He stares down at me, and I fear he’s had second thoughts, come to his senses. Instead, what lies in his eyes is desire intertwined with something more powerful. Surpassing even forgiveness, it’s pure, unbounded acceptance.

Threading my fingers with his, he raises my hands over my head, gently pressing them into the pillow. Braced by his forearms, slowing to an almost torturous pace, he leans down and places kisses on my neck, one after the other, a path to my lips. It’s in this way that we savor every movement and emotion, each breathless sensation and indescribable connection, as if we have all the time in the world. As if in this moment, lost somewhere between day and night, between a dream and reality, a war isn’t happening just beyond the door.

Chapter 71

Curled on my side, I drag my eyelids open and gradually register my blunder. At the sight of Arie in front of me, reclined in bed against the wall, I groan, having failed to keep awake.

“Was I out for long?”

“Not very.”

“I don’t even remember getting sleepy.”

A corner of his mouth slides up. “Personally, I took it as a compliment.” Candlelight accentuates the gleam in his eyes and the toned contours of his upper body, free of the blanket we’re sharing. He continues to stroke my hair. From the lulling rhythm, no wonder I dozed off.

“Stop that now, or I’ll fall back asleep.”

“And what’d be wrong with that?”

The answer forms on my tongue, but I hold it there, swallow it down. Based on the withering of his smile, as if he’s just recalled the reason, it needn’t be said. I rest my arm across his middle, wishing I could forever anchor us to this spot.

“It’s all right,” he says. “It’s only seven. I’ll wake you in time to get back.”

An hour left before curfew. The fact it will be here soon—too soon, along with tomorrow morning’s train—causes a sinking in my chest. Over the quiet stretch that follows, I catch his gaze tracing the profile of my face, the curve of my neck, as if etching them to memory.

But none of that would be necessary, if only he’d reconsider.

I edge upright to sit, the grogginess clearing. “Arie, we don’t need to go our separate ways. Not anymore. Come back with me—you and Evelien both. We can work things out at headquarters. I’m certain of it.”

While he doesn’t concede, he’s contemplating, a positive sign.

“We could ask Willem to vouch for you. Or Nel maybe?”

“No.” Swift and firm. “Not her.”

The possibility of an attraction, even feelings, between them sneaks back into my mind. Normally I’d avoid asking questions whose answers I feared, including Arie’s. Particularly so. Yet absolute honesty has since shattered the barriers dividing us.