink? Guess they are. I mean, they do drink wine during Communion, right? And why would he have whiskey in his house if he can’t drink?
I take in his tall figure; the broad shoulders clad in his customary black shirt tucked into black pants. The fabric molds to his slim hips, and clings to those powerful thighs. He’s not wearing his robe… Guess I caught him off-duty. Of all the churches in all the world, I had to walk into this one. I snicker to myself. What I wouldn’t give to meet him in a gin joint instead.
He jerks, as if the sound cut through his thoughts. He places the glass back on one of the shelves of the cabinet, then turns to me, "We need to talk."
14
Edward
She watches me with those big green eyes that seem to have swallowed up her face. Her features are drawn, there are shadows under her eyes, and her cheekbones seem too prominent. Has she lost weight since I last saw her? I frown, take a step toward her, then stop.What are you going to do? Are you going to go back to her? Sit next to her, take her hand in yours, place your palm against her cheek and feel the softness of her skin, draw in the sweet scent of jasmine that clings to her hair?I clasp my hands behind my back, then begin to pace. Back, forth, back.
She clears her throat, "Edward?"
I continue to pace.
"Ed? Please stop, you’re making me dizzy."
I pause, then pivot around and stalk over to her. I stand over her, rake my gaze down her face. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I snap. "You walked out onto that road without a modicum of self-preservation. What were you thinking, Ava?"
She pales further. Her lips tremble, and she presses them together.
"Edward, I, I…"
