The Hidden

by Jessica Verday

  I held my breath again.

  “You,” he whispered, bringing his hand to hover by my cheek, “are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

  And then he touched me.

  A shock wave of feeling rolled through me, and I turned my face into his palm, closing my eyes, rubbing my cheek against his hand like a kitten demanding to be nuzzled. Demanding to be closer.

  Finding it hard to believe it had been a whole year since the last time I’d felt his skin, my fingers were greedy and grasping, sliding onto his coat. Up his shoulder. Into his hair. I reached for him … and he was solid.

  Caspian reached for me at the same time, and we crashed somewhere in between want and need. His free hand laced with mine, and I felt. Everything that was there, everything that made up him, I felt. The solid warmth of his fingers. The gentleness of his hand. Even the tiny bumps and ridges that were a part of his knuckles.

  He cradled the back of my head, and it was blinding speed, and a mad, sweet rush as a tidal wave of emotion washed over me. The space between us had been there for so long, and now I was pressed against him, and laughing and crying, and trying not to let my makeup run all over the place again. …

  And I could feel.

  We could feel.

  He was real, and I was real, and this was so real.

  I tipped my face up, blindly searching for his. He pulled away his hands and traced my cheeks, my lips, my eyebrows, my chin. Any part of me he could touch, he touched. Slowly. Achingly. While the whole time I was going mad, burning from a fire within that was tearing me apart.

  “Please, please,” I heard myself whispering. “Please …”

  Then he kissed me. And I was lost.

  If I’d thought I had been burning before, this was drowning. My lips coaxed his apart, and I couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t feel enough. Wasn’t close enough.

  I pushed myself against him and ran a searching hand through the inside of his jacket. Closer. I wanted to be closer.

  A shirt was in my way, and I wanted to howl in outrage. Hurriedly, I unbuttoned the top button, and it gave way to skin.

  I had found him, and he was mine.

  Caspian groaned, and pulled me against him even tighter. I could feel all of him, even through the bulkiness of my dress. We moved backward, and a wall was suddenly behind me. My hands moved up, twining in his hair, and his hands moved down. Across my collarbone.

  I couldn’t stop kissing him. Tasting him. Touching him. And my hands roamed freely. I had a lifetime of touch to make up for in such a short period of time.

  He broke away and kissed my neck, I shivered. He slowed at a sensitive spot near the bottom of my ear, and my knees almost gave out. “Ummmmmmm,” I said.

  “What’s that?” Caspian whispered. He lifted his head a fraction of an inch.

  “Don’t stop. That’s what I said.”

  “Oh, really?” He laced his fingers through mine, and pinned my hands against the wall. “Because I thought it sounded more like a moan than actual words.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I said, moving my head to give him better access. “Same thing.”

  He returned his attention to my ear, and I barely noticed that he was looking at my dress until he pulled back again. “You wore that to torture me, didn’t you?” he said, lifting his head, eyes blazing a dark green.

  “What do you mean?” I glanced down.

  He freed one of my hands and pulled on the laces. “This. Is torture. Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take me to undo them?”

  A wicked thrill shot through me, and I took a deep breath, causing the laces to strain. I shook my head. “How long?”

  “Too long. Much too long. And with your hair up, all sexy like that, and just a couple of these curls teasing me by falling down …” He traced a loose curl, and then groaned again. “Torture.”

  Suddenly he wrapped his arm around me, and we were moving to the bed, falling onto it. He pulled me down on top of him, and my legs wrapped around his as a sea of rose petals and the skirts of my dress billowed up around us. He ran one hand gently down my face.

  “I’ve been waiting a very long time to do that,” he said. “And I think I need to do it again.”

  I let him pull me in again for another kiss, and this time we were both lost. I couldn’t get enough of his skin. He teased the corner of my lips, and I opened my mouth for him. But he pulled away.

  I tried to pull him close again, offering myself in exchange for more, when he moved on to the corner of my eye. He slowly kissed his way down the side of my face, tracing a path to my neck. I freed one hand and reached up to let my hair down. It tumbled around us, and he growled a little as he plunged both hands into it.

  My skin was growing warm. Too warm, and I wanted my dress off. Now.

  I was the one who pulled back then, and he tried to follow. But I held him down with the palm of my hand. Shaking my head, I gave him a coy smile and turned my attention to his shirt. The rest of the buttons were easy, and in no time his chest was laid bare.

  I dragged my fingertips across his skin, and he shivered.

  “Tease,” he whispered.

  “Tease? No. This”—I tugged the end of the laces on my bodice, and the top row of strings came free—“is a tease.”

  Caspian licked his lips. “That’s definitely a tease.”

  “And this, what would you call this?” I tugged the laces again one by one, slowly removing them. Exposing more and more skin.

  “A big, big tease?”

  I nodded. “Your turn.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He pushed back the sleeves of his shirt and pulled it off. In the glow of the candles, his skin was burnished gold and highlighted copper. He was beautiful.

  “How does this work?” I said softly, staring down at my palm resting upon his heart. I could feel it beating. “I didn’t think we would get the chance—”

  He laid one finger against my lips. “I don’t know. Just accept it. That’s all that matters right now. Stay with me. In the here and now.”

  I gave him a shaky nod, and then moved his hand to my bodice laces. I wrapped the loose end in his fist. “Why don’t you finish the rest?” The top of the dress spilled opened, and he sat up, pulling me closer to him.

  “You’re beautiful, Abbey,” he said. His tone was hushed and reverent.

  “Blow out the nearest candles,” I said quietly. I was still nervous. “Please.”

  Within a couple of seconds the candles around the bed were out, and I could just barely make out his face. I reached for him again, already missing the taste of his lips. He touched them to mine, and I pulled him down. On top of me.

  We kissed for a long time. He laid one warm hand against my bare leg, and when he touched me, fire ran through my veins. I grasped his face and held him close. Staring into his beautiful eyes, I said clearly, “I want you. Every part of you.”

  He held very still. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

  “Yes.”

  “Or later, regret—”

  “Caspian, yes.”

  “I just wanted to give you a good memory here. Since—”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I said desperately, hungrily. “Give me a good memory. Please. I love you, Caspian. Love me.”

  He cupped my face, and gently pushed aside a curl. “I love you, too, Abbey. More than life. More than death. More than forever.”

  Then I was drowning again. But this time I wasn’t alone. This time he was with me. Guiding me. And we were drowning together. Closer than life, and death, and everything in between.

  I cracked open an eyelid, and immediately wondered where I was. My arms and legs felt heavy, like they were still asleep. I moved to roll over onto my side, and felt a twinge of soreness from muscles I didn’t even know I had.

  My eyes opened all the way, and Caspian came into sight. I realized that I was on my back, my hair spread out around me, my dress n
ot at all where it should be, and I tingled all over. A simultaneous feeling of exhaustion and contentment spread through me.

  Caspian was lying next to me, the sheet wrapped around his waist. I could tell that I was blushing even as I looked at him. “That was … intense,” I said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Was it, um, intense for you?”

  “Very intense.” He leaned forward and ran a finger down the tip of my nose. “And so very worth the wait.”

  Now I was blushing even harder, a ridiculously happy feeling of satisfaction suffusing me. “How did I manage to keep my dress on?”

  “Luck? Skill? Sheer force of will?” he said. “We were a bit too busy to think about it.”

  I grabbed for the sheets to pull up around me. Suddenly I was feeling exposed.

  He gently moved a piece of hair away from my face. “Don’t get all shy on me now,” he said.

  I reached up and took his hand, smiling at him. “I’m not.” Then I glanced back down at the sheet I was desperately clinging too. “Okay, maybe I am. A little.”

  He smiled too.

  “Only twenty-one hours left,” I whispered, looking at the clock. We were on borrowed time. It was almost three a.m.

  “Twenty-one hours more,” he corrected. “Twenty-one hours to be together.” He reached for the white tuxedo shirt on the floor. “I think we should have a dance. Since we didn’t get to share your prom.”

  When he looked away, I took advantage of the moment to gather the top of my own dress together. One of the laces was dangling free, at the end of the bodice, but the other one was missing.

  “Have you seen my string?” I asked. “I had two.”

  He glanced around casually. “Nope. Don’t see it. Guess you’ll have to make do with just one.”

  “One won’t lace it up all the way.”

  “And that’s a problem?”

  I laughed. “I guess if you’re not complaining …”

  He held up both hands. “I’m not complaining.”

  I grinned, pulling up the lace and tugging it into position. It slipped through the bodice holes easily, but it was definitely not pulled as tightly closed as it could have been. When I looked up again, Caspian had his shirt back on.

  “The tux was a nice touch,” I said. “How did you pull it off?”

  “Uri. He helped me out with a couple of things. The tux, the roses … It took me a while to set everything up because I …” He looked away.

  Gathering up my skirt, I pushed myself to a standing position. My legs and thighs ached, like I’d been running a marathon, and it took me a second to get used to the feeling. Caspian went over to a CD player on top of the fireplace mantel and pushed a button. Jazz filled the air, and when he returned to me, he held out his hand.

  We danced through four songs, and I never wanted it to end. The candles burned lower, most of them were almost gone. I looked up at him, and he was looking down at me. His eyes were wide and focused. “What?” I asked.

  “Just you. I’m just happy being with you,” he explained.

  “Me too.” I sighed. “I feel all warm and gooey inside. Like chocolate chip cookies.”

  “I don’t remember what chocolate tastes like.”

  “You don’t?” I stared up at him in disbelief.

  “No.”

  “Then, we need to fix that. Come on. We are going to do some baking.” I grabbed his hand and led him to the door, stopping along the way and blowing out the remainder of the lit candles.

  He followed me down to the kitchen, and I flipped on a light. It didn’t take long to assemble the ingredients, and in no time we were both elbow-deep in cookie dough.

  “Taste this,” I directed him, after stirring in half a bag of chocolate chips.

  I held up a spoon to his lips, and he tasted some and swallowed. A comical look crossed his face. “I don’t know if I like it,” he said, licking the corner of his lips. “It’s … weird.”

  “Weird?” I waved the spoon in front of him. “Weird? What planet are you from?”

  He laughed.

  “Okay.” I pulled my hands out of the dough and dug into the chocolate chip bag. Producing a morsel, I held it out to him. “Try this. Tell me if this is weird.”

  He bent his head closer and opened his mouth. His lips wrapped around my finger when I pulled away. His eyes caught mine. “Delicious,” he said. Then, with a mischievous look on his face, he dug a hand into the bowl of dough and tossed a tiny glob at me. It landed on my cheek.

  “What?” I shrieked. “You did not just do that! Are you starting a food fight?”

  His eyes said it all, and he taunted me with another handful of dough.

  I retaliated with a fistful of flour. It showered down upon his head, coating his eyelashes and eyebrows, and I couldn’t stop the eruption of giggles that burst out of me.

  He threw sugar next, and I shrieked again as the cold grains ran down the front of my dress. More flour was my only option, and he was laughing too, even as the front of his suit exploded in a blossom of white powder.

  Caspian advanced, fingers coated with sticky cookie dough, and I laughed as I retreated. The kitchen was a mess, we were a mess, and I had dough on my face, sugar down my dress, and the threat of more coming my way.

  “Truce, truce,” I called, throwing my hands up in mock surrender.

  “Aye, for there to be a truce, ye will need to pay a bounty,” he growled in a terrible fake pirate accent.

  I couldn’t stop laughing at the sight of his white eyebrows, and I doubled over in a heap of giggles. He pounced, and pinned me down, sticky fingers grabbing mine as he straddled me.

  “The bounty,” he said. “I think we can come to an agreement.”

  Pulling one of his hands down to my lips, I licked his finger clean. “Mmmmm,” I said. “Chocolate chip cookie dough has never tasted so good.”

  His eyes went dark and his lips met mine. “You are so right.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  LOSING TIME

  But if there was a pleasure in all this, while snugly cuddling in the chimney corner of a chamber that was all of a ruddy glow from the crackling wood fire …

  —“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”

  We left the kitchen behind and stumbled back upstairs. We were almost to the bed when I realized that we were still covered in baking supplies. “We’re all dirty,” I said, taking my mouth from his. “We’re covered in flour and sugar, and …” I wiped my cheek. “Cookie dough.”

  Caspian pulled back. “You’re right. I have an idea. Stay here.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed as he left me behind and went to the bathroom. An instant later I heard the sound of bath water running.

  “Wait ten minutes and then come in,” he called out.

  I sat and waited. An excruciating ten-minute wait. Then I got up and went over to the closet. I had an extra bathrobe in there. After pulling off my dress, I hung it up and put on the robe.

  The water stopped. The bath was full.

  “Are you ready?” I teased, moving closer. “It isn’t big enough for two people, you know.”

  I stepped into the bathroom. Steam was scorching the mirror. Caspian was waiting by the edge of the tub, his jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, hair and face all clean. A matching set of purple towels and a washcloth sat on the counter. Mounds of fluffy bubbles practically overflowed from the water’s edge.

  He made a short bow. “This bath is for you, milady.”

  “You made a bath for me?” I was impressed. And just a little bit nervous about taking off the robe in front of him. I dug one toe into the bath mat. “Can you …?” I glanced down at my robe.

  He gave me a half smile, but turned his back. “Better?”

  I slipped off the robe and hurried to the water. “Much.” Sinking down into the tub, I let out a groan of satisfaction. It was heavenly. Just the right temperature. I tipped my head back and slid under the water for a second, wetting my
hair.

  When I surfaced, Caspian had turned back around and was leaning on one knee, settled on the floor beside me. “Good?”

  “The best. You’re amazing.”

  His smile was beautiful, and I moved forward to kiss him. My fingers lingered in his hair, and I didn’t want to let him go.

  But I’ll have to …

  My throat tightened, and I cleared it brusquely. I didn’t want thoughts like those to intrude on our time together now.

  “So,” I said. “Now that we’ve had our dance and made some cookies—even though we forgot to put them in the oven … What should we do next?”

  “The moon?” he suggested. “Vegas? Russia? Thailand at midnight?”

  “Oooh, you’re a romantic. What else?”

  He rattled off a list of things to do, and places to see, and I leaned my head back and listened. It didn’t matter that we couldn’t do any of those things. Just hearing him talk like we had a future was enough for me.

  I reached for the orange burlap bag of pumpkin spice bath salts that I always kept on the edge of the tub, and poured a handful in. The salts were rough beneath my fingertips, and I moved my hands through the water to make them disintegrate faster, while a memory from another time and place hit me. Another bath, where I’d put bath salts into the water. But he hadn’t been with me then, and all I could do was wonder. Now it was a completely different experience.

  A clump of salt caught in my hand, and I lifted it out of the water, staring at it. The little piece of rock salt was slowly falling to pieces, and I realized that all this time I’d used these bath salts like it was just an everyday, normal thing, and I’d had no idea. No idea that I might not have years ahead of me to take more baths. Years to just sit and enjoy the warm comfort of the water on my skin, the scent filling my nose, the silky sensation left behind from the oils … Normal. Everyday. Mundane things. Things I have taken for granted for so long.

  “Astrid?” Caspian’s voice broke through my thoughts.

  I looked up. “Yeah?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  I’m thinking about this piece of salt in my hand and musing over the wonders of life. “Just about how great this is,” I said with a smile. “Can you hand me that washcloth?”