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Excerpt from Until I Found You
“Morgan,” Cam’s steel-blade gaze softened. “I said. Thank you.” There was no attitude behind the words. He meant it. And that confused her more than anything that had gone before.
Her stomach did that uncomfortable tumbling again. She felt as if she’d passed a test. Gained his approval. But when had Cam’s good opinion become so important? And what would he think of her when he found she’d been lying to him? Keeping secrets?
Cam’s hand rested on the table. Close enough that she could brush it if she wanted and it would look like an accident. The long, clever fingers, absent of any adornment—not even a signet ring. The faint scar across three knuckles he’d told her he got from a fishhook when he was nine.
There was strength in those hands. There had to have been to fight and survive as he had on the bloody heights around Toulouse. Salamanca. Badajoz. And dozens of other battlefields through six long years. And yet those same hands could bring her to climax with the gentlest of touches. Play her body until she cried for release.
She shifted in her seat. Wished she had something as strong in her glass as Cam’s whiskey. She needed to get a hold of herself. Cam was just using her. Like he’d done last winter. Like he’d do again in a heartbeat. But she was ready this time. On her guard.
And there was no way in this world—or any other—that Cam was going to sneak his way back into her bed—or her life. They’d find Neuvarvaan. Restore it to the Fey and go their separate ways. Period.
She snatched another look at him, but this time he caught her. And she couldn’t look away. His face held a wistful, faraway expression but his eyes had grown dark as slate. A purpose in them lost to even her powers.
She threw herself to her feet. Left the table. Cam’s intense gaze boring into her back.
Distance, her final refuge. |
