Dark Tide by Gwyn McNamee

Author:Gwyn McNamee [McNamee, Gwyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gwyn McNamee

17

Rion

Sheets rustle behind me, and I take another long drag on my cigar, letting the smoke fill my lungs and the nicotine rush through my blood.

I didn't think she'd be awake this early. Dawn barely casts any light through the open window yet, but I've been up for hours. Or rather, I never really went to sleep. I couldn't. Not knowing what today is.

The mattress creaks slightly as Gabriella climbs from the bed. Her soft scent hits me first. The same warm, sweet smell I’ve been trying to lose myself in for the last few days while we've been in limbo just waiting for this damn meeting to happen.

It’s so easy to do that with her—forget the danger and the drama. Even though she’s been quiet, turning something over in her own head recently, she’s still one hundred percent refuge. When we come together, it’s like finding that shelter in the storm. That harbor in the rough seas.

I never thought I’d find that anywhere, least of all in a woman, and there’s too much going on in my life and head to consider what that might mean in terms of any future for us.

Right now, sitting here in the dark with a cigar and memories is the only plan. But Gabriella waking may throw a wrench in that. She shouldn’t be seeing me like this. No one should. Yet, I couldn’t send her away, even knowing what today would turn into.

I sense her behind me before her soft hand finds my shoulder and squeezes gently.

Fuck. Who knew such a simple touch could feel so fucking good?

She leans down and kisses the back of my neck, lightly brushing her lips across my skin. “I didn't know you smoked.”

I take another pull off the cigar. “I don't.”

Her fingertips drag along the myriad of ink on my arm, lingering for a second on the fresh scar there, and she slowly steps around me and kneels between my legs. “Then what are you doing up at five in the morning smoking a cigar?”

That's a very good question.

Though, one I'm not sure I want to answer. I opened the window to try to avoid waking her with the smell, but now she’s here, running her hand across my leg and staring up at me. I could drink down her bourbon eyes for eternity, but the true concern etched on her beautiful face sends a pang to my chest.

We’ve only grown closer each day we’ve spent together. Things have fallen into place, like this is the way it’s supposed to me—Gabriella and me.

The answer comes out before I have a chance to think about why I’m telling her. “It's tradition. I have one every year on this day.”

She considers me for a moment, her head tilting sideways, sending her long, dark, silky hair cascading over one shoulder. It only draws my attention to the fact that she’s still wearing that outfit—the one that almost gave me a fucking heart attack when she showed it to me last night.

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