Help Me Remember (Rose Canyon, #1)(55)

“Spencer?” I say, suddenly uncomfortable and shy. “Do I look okay?”

His gaze meets mine, and we hold for a few seconds. I see the moment his restraint snaps, and he moves into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. I stutter back a step, but he’s already there, pushing my back against the wall, caging me in. I am so glad I wore the heels. We’re almost the same height and I can see the desire swimming in his eyes. My heart stops before doubling in speed. He’s going to kiss me, and I am so here for it.

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should,” I say. He shakes his head, rubbing his nose against mine. “I want . . . please tell me you want me to kiss you.”

I want that more than anything. I move my right hand from his chest up to his neck, wrapping my hand around it. “I want it.”

Like two magnets drawn together, we collide. His mouth claims mine in a searing kiss that’s infinitely better than the last one. There’s no restraint on either of our parts. No slowness or tenderness. This kiss is desperate need and desire. I melt against him, needing his heat, which is a complete contrast of the cold against my back. I taste the mint on his tongue and inhale his cologne, the musky scent that is all him.

His mouth leaves mine, and his lips and tongue slide down my neck and along my shoulder.

“Spencer.” I moan his name when he makes his way back up, nipping my ear playfully.

“You take my breath away.” His deep voice rumbles. “You are so beautiful, and I want you so badly.”

Head injuries, I’ve decided, are not all bad. If they make your lifelong dream of having the man you lusted after your whole life want you, then I am really okay with this.

“I . . . I don’t know what is happening,” I say oh so eloquently.

“What do you mean?” He looks deep into my eyes, making it so much harder for me to string words together.

“This. You. Kissing me and . . . whatever this is. I don’t care anymore. Does that make me a bad person?”

That’s basically the gist of my confusion. Spencer has never once made any kind of advance on me. At least not that I can remember. So, why now? Is it because of Isaac’s death? Is there something I don’t remember?

Spencer steps back, and the loss of his heat is immediate. I am an idiot. I should’ve kept my trap shut and just enjoyed the kissing.

“I wanted to kiss you, and I didn’t take into account the entire situation. Fuck!” He runs his hand through his thick brown hair. “I’m such an asshole.”

“For kissing me?”

“Yes!”

“Please feel free to do it again,” I say as I adjust my breasts back to where they should be. “Not to mention, we kissed a few nights ago, and we weren’t upset about it then.”

Spencer’s eyes move from my face to my chest. “What do you mean?”

“I liked it. I want it to happen and keep happening. I understand that we’ve been through a lot, and this is probably a really fucking bad idea, but I don’t have it in me to care.”

His lips part and then close. I can see I’ve confused him as well.

“You want me . . . to keep kissing you?”

“Yes. I mean, if I can’t remember the dude I may or may not be engaged to, it’s not really cheating, right?”

Spencer sighs. “What if you love him?” His voice is low, but I hear the question as though he screamed it. “What if he’s the one you really dream of, Brielle? What if this guy is so in love with you that he’s dying inside? What if—”

“What if there’s no guy? Hell, if there is a guy, where the fuck is he? It’s been weeks and no mystery guy has shown up looking for me. If he loves me so much, why isn’t he here? For all we know, he’s the one who killed Isaac and tried to kill me and that’s why he hasn’t shown up. There are a million questions we can go through and still end up right here.” I step toward him, placing my hand on his chest. “Right here and right now, there’s no other guy. There’s you and there’s me, and I want you to kiss me. I want to kiss you. I want you to be the guy, Spencer, don’t you see that? You are the guy for me, right here, right now. When I’m with you, I’m safe and happy,” I breathe the last part.

“You are supposed to be safe with me.”

The way he says that, as though feeling and being are different, makes me pause. “Am I not safe with you?”

Spencer’s finger moves to my cheek, pushing a stray hair back. “Not right now you’re not.”

I press my body just a little closer to his, craving his warmth. “I have never felt safer than I do when you’re around.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

“Maybe not.”

A door slams across the hall, and we jump apart. My heart is pounding in the way it always does when there is a sudden, loud noise.

“Brie.” His voice is full of concern.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” And I am. I’m okay, and I am safe. Spencer would never let anything hurt me. I am just a little skittish still. As my heartbeat steadies, I step to him, not wanting to stop the conversation. “I mean it, Spencer.”

“I know you do, but you don’t know everything that’s happening.”