Connor
Edward didn't say anything when he took my hand. He just laced his fingers through mine and led me down the hall.
The house was cool. Wood under my feet this time, warm and smooth. The air smelled like lemon polish and the lake coming through the open doors. "Come on," he said, voice low. "I want to show you."
The bedroom was at the end. The whole wall was glass. Floor to ceiling and beyond it was the lake, and the sunset.
I stopped in the doorway. "Edward," I said, because my brain short-circuited.
He let go of my hand and stepped in, watching me. "Well?"
The room was all wood and light. A low, big bed in the center with white linen sheets and a taupe throw that looked like it had been artfully rumpled just for this moment. Two pillows, then two more behind them. A rug under the bed, soft and grey.
