It’s us.
As abruptly as the kiss began, it ends. Forehead to forehead we pant and gasp, breaths sawing from our lungs. When I open my eyes, they meet the smooth depths of his.
“Tell me what you feel.” A plea.
“Everything.”
Chapter 7
Macsen
“I know the taste of you. I know the feel of your skin against mine. I know what it’s like to lie spent in your arms.” Ellis’s eyes close on an inhale, our heads still pressed together, our lips mere inches apart. “I know how it feels to take you and be taken by you. I know the endless depths of your passion and the ecstasy of fucking you for hours.” His eyes open, blue heat flickering in his stare. “I know you don’t hold back. From anything.”
I can never hold back with you.
“That’s what you remember.” I choose my words carefully, the ache I carry for him only heightened by the way his eyes are devouring me, threatening to obliterate my resolve. “This awareness of us, these recollections, are things your mind remembers, but I need to know how that makes you feel.”
His gaze searches mine, digging deep and prying in all my dark corners, examining all the parts of myself I hide from everyone else. Except him. I never hide from him.
“Desired,” he admits, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “Craved.” His tongue runs sensuously across his lower lip. “Adored.” Once more, his stare finds mine, the heat in those dark blue eyes evaporating, leaving turmoil in its wake. “Confused.”
He pulls back, his touch falling away, leaving me cold. One hand grips the back of his neck as he turns to look out at the sea below.
“I’m so fucking confused, Macs.” Macs. Say it again. “None of this shit makes sense. These feelings, memories, are impossible.” His head turns slowly, studying me once more, his hands falling limp into his lap. “We met for the first time less than three days ago. You’ve never been here before, and I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
It’s not a question, but I can hear the plea in his voice, and it sends shards of glass into my chest.
Not yet. I can’t tell you yet.
“I—”
Ellis’s phone pings with an incoming text. He glances at his watch and curses under his breath, dropping his gaze to his feet. Running a hand down his face, he stands conflicted, knowing he needs to go back to the pub but desperate to stay. To get answers. To stay close to me.
“Listen, I have to go.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. Not believing I can stop myself from begging him to stay. My confession—all our truths, all our history—on the tip of my tongue.
Not yet. Soon.
After one last, long look filled with questions, yearning and need, Ellis turns and begins to walk back down the craggy coastal path. When he gets only a dozen steps away, he turns, apprehension clear on his face.
“Could I see you again? Tonight, maybe?”
Relief floods me.
“I’d like that.” My voice is nothing more than a croak.
He smiles. It’s boyish and unsure, and it sears straight into my chest. “I’ll cook for you. Seven-thirty, okay?”
“More than okay.” I let him see my joy. Needing him to know the invitation means as much to me as it does him.
There’s a beat of silence where we can do nothing more than stare at each other, goofy grins firmly in place, until his phone pings once more.
“Alright, alright. I’m coming, Iris,” he mutters with a chuckle, shaking his head, his broad smile lowering to a wry grin. Turning once more, hands in pockets, he calls, “Later,” over his shoulder and strides away.
I watch him until he disappears from sight, the painful tug inside me that he owns, growing stronger the further he walks away, almost bordering on panic.
It’s always like this. As if every time we part might be the last.
Logically, I know it won’t be, but my heart never gets the memo.
I should go, too. I have a few builders calling at the manor with rough plans and quotes. Tendering the job out to local construction companies seems to have caused a bit of a stir, if the seven that have contacted me to bid for it are anything to go by.
I also need to do what I’ve been putting off—call Rex. Since our phone call on Friday, the day I arrived in Lily Bay, the only other contact I’ve had from him is a curt email with a list of upcoming meetings.
The list of things I need to catch up on is mounting, but with the feel of Ellis on my lips, it’s easy to ignore all of them. My to-do list can wait. Savouring the taste of Ellis on my tongue while admiring the deep blue stretched out before me is far more important, especially as the colour of the sea is so reminiscent of his eyes.
I am so lost in this place—lost in him.
I hate that he feels even an ounce of turmoil, but I’m hoping tonight I can give him a few answers, despite having to hold back certain truths because there are still some things he cannot know.
Not yet. Not when I’ve only just found him.
The first of the seven builders is waiting for me when I arrive back at the manor.
I pull up outside the main doors, lock the car and watch as a man-mountain squeezes himself out of the driver’s side of a pickup truck. It isn’t a small pickup truck, but it still looks tiny next to him. He’s got to be at least six-foot-five, packed with solid muscle, and sporting a full beard.
“Leo Martin.” His hand is outstretched as he strides my way, and when his colossal palm engulfs mine, I feel like a five-year-old. I’m hardly a small man, but next to this giant, I’m positively petite.
“Macsen Evans. It’s nice to meet you, Mr Martin.”
“No mister, please. Call me Leo.” His smile fits his face perfectly, broad and wide, his white teeth flashing behind his impressive facial hair. If I were to try to age him, I’d say mid-thirties, but it’s hard to tell.
“So, you’re the fella who’s bought the old girl, then. What’re your plans for her?”
I like how he’s straight down to business.
“I want a full refurb. The place needs to be stripped back and brought into this century while maintaining all its classic features. A sympathetic modernisation, if you will.”
He looks over the old building with a critical eye.
“Private home or business?”
We begin to walk around the perimeter, and I tell him my plans for the place. He listens intently while offering advice and suggestions I hadn’t considered, and by the time we make our way inside, I know he’s the man for the job.
Call it intuition, but I know there is no need to waste anyone else’s time. Leo is passionate about the old place, without being forceful. He gives me feedback and ideas without stifling mine, and despite his size, he’s not domineering or full of bluster. He’s relaxed, calm, engaging and focused.
“You’re hired. When can you begin?”
I never thought I could shock a man like Leo, but the perplexed look he’s giving me says that’s precisely what I’ve done.
Brow furrowed, he takes me in from head to toe.
“But I haven’t given you a costing yet.”
“I’m sure you’ll be competitive and quote fairly.”