Denial (Careless Whispers #1)(25)

seven



I open my eyes and immediately become aware of being curled on my side, snuggled under warm blankets, rain spattering on the rectangular line of windows before me, dim light breaking through the curtains. Memories rush over me and I start piecing together the events that brought me here. The hospital. The stairwell and Gallo showing up. Adriel. The bitter cold run in the rain through the church parking lot. The sizzling hot kiss with Kayden by that very same church. Then there was the doctor friend of Kayden’s who gave me drugs, followed by Kayden carrying me to a bedroom in his friend’s house. Finally, there was him laying me on a bed, this one, I assume, where I wasted no time passing out. Because why wouldn’t I want to pass out while in bed with a man with a hotness factor off the charts, especially after sharing a scorching hot kiss? Curious about where he is, I try to roll over, only to realize there is a heavy weight at my waist.

“You’re finally awake.”

At the sound of Kayden’s deep, sexy voice, I roll over to face him, my gaze colliding with his at the same moment I realize that not only am I naked but so is he. Oh God. Maybe I didn’t fall asleep. “Please tell me we didn’t have sex and I don’t remember.”

“If we had sex, sweetheart, I promise you, I’d make sure you remembered.” His hand settles on my hip, over the blanket, but I am oh so aware that I’m all skin beneath it. “And I have on pants.”

“Oh. I guess I was too busy noticing my nakedness and . . . your chest.” I press my hand to my face. “I need to stop talking.” He laughs? and I peek through my fingers. “Please tell me I undressed myself.”

“You couldn’t even lift your own hand after Nathan gave you the pain meds.”

My hand falls from my face and I gape. “You undressed me?”

“You were wet and cold, and I couldn’t wash and dry your clothes with you in them.”

“You undressed me.”

“Yes,” he confirms. “I undressed you, and yes, I’ve been aware of just how naked you are every second you’ve been that way, as I am right this very moment.” He spares me a reply. “How do you feel?”

I clutch the blanket to me. “Feel?”

“Your head, sweetheart. Are you in pain?”

“Oh. I . . .” My brow furrows, and I forget my state of undress. “Wow. No. I’m not. It’s amazing. It’s wonderful. What kind of drugs did your doctor friend give me?”

“Nathan is his name,” he replies. “And when we first arrived last night he gave you a painkiller and a sedative. About four hours ago, he checked on you and gave you an anti-inflammatory that was supposed to ensure you woke up feeling good. Obviously it worked.”

“Wait. He came back and gave me another injection and I didn’t know it?”

“You didn’t know because you were still heavily sedated, and that was the idea. To get the drugs in you before you woke up.”

“He gave me drugs when I was naked. How many people saw me like this?”

“Only me.”

There’s a hard, possessive quality to his voice, and I am suddenly, intensely aware of how close we are. How close our mouths are, and I’m now officially thinking about our kiss. I decide I need a change of topic. “How long was I asleep?”

“Twelve hours,” he says.

“And it’s still raining?”

“It’s not supposed to stop until tomorrow.”

I decide the rain is as never-ending as my memory loss. “And we’re at your hacker friend’s house?”

“Matteo’s house. That’s right.”

“He’s the one trying to find out who I am using my first name?”

“Yes, and he’s still working on it.” He pauses. “We need to talk, Ella.”

My eyes go wide. “Oh no. He found something bad.”

“I’m not interested in what Matteo has, or has not, found right now. Who is he?”

“What?”

“Right before you passed out last night, you looked at me and said, ‘Please don’t be him.’ Who is he and what did he do to you?”

The memory of that man rushes back to me with an image of me tied to that bed, and I try to roll to my back. Kayden’s leg latches on to my legs, holding me in place. “Who is he?”

“I was drugged, Kayden.”

“So you don’t remember saying that to me? And before you answer, be clear. I don’t like secrets.”

“I know you have secrets, so don’t reprimand me. I’m not a child. I’m not your property. This is my life.”

“That has become mine.”

“It’s the past.”

“It’s impacting the present,” he counters. “Who is he?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You remember something or you wouldn’t have said that to me.”

“I told you, it was the drugs talking.”

“It was your memory talking.”

“Fine,” I say. “I had a flashback in the car.”

“And he was in it?”

“Yes.”

“So we’re back to the original question. Who is he?”