Steeling himself against the stab of pain that struck his chest, he stripped off his gym kit, tossed it into the laundry basket that sat in the corner of the bathroom and stepped into the cubicle.
Switching the water to ice-cold, Kit winced and felt his muscles relax after his workout, but as for the ache in his chest, well, that, he suspected, was going to be more difficult to assuage.
But he’d just have to because he could take a hint. Or lack of. He wouldn’t seek Lily out any more. He wouldn’t try to change the way things were. It had been a mistake to think that there was any chance of a reconciliation. They had too much baggage and the past should remain right there, in the past.
It had definitely been a mistake to come here, he thought grimly, turning the tap to hot, grabbing the bottle of gel and beginning to lather himself up. With hindsight he’d have stayed the hell away.
But never mind. He only had another twenty-four hours or so on this godforsaken island and then he’d be home. Back to normal. More or less. He’d put Lily out of his mind and get on with his life. He’d move on. Just as he should have once he’d discovered his little ‘problem’ had been solved. He’d get over the distaste at the thought of meeting someone else. Of course he would. In time.
He’d have to because whatever the future held, one thing was certain: it didn’t hold Lily.
What with thunder crashing through the sky, the hammering of the rain on the roof and at the windows and the pelting of the shower over his body—not to mention the rushing in his ears at the acknowledgement that he and Lily really were over—at first Kit didn’t hear the pounding on the door of his villa.
Then he did and he frowned because who the hell was out in this weather? And what was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until it passed?
With a scowl, he switched off the shower, grabbed a towel and wrapped it round his waist. Feeling so tightly wound he thought he might be about to snap, he stalked out of the bathroom. Headed into the hall.
And stopped dead because—it was Lily.
The last person he wanted to see. The only person he wanted to see.
With an eerie sense of fatalism, Kit walked over to the door, his heart thundering and his stomach churning. He opened it and flinched at the gust of wind that whipped in.
Wearing some kind of waterproof top that didn’t have any chance of standing up to the full force of a tropical storm, Lily was sopping wet and dripping onto the step. Her hair was plastered to her skull and her eyes were wild in the dim light of the afternoon. There was a tension gripping her body that drew him. Confused him. Made him wish he were wearing considerably more than just a towel.
Ignoring the disturbing effect she was having on him, he pulled her inside and then with some effort closed the door.
‘What the hell are you doing out in this weather?’ he growled, deliberately channelling his feelings of frustration and confusion into anger to stop himself from dragging her against him and in all likelihood getting a slap to the face. ‘Are you insane?’
‘Very probably,’ she said with a shiver as she peeled her cagoule off.
He stepped forwards to take it from her and then, before the scent of her could get to him, wheeled off to hang it in the bathroom. He brought back a towel and handed it to her.
She rubbed her hair and all Kit could do was watch and wish he were doing it for her. With his brain a mess and his body a mass of tension and need he didn’t trust himself to speak so instead he waited until she was done.
‘I knocked for ages,’ she said eventually, dropping the towel on the sofa and raking her fingers through her hair.
‘I was taking a shower. I didn’t hear you.’
‘I apologise for the interruption.’
Kit frowned at the shakiness of her voice. It might be hot and humid outside but now he thought about it she sounded cold. Sort of numb.
And then it struck him like the lightning that was now flashing all around them that Lily had always been terrified of storms. At the first crack of thunder she’d always dived beneath the duvet, shivering and sweating and breathing far too fast. The only thing that had calmed her was taking her into his arms and letting her burrow right up against him until it was over.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, the desire and frustration hammering through him making way for a thread of concern.
She blinked up at him. ‘Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘You hate storms.’
She stared at him. ‘What?’
‘You’re terrified of them.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘You used to be.’