Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara froze, words caught in her throat. She couldn't meet his eyes. After a long pause, she finally managed, “I didn't mean to bring him up in front of you."

It wasn't about showing off how much she loved Z. Honestly, she never even said the word "love" out loud. It felt too serious, too heavy-like it would turn her feelings into someone else's hope or expectation, and that was just too much pressure. She'd rather avoid it entirely.

Most of the time, she didn't mention Z at all. But if she caught even the faintest glimpse of something that reminded her of him, she'd follow it without thinking.

She never needed to spell out how much she cared. The fact that she kept chasing after those shadows said it all.

Clara dropped her gaze and tried to slip past him toward the bed. Tomorrow, she'd have to face the Fergusons with him, and she needed whatever sleep she could get.

Suddenly, his hand shot out, stopping her in her tracks.

She thought he was about to say something, so she glanced up, ready to ask. Instead, he pulled her into his arms-fast, insistent, like he couldn't help himself.

She tensed, expecting him to steal another kiss. But he didn't. He just held her, arms wound tight around her like he was afraid she might disappear.

Clara's first instinct was to push him away, but then she felt how tense he was, every muscle drawn tight. Her hand dropped to her side.

His forehead pressed against her neck, his breathing harsh and uneven, like something inside him had broken open.

For a second, she worried he might actually pass out.

But he didn't. He just stayed there, forehead buried in her neck, then whispered, voice rough, "I regret it."

Regret for what he'd done for killing that man.

Regret for having to spend the rest of his life hiding the truth, for having to

swallow back everything he felt, just to keep it all together.

Every part of him was screaming for her, needing her close. Even hugging her like this wasn't enough-it only made him ache more.

His chest rose and fell sharply, arms so tight around her she could barely breathe. Clara had no idea what she'd said to set him off like this.

Was he having one of his episodes? Did he need his meds?

She reached up and patted his back, almost automatically.

Then his mouth was on her neck-hot, desperate, almost frantic.

Clara's fingers froze. She wanted push him away, but his need washed over her, and beforenoveldrama

knew it, she'd fallen backwards onto the little bed.

He didn't force her-just followed her down, their noses almost touching. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto her cheek.

"You..."

She wanted to ask if he was okay, if something was wrong.

But his lips barely brushed hers, not quite a kiss, as he murmured, "Will you...kiss me?"

Clara went still. He said it, then turned his head away, showing her only his profile.

The light in the room was just right

she could see everything-the wavet

his

Shes trembled, the sheen of

sweat on his brow.

She pressed her lips together, then quietly whispered, "Sorry."

He didn't answer. His lashes fluttered, then he gently pulled up the blanket to cover her.

Suddenly, the silence was too much. It felt like she'd done something terrible.

She

pled the blanket, sat up fast,

à quick kiss to the e

his mouth, and then flopped back

down, turning her back to him.

The whole thing took maybe two seconds.

"All right, time to sleep," she said, a little too briskly. Tomorrow was going to be rough.

He touched his lips, something bright flickering in his eyes. "Okay."

Clara felt restless, a knot of nerves she couldn't untangle.

She knew she shouldn't act like this, but she couldn't stop herself.

God, it was exhausting.