Later that night Julianne woke up cold and alone. She opened her eyes, seeking Zach, missing the heat of his body. He was gone, had been gone for a while, if the cold sheets were any indication. She lifted her head, looked at the clock. Almost 3:00 a.m.
Where was he? She hadn’t heard the phone ring. The bathroom light wasn’t on. She could hear voices, though, faint and distant.
She shoved the comforter aside, got out of bed and crept to the closet. She pressed her ear to the wall adjoining the secret room. Nothing. But when she left the closet, the sound of the voices increased, not to a comprehendible volume but enough to verify she wasn’t crazy. She did hear voices—which seemed to be coming from behind a painting on the wall.
Her pulse pounding, she tilted the painting and discovered a hole in the wall, a pipe from which the voices became distinguishable.
“You knew it couldn’t go on forever,” Zach said.
“Why not?” a woman answered. “You promised you would take care of me.”
Julianne pressed a hand to her mouth.
“I never expected you to stay this long. I assumed that at some point you would want something different.”
“I want to stay with you.”
“I’m married now. I told you that. Things have changed.”
“I don’t see why I have to change because of it.”
“I’m tired of the deception. Julianne has already figured out that someone is living in the tower. She’s not naive enough to believe it’s a ghost. And I wouldn’t put it past her to find the key and let herself in. She’s resourceful and a free spirit. It’s a problematic combination.”
What did that mean? Julianne wondered, frowning at the wall. She was problematic?
“I don’t want to meet her.”
“You’ve made that clear.”
“You promised me I’d always be your girl.”
“You still are, Hannah. That won’t change.”
Hannah. Julianne flattened her back to the cold wall and closed her eyes. Hannah lived in the tower room.
“I’m not ready,” Hannah said.
“At least meet Julianne. You’d like her.”
“I hate her.”
A long silence followed, some kind of stand-off, Julianne guessed. Two strong-willed people, neither willing to back down.
“Go to bed,” he said, resignation in his voice. “Get some sleep.”
Julianne stood frozen for a few seconds trying to digest what she’d overheard. Then she scrambled to realign the painting and get back into bed before Zach returned.
Her heart pounded, stealing her ability to hear. She curled in a ball, her back facing his side of the bed. She could barely breathe, there was so much pressure on her chest. Hannah. In the tower room. Locked in. Someone who meant a lot to Zach—or at least had meant a lot. Their current relationship wasn’t clear, except that Zach wanted Hannah to move on, and she didn’t want to. Nor did she want him out of her life. Where did that leave Julianne? Who mattered more to him?
The thought of sharing him…
The bed jostled under Zach’s weight. She hadn’t even heard the door open. He seemed to be staring at her, maybe wondering why she’d moved so far on the other side of the bed?
He moved closer, tucked himself behind her. His arm slipped around her waist. Tears sprang to her eyes. She was weak, wanting him as she did when another woman also had some sort of claim on him, someone he had an emotional past with. He only had a convenient future with Julianne, not until death do us part, but until the coast was clear.
His fingers grazed her stomach through her pajama top, softly, steadily. He slipped his hand under the fabric and stroked her skin.
“You’re awake,” he whispered.
“No. I’m dreaming.”
She felt him smile where his lips touched her shoulder. Did she want this to happen? Yes. Yes. She wanted him. But with all the secrets that hung between them? Was she just a substitute for Hannah? Could he be that dishonest? He’d seemed to have a high degree of integrity and selflessness.
She’d long harbored a fantasy of finding the perfect man and falling in love, with no secrets between them, nothing hidden from the other. After an entire life of secrecy, she needed that kind of relationship.
But, oh, how she wanted him. She knew she couldn’t keep enduring night after night sleeping beside him and not make love with him.
“Is this okay?” he asked, cupping her breast.
“Yes,” she answered, making her decision. She didn’t want to miss out on something so glorious, so exciting. She arched her back as he stroked her, teased her, drew her nipples into hard, aching knots. Heat gathered between her legs and spread up her body. Needing to kiss him, she turned and found his mouth with hers. He cupped her head, slowing the pace, taking control. She shook.
“Relax,” he said against her lips. “Just let it happen.”
She dug her fingers into his back. “I can’t. I want…”
“So do I. But let’s make this memorable.”
He spent a lot of time getting acquainted with her mouth, seemingly not in a hurry to move things along with any speed. She appreciated the time he took, the way he nibbled and tasted and savored, at the same time managing to peel off her pajamas, and his T-shirt and sweatpants, then they were skin to skin. Still he only kissed her until she finally pulled his hand down to her breast.
“Please,” she whispered.
He indulged her, caressing her, dipping low to take her nipple in his mouth, drawing it into his warmth and wetness. His tongue performed magic. She lifted toward him even more. He let his hand drift down her abdomen until his fingers settled on her with an exquisite intimacy. She tipped back her head and moaned as he stroked and dipped and explored.
She reached for him, too, grabbing hold, enjoying the strength and heat until he wrapped a hand around her wrist, stopping her.
“Not a good idea,” he said.
She pulled away reluctantly. He’d felt so good, so vital. She wanted to feel him inside her, where he belonged. She wanted to know what it felt like. Still he was in no hurry but did things to her that emptied her mind of everything but the touch of his lips and tongue and fingers. Pressure built, a kind of yearning that defied description, a need for satisfaction. Completion. Merger.
Mating.
Need spiraled through her. Hunger had her begging. When he moved over her, she wrapped her legs around him. He positioned himself. She felt the tip of him press forward, slowly, gently. “Okay?” he asked every few seconds. After a while her body’s demands took away her ability to speak. In her mind she heard yes over and over. Like that. Oh, that feels so good.
But what came out of her mouth were groans and nonsense sounds. Reaction, response. Joy. His arms clamped around her just as the pain struck, piercing, fleeting. Done with. Sore, maybe, but still the building pressure, the building ecstasy. Then a shattering explosion from deep inside, spreading everywhere. His mouth on hers, hard, demanding, hot. Her fingernails in his back, holding on. His body sliding against hers, rhythmic, possessive. Then the slowing down, catching of breath, finding earth. Peace and happiness and wonder.
She wrapped her arms around him, keeping him close. Her eyes welled. It had been beautiful, awesome and memorable, as he’d known was right for both of them. She replayed it over and over in her head, imprinting it, all of it—touch, sound, smell, sight, taste.
“Okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Did I hurt you?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“A good pain, Zach. Really good.”
“No regrets?”
“None.” She realized he needed to hear that it had been good for her. She had nothing to compare it with, but she gave him the words, anyway. “You made it special. I won’t forget it ever.”
He rolled them onto their sides, keeping their legs entwined. He kissed her gently, brushed her hair from her face.
“Why tonight?” she asked. Tell me the truth.
“I realized you were right.”
“About what?”
“That this marriage may last for quite a while. And if you were willing to make it physical, knowing it will come to an end, then so was I. Selfish, I guess.”
She needed time to think about what he’d said and how he’d said it. He hadn’t hesitated in his response, which meant he’d thought about it. He had needs and she was convenient? Was she willing to settle for that?
And what about Hannah?
“I’ll be right back,” he said, giving her a gentle kiss.
At some point he’d put on a condom. She was grateful for that. Her plans didn’t include a baby at this point. Of course, her plans hadn’t included marriage, either. Life is what happens while you’re making plans. Where had she heard that?
He returned with a warm, wet washcloth and bathed her. She was glad the lights were off, as the intimacy of his actions heated her face.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“I’m sure.”
“You’re very quiet.”
“It’s not every day a woman loses her virginity.”
“To her husband, as you pointed out.”
“I think that’s probably especially unusual.” Did he feel proprietary about her because of it? “Zach?”
“What?”
“We don’t need to talk this to death, you know. It happened. I was willing. I don’t expect anything different from you.”
“Don’t you?”
Something about the inflection in his voice alerted her. Was he arguing the point?
“You don’t think you have a right to something different from me?” he continued.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” She was trying to be sophisticated, even if she didn’t feel that way. Truth was, she didn’t think he wanted her to fall in love with him, that it would complicate things too much.
He didn’t explain what he meant. After a minute he got out of bed. She heard water run in the bathroom then he came back and drew her close.
“We’ll talk about it another time,” he said, his breath warm against her face. Then he tucked her more tightly against him. She slipped an arm around him. She wanted to cry. Why did she want to cry? He’d been tender and kind and selfless. What did she have to complain about?
You don’t trust him. Not completely.
The words lit up like neon in her mind. She would’ve trusted him, blindly, if she hadn’t been aware of Hannah’s existence. How old was she? What did she look like? Why was she choosing to stay on the island? In the tower? Isolated?
The questions drifted away as her body demanded sleep.
“Good night,” he whispered.
“Night.” That was the last thing she remembered until morning when she woke up to an empty bed. She stretched, recalled she was naked and why.
She was glad he wasn’t there to see her face flush as she relived what had happened between them. She smiled at the ceiling. Then she remembered the conversation between Zach and Hannah.
Julianne glanced at the painting on the wall, the one that hid the listening pipe. The smile left her face as she realized there was a matching painting on the opposite wall. She stared at it. Wondered.
Had to know.
She climbed out of bed, walked warily to the painting and shoved it to one side. Not just matching paintings. Matching listening holes. And she would bet anything it led to the tower room she’d been assigned to.
The bedroom door opened. Zach.
“You spied on me.”
“Julianne—”
“You listened to my conversations on the phone with Jamey. You knew I’d asked him to help me leave.” She remembered something else. “You heard me tell him I missed my mochas. You had Mrs. Moody bring them. It wasn’t her idea at all. You heard whatever I said to myself. I had no privacy whatsoever.” She let the painting fall into place and turned around. Her fury was complicated by the fact she was also naked, and therefore feeling more vulnerable than ever in her life.
Expressionless, he walked past her into the bathroom and returned with a robe, his robe. She grabbed it from him, not letting him help her don it.
“You had privacy, Julianne. I admit I overheard things a couple of times, but it was rare that I intruded.”
“Once is too much.”
He hesitated. “Yes. You’re right.”
After a moment she strode across the room and lifted the mate. “And this one?”
He crossed his arms.
“Hannah has no privacy, either,” she said.
“Nor from you, either, apparently,” he replied, the angles of his face sharpening. “Get dressed.”
“I don’t take orders—”
“Get dressed, please, Julianne. I’ll take you to meet Hannah.”
“She doesn’t want to meet me.”
He stared at her. “It’s time to end that secret.” He walked away. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
The door shut with a quiet but final click.
“Thirty minutes!” she shouted at the door, not letting him have the upper hand.
“Okay!” he called back.
Her lips twitched. She refused to let it become a smile. If he wanted her to meet Hannah against her will, it meant he was placing Julianne’s needs first.
That made her happy.