At lunchtime, she armed herself with green tea and another tub of ice cream, and went in search of Kit.
Chapter Fifteen
“I know you’re in there.” Evie stood on the doorstep of Rose Cottage, peering through the letterbox at a marginally improved view of the hallway since her last visit, although there were still cables hanging out of the walls. There were no builders on the roof today.
Abandoning the notion of politeness, she went round the back of the house and climbed through the sash window into the kitchen. Kit sat hunched on a window ledge in the rear bedroom. “What do you want?” he asked.
“Sorry.” She waved a thermos of freshly brewed tea and the ice cream tub at him.
His jaw remained set, lips tightly pursed. Then the tiniest flicker of a smile quirked the edge of his mouth. He took a slug of tea. “Spoon?”
Evie pulled a teaspoon out of her purse, polished it on her sleeve and handed it over. “Did you sleep here?” She threw a glance at the horrid iron-framed bed that sat in the centre of the room. It looked as if it’d done time on the set of a Hammer horror film or three.
Kit dug the spoon into the ice cream, turning it upside down in his mouth to lick it clean. “Can’t say I did much sleeping. The ceiling’s got a ton of cracks in it.”
“The bed at home is too big without you. I’ve got used to snuggling and Ross won’t unless you force him to. He thinks I can see into his head or something, if we’re touching.”
“Can you?”
“No more than you can see into mine.”
“How’d you know I can’t?”
“Because you haven’t jumped me yet.” The notion of Kit having psychic abilities made her more nervous than it ought. He might not be able to read her every thought, but Kit was damned good at interpreting her physical responses. Considering how little time they’d known one another, he had a remarkably good grasp of how to push her and when. As for his responsiveness between the sheets, well, she could almost believe there was a supernatural ability involved.
“Maybe I just like stringing you along.” Kit loaded the spoon and held it out towards her. When she stretched forward to lap it up, he jerked the spoon away from her lips, and held it just a fraction out of reach. “Ross tell you all about it, did he? About how screwed up with guilt I am.”
“He explained your side, yes. It seemed only fair after Molly had given me hers.” And planted all those doubts, she might have added.
“I don’t actually want to talk about it. I’d rather talk about you, and whether you’re prepared to share a story with me yet.”
Considering how much she’d learned about him now, she could hardly deny him a little of herself. Still, there was a part of her that wanted to flee the notion of exposing her innermost thoughts. She’d gone over and over the tale she’d constructed for him the previous day while eating her porridge, but it had seemed flat. Besides, it was a lie, and barely stirred her to mild interest. It would impress Kit even less. It’d probably set him yawning after a minute and a half. Instead, she’d have to share something deeply personal and hope he’d understand. Hell, she’d even come prepared with props.
“Evie?” His fingers trembled, causing the laden spoon to shake.
She closed her hand around his wrist and held him still as she devoured the ice cream. The cold raised tingles as it slid down her throat, an excitement that further sparked at the heat in his gaze as she wiped the smear of dessert from her lips. “Maybe.” She hedged her bets. “Or rather, I don’t have a story. My sex life was boring in the past. But you said a fantasy would be okay.”
“I did.”
They both stood so still for a moment that she could hear their breathing, two discordant whispers in the echoey room. Exposing herself like this just didn’t come easy. She’d follow someone’s lead, be expressive in the heat of the moment, but talking things over like this simply filled her with shame. She’d sound foolish…perverse…really darned perverse. He might laugh, or worse—be horrified.
“Go on,” he prompted. “Or should we get comfortable first?” As he ogled the bed, a grin transformed his sullen visage back into that of the warm and loving man she’d let into her relationship. Molly’s accusations had never really broken her trust in him. They’d just planted seeds for doubt, which she’d stupidly allowed to grow.
Eschewing the bed, she remained by the window. “It’s a bit sad…tacky, maybe.”
“Let me be the judge. Just tell me.”
Evie swallowed deeply. “It’s after dark, and I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be.”
“What sort of somewhere?” It was like a magic switch. Suddenly, Kit was alive again. His dark eyes glowed with curiosity as he unfolded his legs from the window ledge and set his feet upon the floor.
“An old building. I get caught. There’s this man.” She closed her eyes falling into the scene: an ill-lit corridor with a slippery, highly polished parquet floor. Dressers stood at regular intervals, housing silver cups and rows of gleaming trophies. “He’s older than me, and scary, but he’s beautiful too. Refined, and yet at the same time wild underneath. He’s furious when he finds me walking about and he grabs me by the wrist.” She locked her own fingers around her lower arm and squeezed so that the flesh ached. “He drags me to this other room. A classroom.”
She paused, waiting for Kit to snort at the admission. School fantasies, especially finishing school were so passé. She’d been telling herself that for long enough. Unfortunately, attempting to deny its power only seemed to increase the taboo appeal of it, in much the same way that any sort of denying herself something made her lust after it.
But this wasn’t just about being naughty. It was about wanting what was wrong and exposing herself.
“All the other girls are there,” she continued.
