Simon Says_. Walk (Kate Morgan #6)(77)
Author: Dale Mayer

 

“I have no idea, … but I don’t think so.”

 

“It has to be because that, … that doesn’t make any sense, Simon.”

 

“Maybe not,” he agreed, “but stuff does manifest, even if we don’t want it to.”

 

“Hell, I don’t want it to,” she declared. “That fucking terrifies me.”

 

He nodded, and feeling more alone than he ever had in his life, he slowly walked back to the bed and laid down, very close to the edge. He closed his eyes and in a weary tone said, “Just sleep. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

 

And he rolled over, pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and closed his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 20

 

 

 

 

 

Kate had every right to be terrified, but, as she stared at Simon’s still body on the bed, she realized that he wasn’t feeling any better. She groaned, walked over to his side of the bed, sat down, and wrapped herself around him. “I’m sorry. This shit never seems to calm down.”

 

He didn’t say anything, but he seemed to relax a little bit under her arm. She kissed him on the neck and whispered, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t saying you fucking terrify me,” she murmured. “I was saying this whole psychic stuff terrifies me.”

 

He shifted enough so that he could roll onto his back and look at her, and she saw the hurt, the pain, in his eyes. She made a muffled sound and buried her face against his neck, hugging him hard.

 

Slowly, finally, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

 

She sighed. “You don’t have any control over that … but, Jesus.”

 

“I know that it’s not what you signed up for,” he stated in an oddly formal voice.

 

She reared back and glared down at him. “Don’t fucking say that. None of us sign up for any of this shit. Just because I didn’t sign up for it … doesn’t mean I’ll walk away. Terrified or not, I’m not a quitter, and I will be here.”

 

And she glared down at him, wanting to see a change. When his gaze warmed, and he snatched her back into his arms, she felt tears and wasn’t sure if they were hers or his. Her heart full, she tilted her head back and kissed his chin, then his jawbone, cheeks, finally his nose.

 

Before she knew it, she was flipped onto her back and pinned in place. His dark gaze locked on hers, as he stared into her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, when he lowered his head, sealing her words forever inside. But the heat flared from a slow burn to a fiery conflagration within seconds—almost as if the need for the acceptance found in this feeling between them, could burn away the fear of what could lie ahead. Yet that incident would forever be burned into their hearts and souls. And the fire burned brightly as they stripped to the skin, leaving nothing between them.

 

The complete transparency was needed—at least in this very intimate act, before frantic hands and heated kisses covered every inch of skin. Soft murmurs and gentle sighs accompanied the sinuous movements, as he finally slid between her thighs and drove home. Smooth and heated skin against skin, they sank into the joy of having each other. The joy of coming together to forget and to forgive. To, for the moment, step past what happened and move on. In the best way possible.

 

They held each other close, both of them finally collapsing, exhausted for hours, until Kate woke a little later, still held in his arms. She shifted ever-so-slightly, and his eyes opened.

 

“Is it morning already?” he asked, his voice gritty.

 

She nodded. “It must be”—she groaned—“because light’s coming through the window.”

 

“Close the blinds please, and we’ll go back to sleep.”

 

She gave a half laugh. “Not a bad idea but I have to go to work. Rodney will be in soon, and he won’t like it one bit to deal with Smidge alone.”

 

Simon groaned and opened his arms wide. She shifted, got up, and peered out at the city. “Oh, it’s morning all right. Got to be at least eight-thirty.”

 

Behind her, she heard Simon call out, “You’re right. It’s eight-twenty.”

 

“Great,” she muttered, “late for the office again.”

 

“I hardly think an eight o’clock start time counts when you’ve been up half the night.”

 

“Maybe not,” she agreed, “but I sure won’t make it by nine either. I need coffee, and I need food.” She dressed quickly and walked into the kitchen, where she put on coffee, deciding to forego the eggs. She was sorting through what options she had for toast, when Simon quickly moved her aside and proceeded to fry up eggs for each of them. Shortly she had a plate of eggs on toast. She dug in with a fierceness that surprised her—and him too, from the look on his face, as he watched her with a searching gaze.

 

She shrugged. “I burned through a lot of calories last night, whether I wanted to or not. It was a very strange evening.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” he added pointedly.

 

“I’ll just forget about that aspect,” she shared.

 

“Yeah, you do that, if you can,” he replied. “I don’t know if it’s even possible for me to forget that.”

 

“Maybe it was a vision,” she suggested. “I woke up thinking something along that line.”

 

“Maybe,” he muttered.

 

But she saw he wasn’t convinced. “Too bad your gram isn’t around to ask.”

 

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Simon dropped his head in his hands. “It’s not as if I heard about anything such as that.”

 

“No, but various psychic incidences have been proven, right or wrong, truth and logic notwithstanding,” she mentioned, stuffing her mouth again. “You do hear some pretty strange scenarios, where things, such as this, do manifest.”

 

“If you say so,” Simon muttered. “Can’t say I’m convinced.”

 

“No, I’m not sure convinced is the word for it,” she added, “but whatever, it happened.”

 

He nodded. “I would suggest we maybe do a short tour, a cruise out of the harbor, when you have a couple days off, whenever we solve this case.”

 

“One of your gambling cruises?” She eyed him with amusement.

 

“Oh, I might gamble a little bit,” he said, with a tug of his lips.