Silent Sins ✓ ( book 1) Editing in Progress

Chapter 41

So um... enjoy! xD
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He offers me an apologetic look and pulls his hand away to shift gear. My hand withdraws into my lap and I bury the cold feeling rising along my spine as he pulls up to his house. The moment's gone too soon, too fast.

I wish to rewind the clock and replay the last few minutes of his hand holding mine. Of his touch beating life into my dark heart.

I'm peeling away my seat belt, ready to get out the heated confines of his car when the dark humid air and the sound of rain running down the drains greets me in solace.

We walk side by side, yielding to the silent footfalls of our unspoken words. If time stood stiff and still, I would run my hands along the dark brisk hairs atop his head.

"Is your mother coming over later?"

His thick voice jostles me out of my trance.

"No." Amid the joy of my cast removal, I had forgotten to text her. By now, it's too last for a lunch, and brunch wouldn't do me justice. I don't have an appetite for food on a hot day like this. It'll have to wait for another day.

Funny, isn't it? I was so eager to find out why she left, but now I'm too anxious to know. Using excuses like-lack of appetite- can't play out for very long.

I clear my throat, realising I've drifted off "I'm going to head up for a shower ."

He regards me carefully. "Okay." Then locks the door behind us. I bite my lip awkwardly as I climb the stairs, feeling his eyes on me as I move away.

The temptation to stay downstairs and enjoy his company drags at my feet. He doesn't want me to stay, and I would be foolish if I did.

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Heading through the arch, I cock my head as I breeze into the kitchen. "What are you cooking?" I ask, stopping just before the counter.

He looks up from the chopping board and stills, eyes raining over my sage, halter neck dress. It falls just above my knees, and the thin straps at my waist expose three bare lines of skin.

An entire beat passes before he sets the knife down and clears his throat, those blues becoming a cloudy grey.

Perching myself on a stool, I muse over his vegetables, "Interesting. "I play oblivious to his detached focus.

"Yeah," He recovers quickly. "Hungry?"

I shrug. "Not really."

He gives a lopsided smile. "Right." He picks up the knife again and the veins in his hands protrude along his skin as he dices. I blink.

Those hands tied me to my bed.

They offered me comfort and torment, safety and discomfort.

What had he been through to become this tactful man who now sits, chopping vegetables, holding a knife with such ease, as if they carved the handle for his hold? The fine dark hairs along his arms peak through the cuffs of his shirt and that black ring, ruthless and taunt, stands against his skin like a fire burning in the depths of water.

"Something amusing?" He cocks an eyebrow.

I meet his gaze with resilient eyes. "I- um. I just-"

He smirks. "Relax, I'm only messing with you"

"Your ring," I say.

His eyebrows raise with mockery. "The one you stole? Yes, what about it?"

I ignore his comment "What is it for?"