BooksBarbecue
Back The Dare
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for
  3. PART ONE
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. NETWORK RAIL SAFETY UPGRADES TOO LATE FOR “OUR ALICE”
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. PART TWO
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. PART THREE
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. THREE MONTHS LATER
  64. Dedication
  65. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  66. BY LESLEY KARA
  67. About the Author
  68. What’s next onyour reading list?

But every time I’m about to say the words, something stops me, because however hard I try to convince myself that he’s on my side, I realize I don’t know this man at all. I have absolutely no idea what he’s capable of. And do I really want him on my side, after all the lies he’s told me?

No, I am not going to rock this boat until I’m well and truly on dry land. He’s still deceived me in the most insidious way. He’s still an unknown danger to me and the baby.

—

I watch, surreptitiously, as Ross gets ready for bed. I’m pretending to read, but every so often I raise my eyes to steal a glance at him as he discards his clothes onto the chair. This will be the very last time I see him do this and, despite everything, I feel a rush of emotion. Love, it seems, cannot be turned off like a tap, no matter how serious the betrayal, no matter how deep the hurt.

I scan back over those early moments in our relationship. How giddy and swept up I’d been in the romance of it all, how much I’d wanted to be loved. Our first meeting in the café in Dovercourt. The subsequent walks on the beach. Was spilling his coffee on my boots a deliberate ploy? How did they know where to find me?

He gets into bed and spoons my back, his arm resting gently on my bump, his breath warm on the nape of my neck. How is it possible to love someone and hate them at the same time, to hold two different versions of them in your head?

His hands move slowly and gently up to my breasts, just as they’ve done so many times before. I want to push him away. I want to scream at him to stop, to get up and leave right now, but all I can do is lie here, entwined with this stranger. This imposter. Allow him to make love to me as if nothing has changed.

I could say no. Tell him I’m too tired. Too ill. Because I am. I’m both of those things. He’s never pressured me into sex, not once. But something tells me that now is not the time to refuse, that keeping him onside and confident of my love, my desire for him, is more important than ever. Sex is a language all of its own. If my body fails to communicate in its normal way, he’ll know something’s wrong.