Denial (Careless Whispers #1)(26)

“I really don’t know.”

His eyes glint with dissatisfaction. “You don’t know or you aren’t going to tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

His lips thin, his expression tightening. “You’re afraid of him.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m afraid of him.”

He studies me, his jaw set hard, seconds ticking by until he says, “I’m not him.”

I want to tell him that I know, but I can’t get the words out.

“I saved your life,” he reminds me. “I’m protecting and helping you.”

Now I can say it. “I know.”

“You don’t know, and that’s a problem for both of us.” He glances away from me, a long strand of his light brown hair teasing his forehead.

“It’s not a problem,” I say hastily, and without meaning to, I’ve all but admitted he’s right. I don’t know. I open my mouth to explain. “I mean . . .”

He cuts a sharp look at me. “I know what you mean, and it damn sure is a problem.” And then he’s tunneling his fingers into my hair, dragging me close, his breath teasing my lips as he adds, “One I plan to solve.”

“I can explain,” I say, hating the anger radiating off him, into me, but his mouth is already slanting over mine, tongue pressing past my teeth, a silky caress that has my nipples puckering and my sex clenching. But I need to talk to him, and my hand flattens over his chest, his skin hot, or maybe it’s just because I’m so hot, burning up for this man. And again, I mean to push him away, but I can’t. I don’t. I’m not sure I really want to. My moan says I don’t, and I give in to how much I want this man, sinking into the kiss, tasting him, getting lost in him.

He rolls me onto my back, the heavy, delicious weight of half his body on top of me, his leg draping mine, his stomach pressed to mine. The hard prod of his arousal is nestled next to my sex. My hands find his shoulders, holding on, not pushing away, as one of his drags the blanket down to expose my breasts. I arch into the touch, and he teases my nipple, nips my lips, and kisses me again, but his anger isn’t gone. I taste it, I feel it vibrating through him, into me, and I want to make it go away, but instead he tears his mouth from mine, staring down at me, our breathing filling the small space between us.

“Do I taste like him?” he demands, his voice gravelly, affected.

“What?” I gasp. Alarm bells go off in my head. “How do you know I kissed him?”

“We both know you did a whole lot more than kiss him, sweetheart, and that kiss was to make sure when you remember him, you know the difference between him and me.” He rolls away, sitting on the edge of the bed, giving me his back, his shoulders bunched with tension.

I sit and clasp the blanket to my chest. “Kayden—”

“Not now,” he says, standing and scrubbing his hand through his hair as he walks away, disappearing into a doorway I assume leads to the bathroom.

Stunned, I stare after him, not sure what to think or feel. We both know you did a whole lot more than kiss him. I do know, but he shouldn’t. Unless he’s him, or I ran my mouth in my drug-induced sleep. And if I did, what did I say? Will it give me a clue to figure out his identity or mine? I have to find out.

I lift the blanket and cringe at the reminder that I’m naked, blushing at the idea of him undressing me, which is absolutely silly. My breast was just in the man’s hand. I spot a throw blanket lying across a gray chair by the window, but I’m not getting it unless I walk over there in my birthday suit, which isn’t the way I want to have a conversation with Kayden. And we need to talk. Deciding there is really only one way to do this, I take a deep breath and decide to go for it.

Tossing off the covers, I rush to the chair, snatch the blanket, and wrap it around myself, letting out a sigh of relief when my task is complete without Kayden’s return. The shower comes on, and I bite my lip at the idea that those pants of his are not still on, and he too is naked, beautifully naked from what I’ve seen so far. In light of this assumption, and the obvious open-door invitation that isn’t about conversation, I hesitate in my pursuit, but decide the situation could be in my favor if I can resist the temptation to end up wet and at his mercy. I need answers, and while he’s trapped and unable to shut me down is the best time to get them.

Giving myself no time to chicken out, I dart forward and enter the magnificent all-white bathroom. I pause inside the doorway, a giant sunken tub to my left and a double shower to my right, with clear glass panels. My mouth goes dry at the sight of Kayden’s amazing, tight freaking backside, and further confirmation that I was right. He is beautiful and he has a tattoo on his back. Skulls, I think, and suddenly skulls are really, really sexy.

“Did you come to join me or just stare at my ass?” he asks without turning.

“I thought there would be a curtain or smoked glass.”

He rotates to face me, and I gasp, giving him my back. He, in turn, gives me one of those deep, raspy laughs. “Careful, sweetheart,” he warns. “I could drag you in here with me and you’d never see me coming.”

My heart leaps at the threat I have no doubt he’ll act on, and I turn around, rushing toward him, and pressing my back against the shower door to hold it shut. “What did I say about that man when I was drugged?”