Page 39 of Whispers in the Dark
His eyes appear concerned, and he hesitates before taking a step, but then falters, looking at me.Are you sure you’re okay?
“I promise.” Playfully, I push at his side. “Go. But not before getting Alex a clean shirt.”
He nods, taking a step toward the closet to reach inside and retrieve an extra shirt before wrapping his fingers around the doorknob, ready to leave, but instead, pauses. With a swift step, he turns to me and slides his hand around my neck and leans down to press a kiss to my temple. Every cell in my body comes to life as my heart flutters wildly.
Pulling back, he regards me one last time before turning and exiting the door.
The second the door closes behind him, it’s like an eerie silence surrounds me. A chill skates over my arms, and not feeling like going outside to grab my sweatshirt, I open the closet door and find one of Mauro’s. Sliding my arms into the sleeves,I’m immediately enveloped in his smell—woods, leather…man. I close my eyes and lift the fabric to my nose, inhaling deeply before grabbing my bag and heading for the stairs. My fingers slide up the polished wood banister as I admire each hand-carved step with the bark still intact on the sides.
I’m not sure if I should go right or left, but knowing the mountains are to the left and it’s what Mauro would want to seek every night, I head that way, finding a door at the end of the hallway, slightly ajar. Stepping through the threshold, I immediately spot my bags beside the bed and then stop in my tracks.
“Wow,” I breathe as I take in the dark, tranquil space. A wall of windows surrounds the space, making you feel like you’re genuinely a part of the mountains. Lush, green plants are spaced throughout the room. Rich, brown velvet fabrics cover the ginormous bed. The pads of my fingers skim over the length of the luxurious duvet as I walk toward the window, staring outside.
A girl could get used to this life.
But this girl shouldn’t.
To my left, I see the door for the bathroom, and head over to inspect what I have to work with. No surprise, I’m met with another room surrounded by glass walls, black marble tiling, and the biggest tub I’ve ever seen just waiting for me to use.
My muscles loosen at the idea of slipping beneath the warm water with bubbles surrounding me. Maybe a glass of wine in my hand and only candles lit.
Sighing, I turn and face the bed. I had thought that when he asked me to move in, he would provide me with a guest room so he could continue to have his own space. I never envisioned us sharing a room. I roll in my bottom lip as I examine the mattress. Maybe this is his way of trying to help this all seem real. Even though it’s not.
Definitely not.
I start to go through my suitcases, fitting as many of my items as I can into the bottom drawer of his dresser so I don’t take up too much of his space. I’m sure my being here isn’t easy for him. And I’m grateful for what he’s doing and don’t want to become a burden on him.
I don’t see any shelves for my books, so I opt to keep them inside a suitcase and shove them toward the far corner out of view.
I peer down at the bed, wondering what side I should sleep on. Getting closer, I inspect for any indication of what side he sleeps on when his enticing smell radiates from the pillow closest to me. Which means I’ll be taking the side farthest from the door.
Reaching inside my bag, I pull out my vibrator and tuck it into the back of the nightstand drawer, keeping it there for a rainy day.
And that’s when it hits me.
We’re not just going to be sharing a bedroom. We’re going to be sharing abed.
My heart thuds beneath my rib cage as I stare at the bed in a whole new light. It’s enormous with plenty of space for both of us. But I’ve never shared a bed with someone before. Especially someone I’m not“sleeping”with.
I sit on the edge, running my fingers through my hair. “What did I get myself into?”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, instantly recognizing the unknown number.
Reluctantly, I answer it. “Hello?”
“I need an update,” he states, his tone so eerily calm it unnerves me.
“I did it,” I breathe. “I got married a week ago.”
“Ah, such a good little sister you are.” My stomach recoils. “And who is the lucky groom?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not in the slightest. Merely curious which poor sucker you roped into this.”
I look over at Mauro’s side of the bed and say, “Mauro Alarie.”
Silence passes through the line.
