Chapter 274
A lump formed in her throat as she clutched the nightgown to her chest, fingers tightening around the soft fabric.
Even with his back to her, she felt the weight of him, the heat of his presence still lingering against her skin.
She swallowed hard, pulling the nightgown over her head, feeling the way the fabric clung to her sensitized skin, still bearing the imprint of
his touch.
Graham exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his already- disheveled hair as he looked down at her. Even now, with the first golden rays of morning filtering through the curtains, casting their soft glow over her still–flushed skin, he felt his control hanging by a
thread.
She was watching him, her dark eyes uncertain, searching for something in his face–maybe an answer, maybe reassurance. But he couldn’t give her either, not right now.
Instead, he reached out, brushing his knuckles lightly against the curve of her jaw. The touch was brief, barely there, but it was enough to make her breath hitch. He felt it too, that undeniable pull between them, like gravity, like something inevitable.
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And yet–this wasn’t the time.
His fingers curled into a fist as he pulled away, his expression
hardening.
“Now, go to your room.”
His voice was low, commanding, edged with urgency.
She blinked at him, startled.
“Before Maggie or any of the other staff finds out you were here all
night.”
The words cut through the haze between them like a blade. He didn’t want to humiliate her–hell, after last night, he wasn’t even sure what he wanted anymore. But he did know one thing: If anyone saw her now, with her hair still tousled from his hands, her lips still swollen from his kisses, there would be no hiding what had happened
between them.
And Isla–his Isla–deserved better than whispers in the hallways.
Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. The memory of last night’s rejection still clung to the air between them, thick and heavy.
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He could see it in the way her hands clenched at her sides, in the way her gaze flickered to the floor as if shielding herself from any further
embarrassment.
Graham clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to reach for her again.
“Ten minutes,” he warned, his voice rough. “Come downstairs in ten minutes, Isla. We don’t have much time.”
Time for what? Isla wondered, but she didn’t ask.
She only nodded mutely, her throat too tight, her pride still stinging
too much to argue.
Without another word, she turned and slipped out of his room, the soft rustle of her nightgown the only sound between them.
Isla dressed quickly, her fingers trembling slightly as she buttoned her blouse. The lingering weight of last night still clung to her skin, every breath feeling heavier than usual. Her body was sore, still attuned to every touch Graham had left on her, but her mind was caught in a storm of confusion. His urgency. His cryptic words. Where were they going? Why now?
Crossing the room, she pushed the curtain aside, her eyes searching the landscape beyond the window. The sight that greeted her sent a
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jolt straight to her chest.
A helicopter.
Its blades sliced through the crisp morning air, kicking up dust in furious spirals as it landed on the small stretch of land outside.
Her heart pounded.
Were they leaving again? Was he taking her somewhere?
A rush of unease prickled through her. Something about this felt… wrong. Had last night meant nothing to him? Was this his way of erasing it, of making sure they never spoke of it again?
She didn’t think. She just ran.
Bare feet padding noiselessly against the cool wooden floors, she hurried downstairs, her breath uneven, her chest tight.
But by the time she reached the veranda, the helicopter was already rising into the sky, climbing higher and higher until it vanished beyond the clouds.
She stopped short, her body frozen.
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It was leaving.
Her stomach twisted painfully. Had Graham left too? Without a word?
Without even saying goodbye?
A chill spread through her, colder than the morning breeze. Her fingers curled against the fabric of her blouse as she stood there, staring at the empty sky, trying to push down the hollow ache that was forming in her chest.
And then–movement inside the house.
A shadow flickered from the corner of her vision.
She turned sharply, pulse thudding wildly, and rushed back inside, hardly aware of how unsteady her footsteps had become.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
