Phelan reached over to turn down the lamp as Jacqueline’s hands slid up beneath the hem of his shirt, fingers cold against his skin. He smiled, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. “Now we hope that the storm prevents any major crises from erupting,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her neck.
“That would be amazing.”
She’d just tugged him down into a horizontal position on the bed and he’d started to unbutton her shirt when the not-quite-expected knock at the door came. Jacqueline bit down on a groan and Phelan pressed a finger against his lips in a shushing motion, whispering, “Maybe if we’re really quiet, they’ll think we’re not here and they’ll go away.”
“We can only hope,” she whispered back, grinning at him in the dim of the lowered lamplight.
Hope’s about all we’ve got, I’m afraid. Phelan exhaled a nearly silent sigh and cuddled her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Something tells me they’re not going to go away. They never just go away. There’s not enough places for us to be hiding.
Still, just once I’d really like it if we could just have some time alone without being interrupted by some kind of crisis.
Suddenly, he wondered if Thom and Marin ever felt the same way.
I might owe them a little bit of an apology.
Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked a little more insistently a second time. Jacqueline sighed, fingers lacing through Phelan’s hair.
“I don’t think they’re going away,” she murmured.
“No,” Phelan agreed. “Doesn’t sound like it.” He raised his voice slightly. “Who the hell is it?”
“It’s Neve. Is Jac with you?”
She was already sitting up in bed, fixing her shirt and disentangling herself from Phelan’s embrace. “I’m here. Is Cameron okay?”
“It’s not Cam,” Neve called through the door. “It’s Thordin. He’s awake.”
Bad girl, Erin! Bad!
*picture of innocence*