Page 100 of Dagger in the Sea

“I mean them or I wouldn’t say them.”

I believed him.

He wiped a hand down the side of my face. “It’s all right. Let me get you some water.” Turo got up and went back into the room, to the small fridge. I pulled my trousers back on and he returned with a small bottle of water he’d uncapped, and I drank.

He fingered the ends of my hair, smoothing it over my shoulder. “I don’t ever want you to be uncomfortable. Especially because of me.”

I brought up my hand. “I wanted you to go far. I did. I like you very much. Very, very much.” I took in a deep breath to release the tension, the heat of embarrassment, but it didn’t work. His tender thoughtfulness was making me tense again, because I felt awful. Because I was twisted with regrets at not being able to embrace what he’d offered me after I’d invited him to it. To embrace him.

“Is it Alessio?” His eyes hardened like gleaming gemstones. “Have you talked to him? Has he threatened you or done something to make you afraid? Is there something you’re not telling me about the two of you?”

Turo, the problem solver. He wanted an immediate analysis, black and white data, so he could find the solution and resolve the issue. He knew a piece was missing. He knew, and he cared.

But I couldn’t tell him now. Not now.

I shook my head. “No, it’s not Alessio. Nothing like that. I’ve told you everything about him and me.” I chugged another mouthful of the cold water down my burning throat. Wiping at my lips, I squeezed a hand on his thigh. “Let me make it up to you—”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you to service me. Not like that.”

Service. The word cut straight through me.

“When you’re ready—” He put my hand over his bulging, stiff erection and rubbed. My eyes fluttered, my insides clenched with liquid heat. “—he’ll be ready for you. I want you on me because you can’t get enough of me, not because of some sense of polite obligation.”

He brushed my lips with his, a quick kiss on my forehead. “We both need sleep.” He tucked the blanket around my body. “And you have to drive us all over the island again tomorrow, my lovely Räikkönen.”

“You follow Formula 1?”

“Yes, why?”

“Not typical for an American, that’s all.”

“That’s me, not typical.”

“No, Turo, you’re not.”

He rubbed my leg over the blanket. “Can I hold you?”

My heart dipped. That he would say that to me after my having stopped him.

“Can I hold you?” fell from my mouth.

We stared at each other, neither of us sure what to say next. He took the water bottle and drank, draining it, tossing it on the table. Taking me in his arms, he lay next to me, curving his body around mine. I sank into his solid warmth, grateful for it, for him. My eyes closed, his steady heartbeat under my ear, setting my breath to its strong rhythm.

“The stars are so bright,” he murmured. “So many stars.”

Sleep sunk its teeth into me. Like Turo DeMarco had.

Silken fangs.

27

Turo

An icy hardnesshad me in its grip.

I gulped in air, but there was none to be had.

Laughter down a dark tunnel. Loud and shrill. What direction? Where?

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