Guess its this way, he said, and took her elbow to steer her to the right as they got off the elevator. They walked side by side down the silent hallway, not looking at each other, looking at the numbers on the doors they passed.
Guess its this way, he said, and took her elbow to steer her to the right as they got off the elevator. They walked side by side down the silent hallway, not looking at each other, looking at the numbers on the doors they passed.
Here we are, he said, stopping at the first of the two rooms. He fished the plastic room keys out of his pocket, selected one. You take this one-Ill be in the next one down. He unlocked the door, pushed it open, stepped inside. A light had been left burning over the desk. He looked around, out of habit, mostly. Satisfied the place was secure, he handed Lindsey her key. Looks okay. Wellhave a good night-see you in the morning.
He paused, and she nodded. He turned and headed for the door, knowing he should ask her if she needed anything. If she was going to be okay. He didnt, probably because he was afraid of what her answer would be. And because he didnt trust his own response. Coward. The voice inside his head was so strident, for a moment he actually hesitated, wondering if it could have been spoken out loud, not just in his own mind. He glanced back at her, but she was standing exactly as hed left her, pupils so dilated in the dim light that her eyes looked like black holes in a white mask. He went out and shut the door firmly behind him.
In his own room, he repeated the automatic check, then crossed to the closed curtains and opened them onto the vast darkness outside. He took off his jacket and draped it on the back of the chair in front of the desk, reached for his holster before he remembered he wasnt wearing it. He emptied his pockets onto the desktop-wallet, car keys, evidence bag with Kincaids DNA sample, some small change and the hotel key. He pulled his shirt off and was heading for the bathroom when the knock came.
His heart jolted, but not as hard as it should have, and he realized hed been waiting for the knock. Expecting it. Hoping for it?
Tossing his shirt onto the bed, he strode to the door, glanced briefly through the peephole, then opened it. Lindsey? he said.
She didnt look the way hed expected her to-although what that was, he couldnt have said. She lookedangry, he thought.
I hurt, she said. Her steady gaze seemed accusing.
I know, he said gently.
No-you dont. I dont think you do. I mean, it really hurts-here, and here, and here. Physically. She touched her face, her throat, her chest. It hurts so bad, I wish I could take aspirin or something for it, but I know it wouldnt help. She took a breath, a shallow one, as if even that hurt. He stood back and made way for her to come in, but she stayed where she was, glaring at him. I cant stop thinking about them.
Who? he asked, although he knew.
Them-all of them. My mother, my father, those two people in the wedding picture, Holt, Jimmy, my dad. I keep seeing their facestheyre in my head. And every time I see them, I hurt.
Empathy sucks, he said, nodding.
I cant seem to stop it. I justwantto make itstop.
Thats a dangerous frame of mind to be in.
She nodded, and a frown made lines between her brows. I know. I guess thats why people drink. Or take drugs. Or kill themselves.
Thats why my mother did. He hadnt known he was going to say that.
Her gaze didnt waver, and he wasnt sure shed heard him. He decided he hoped she hadnt. I wouldnt. But I thought of something else, and it seems to help.
Whats that?
She snatched another breath, as if they were suddenly in critically short supply. I thought of you. And the pain got a lot better. So, I thought Id find out if seeing you in person would help even more.
And does it? he asked somberly, a quiver of tender laughter deep within his chest.
Yes. Finally, she walked past him and into the room. He closed the door, then turned to find her gazing at him, arms wrapped across her body, eyes fierce and bright. I keep thinking about how it felt when you held me the other day. Ive thought about it quite a lot, actually. I thought it felt very, very good.
Yes, Alan said. I thought so, too.
So, she said on another breath, maybe you wouldnt mind too much, holding me right now. She gave him only a split second, then rushed on. I know you think its a bad idea-I get that. I just want you to know I wont expect anything-
Hush, he said, and folded her into his arms.
But, after a small, faint gasp, she went on talking. Except tonight. I just need you to get me through this night. Please help me
Like the song says? he asked with a husky laugh.
She pulled back to stare at him. What song?
Help Me Make It Through The Night
Nestled once more against his chest, her laugh was a tiny whimper of sound. Oh. I was thinking of, Make The World Go Away.
I guess this probably beats the hell out of a bottle of Scotch, he said after a moment, when neither of them had moved.
Ive never been much of a drinker, she whispered, turning her face toward his. Me, neither.
What the hell, he thought as he took her mouth. It wasnt the first time hed known something was a bad idea and gone ahead and done it anyway.
She was glad when he turned the light off. Less glad that he didnt undress her. Leaving that choice up to her might have derailed the whole thing, if shed been less determined. Less desperate. But shed disengaged her thinking mind when shed left her room and gone to knock on his door, and it was without thinking that she took off her clothes in the kindly darkness and laid them neatly over the rooms only upholstered chair. She turned back toward him, and watched him in the faint light that leaked into the room from outside the uncurtained window, watched him tug the bedcovers back, then hold out his hand to her. She took it, and he drew her to the bed, then got in and held the covers open for her. Once again, leaving the choice up to her. She could come to himor not.
She felt her heart thumping with appalling force inside her chest. Moving in a dream, not thinking, she sat on the edge of the mattress and lay down beside him. The cool, crisp sheets settled over them both.
She lay in the darkness with the rain pulling a curtain of sound around them, shivering at first, curled tightly against him-this man she barely knew-with her fist nested in his chest hair, the thump-thump of his heart loud in her ear and her hand rising and falling with his slow, even breaths. She closed her eyes, and the images came and played through her mind like an old-time newsreel, the faces, one after the other: A lovely young girl, the bride and her groomlike children playing at a make-believe wedding. A little boy, laughing and fat in his snowsuit, throwing snow at his mother. Her mother and father-her daddy, the one she knew and adored-gazing at her with love and pride. Her mothers face as shed seen it last, haunted and terrifiedher dads face growing sadder and sadder by the day. Holt Kincaid, a grown man asking in a mans voice a childs question: Why?
The pain came and this time she didnt fight it but let it wash over her in waves and waves, and he-this hardened cop, this man she barely knew-stroked her gently, so gently, until gradually the pain subsided and the shivering stopped and her body grew heavy and supple, and unfurled along his side the way a flower opens in the sun.
I should have known youd be so gentle, she whispered. So kind. You are a kind, gentle man, Detective Cameron.
He gave a snort of laughter and growled, Thats just what every homicide cop wants to hear.
Im sorry. Its true, though.
How do you know? You dont know me that well.
Maybe not well, but I know that. I saw it that first day I met you, you know-the way you were with my mother.
He didnt reply, and after a moment she added, I knew that you wouldnt turn me away, even if you do think you shouldnt-
Hush, he said for the second time, and raised himself so that he loomed above her, big and solid in the darkness. His head swooped down, blotting out what light there was, and his mouth found hers unerringly.
She gave a gasp and sank into it-the sheer pleasure of being kissed, held, stroked. Sank into it as she would a hot tub, sighing with the pure sensual pleasure.
After a while-she lost all track of time-he lifted his head and said in a soft growl, Maybe Im not all that kind. Maybe I just want to make love to you. Did you ever think of that?
She laughed, and just as softly growled back, Thats okay, too. Make love to me, then.
Her eyes closed and she didnt notice or care; her body was doing what it wanted, with no direction from her thinking mind. She felt his lips brush her eyelidshis hands cradle her head while his thumbs stroked her cheeksso lightly, so tenderly.
And it was the tenderness that was her undoing.
Prickles washed through her body in a stinging shower, a wave of longing that caught her unawares. It was pain, yes, but different from the other, the pain that had weighed her down and brought her to this almost-strangers bed in the dead of night. This was bright and breathtaking, and she let herself be carried on it, into a realm of fantasyof possibilityof what if?
What if this wasnt just for tonight, but for always?
What if it wasnt just making love, but love?
What if I love him?
What if he could love me?
What if he does?
So easily, the lines between fantasy and reality blurred and ran, like watercolors in the rain. She felt as if shed always known him, this man who held her and touched her so tenderly. His hands seemed to know her body better than she did. His mouth, his fingers, his body came into her most intimate places, not as explorers, but as loved ones welcomed home.
She felt safe in his hands. Beyond the gentleness, there was strength in this man. How did she know that? It wasnt something she asked herself, then, her mind having disengaged from her body. It was just something her body knew. She was safe in his hands.
Make love to me, she whispered, not even remembering shed already said it.
He didnt reply with words, but simply did as she asked.