Page 96 of Leave a Mark
Wren swallowed and took a step toward him. He didn’t make her come any closer because he was off the car and on her in the next instant. The crush of his lips against hers and the greedy way he held her face told her just as much as his words, demanding from her every reassurance that she was with him.
And she wanted to be with him. She wanted it more than anything.
She gave as good as she got, but, in the end, Wren pulled away first. Because wanting to be right for Lee andbeingright for Lee were two different things. She pressed against his chest to move out of his arms, but he tightened them around her.
“I’m letting you go right now, but you’re going to have to tell me eventually.”
“Tell you what?” Wren managed, stuffing the fear down her own throat and giving him her toughest tone.
“You know what.”
“Goodnight, Lee.”
He loosened his hold and moved his hands to her elbows. “Call me when you get home.”
“I don’t—”
His grip tightened. “Call me when you get home so I know you’re all right, and I can get some sleep.”
She let go a sigh. “Fine.”
He pulled her close again and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, beautiful Wren.”
And then he stepped back and opened her door for her. Feeling every inch a loser, Wren sunk into her driver’s seat, started the Mustang, and drove home.
Agnes met her at the door, mewling insistently, so Wren locked up and fed her cat. While Agnes ate, Wren leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at her phone.
If she called Lee, he’d want to talk. She loved talking on the phone with him, but he was too good at reading her. A shudder rolled off her shoulders as she thought of his questions. Better to text.
Wren:I’m home. Get some sleep.
She set the phone down on her counter.
Nothing happened. No call. No text. Maybe she was safe for the night.
It was ridiculously early, but Wren wanted to crawl into bed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, but she might be able to work on a tattoo design and escape her thoughts. Wren went to her bathroom, took out her contacts, and washed her face. She put on her glasses and avoided the coward who looked back at her in the mirror.
In her bedroom, she found her white, cotton, shift nightgown. It was sleeveless and timeless, and it would breathe around her. Wren stripped down to her panties and pulled it on, sighing as it fell over her skin, cool and loose. Sitting in bed with her sketchbook and Agnes was exactly what she needed.
She went through her apartment, gathering her book and her pens and begrudgingly picking up her phone on the way back to her room.
No calls. No texts.
This surprised her, but maybe Lee had seen that she’d gotten home and let himself go to sleep.
“The thought of not seeing you until Thursday or even Friday physically hurts.”
The memory of those words sent a tickle down her spine. Climbing into bed and settling against her mountain of pillows, she shook off the sensation. It was only a matter of time.
Every day, she’d expected him to do a double-take, shake his head, and say,“What the hell was I thinking?”
And when that happened, what would happen to her?
Shoving that unwelcome thought aside, Wren flipped through the camera roll on her phone. She had yet to attempt to sketch any of the egrets from their kayak trip. The fourth image in the album caught her eye. The feathers of the male egret’s breeding plumage were sharp and focused, and his neck held a striking curve that captured his grace and beauty.
Beginning with his face, she attempted to capture the far-off look in his golden eye before moving to the grand feathers at the back of his head. Was he seeking his mate? Beckoning the right one to come to him?
“You are perfect for me. In every way.”
