Page 24

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tessa

I wake up slowly to feel warm skin against mine and my head being pillowed on Nathan’s chest. His smell is intoxicating, inviting me to push my nose closer and inhale his scent.

Earthy. Familiar. Like the empty herbal tea boxes I liked to shove my nose in whenever I was chosen to help prepare meals for over a hundred other kids I lived with.

My eyes fly open, even as the thought evaporates like a mist. Where the hell did that memory come from?

I drink in my surroundings, remembering how awed I was when I first saw his bedroom with its high ceilings, large windows, and artificial fireplace. A modern replica of a bedroom in a Victorian era.

Before I can move my head, my eyes again fall on Nathan’s impressive torso, and I get distracted.

God, he’s fucking ripped. His skin is tanned and glowing with health. I almost can’t believe I’ve been intimate with this gorgeous guy.

I start to trace and follow his muscled pecs, covered with dark, silky hair, and are arranged into neat swirls, tapering into a line between his abs and trailing down to his cock.

I pause when I catch myself already wrapping my hand around him. We hardly slept all night. He was insatiable, and I couldn’t get enough of him, either. So, we didn’t stop or even leave the bed, except for bathroom breaks.

I should let him be. He must be tired, and I don’t want him to think I’m too needy. I take my wandering hand away.

“What, changed your mind?” Nathan’s sleepy rasp rumbles in my ear.

“Hey.” I look up to meet his blue eyes. “You’re awake.”

“You were touching me,” he says as if that should explain it. “Don’t you know that you leave a trail of fire on my skin when you put your hands on me?” he whispers.

“I should hope so.” I chuckle. “My own behavior around you is way too mortifying. I need to learn how to play it cool a little bit, or at least be able to pay you back in some way.”

“True,” he agrees. “Every little thing drives you wild, doesn’t it? You’d think I was a sex god or something.”

“Don’t get cocky with me. Otherwise, I’ll be on you with my tweezers while you’re sleeping, plucking out those grays peeking through here and there.”

He laughs. “Have at it. You do know what they say about plucking, though.”

“Yep. More grow in their place. Good thing I think it’s so fucking sexy. Almost like you’ve been sprinkled with seasoning or something.”

He shakes his head in amusement, then looks down at me but promptly gets distracted by my breasts. “Have you always preferred older men?” He licks a fingertip, then starts tracing my areolae.

I bite my lip but am unable to suppress a moan as my nipples tighten and start to ache.

I prefer you.

“Have you?” He nudges me for an answer.

“No. Besides, you say ‘older’ like you’re ancient. I mean, come on, you’re only eighty-nine, and you even still remember how to wear your dentures, and your liver spots—”

He bursts into laughter before he starts to tickle me until I’m begging for mercy.

When we settle, he remarks, “I’m about the same age as your father, Tess.”

A flash of pain lances through me, killing all of my humor as an anxiety-inducing memory comes to me. It disappears just as soon as it appears.

“What is it, baby?”

“Um… it’s nothing,” I reply.

“Did you remember something?”

“I thought I did when you mentioned my father. And just before you woke up, I had a small flash. It was about an orphanage, I think. Was I adopted?”

“Yes, Tess, at age eleven.”

Makes sense. I’m not sure how to feel. Relieved that I’m starting to remember? Anxious that my returning memories could somehow come between Nathan and me? I think it’s a combination of the two. Then, there’s the question about how exactly I ended up in the ICU.

“You’re right about things triggering me, Nathan. My memory feels just out of reach, like just a scratch away from the surface. But whatever happened had to do with my adoptive father, right?”

Nathan nods slowly.

I try putting the facts together. I nearly drowned while waiting for Nathan, who I believed to be my boyfriend but isn’t.

And then, my dad tried to kill me. It’s awful and shocking, but I still feel numb about it, almost like it’s happening to someone else, because there’s no depth of emotion accompanying my revelation. It’s just facts.

But even though I know that my dad had a hand in what happened to me, I don’t remember all of the details. “Did he try to drown me, then?”

“No, he tried to drug you.”

“Oh, wow. He must be a real asshole. Why would he do that? And how?”

“I’m sure his reasoning is somewhere in this lovely head here.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “He might have mentioned something to you.”

Psychopaths tend to tell their secrets to their would-be victims with the belief that they would never live to repeat the story, so I know that Nathan may be right.

“The most important thing is that he’s far away and he can’t hurt you anymore.”

How does he know for sure? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, but the thought of something else happening to me makes me break out in goosebumps. “But what if he’s looking for his victim who got away?”

Nathan looks like he’s debating telling me the truth. “The psychiatrist advised us to be careful because too much exposure to the trauma could trigger an even worse amnesia for you.”

“Okay. But should I be worried about my father looking for me since I don’t even recall what he looks like? Is that why you brought me here?”

Shaking his head, he gathers me closer into his chest and runs his hand down my spine. “He’s not exactly in any condition to be looking for you, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hurt him a little bit. When I saw what he was going to do to you, I hit him. Multiple times.”

“Nathan!”

“He’s alive, he just needed a quick trip to the OR. I’ve got a few charges to face for what I did, but considering the case is a complex one with high emotions and self-defense involved, not to mention I’m also a key witness in nailing him for his other crimes, I might be able to get a plea bargain to get the DA to drop the assault charge.”

My eyes are like saucers. His other crimes. My boyfriend beat up my father to a pulp and may be facing charges, which are unlikely to stick. And I’m here with half of my memory gone. How did my life get this interesting?

“Oh, my God, Dr. King, you put someone in the operating room! That must be like ten violations of the Hippocratic Oath or something.”

“He’s a serial killer, Tess. He has a unique MO, has killed other people before, and was likely to kill again. I may have saved more lives by that singular act. Think of it like trying to squash a deadly bug.”

“Well, when you put it that way… I guess…”

“By the way, I told you once not to call me Dr. King. I think you need a reminder of what my first name sounds like.”

His flirty tone and heated stare succeeds in distracting me. “Really! Why was I banned from calling you Dr. King?”

“Because you saying my first name makes me hard.”

My mouth opens into an “O” shape. “That’s a very bizarre symptom you’re displaying. I think we’ll need a group of experts to crack that particular diagnosis, Dr. King. I'm thinking psych." I glance pointedly at his cock. "Definitely a large team from urology, too…"

“Fine.” He starts to get off the bed and motions for me to do the same. “You’ve asked for it. Let’s go before my mom gets here.”

“Wait, what! Your mom is coming here this morning?”

He nods. “She’s on her way back to France, but she wants to see you again before she leaves.”

“Oh, shoot! I should get dressed! What time will she get here?”

Nathan gives me a look, then gestures to his obvious erection. “And what do you expect me to do with this?”

I giggle. “I dunno, stash it under a blanket. I can’t keep Caitlin waiting, or worse yet, have her overhear me screaming on her son’s cock.”

He shoots me a disbelieving look, his mouth slightly parted in surprise. “You must be joking. In any case, it would make Caitlin’s entire year if she were to hear a woman screaming on her son’s cock.”

I can only stare at him in shock, not even sure where to start my line of questioning in response to what he just said.

Nathan cocks his head toward the other side of the room. “Move your sweet ass, baby, let’s go. You and Mom can catch up after I’m done with you.”

Like I can resist that body. “Okay, but we’ll have to be quick.”

“Whatever, it’s up to you, anyway, isn’t it? You can decide how many orgasms you want.” He drags me up and over his shoulder.

“Hey, where are we going?” I ask as I try to push myself up against his back.

“To a place where your screams can echo off the walls while I spank you for breaking my rule.”

My eyes widen. “I beg to differ. I can’t be held accountable for something I have no recollection of agreeing to.”

He snickers wickedly. “Too bad ignorance doesn’t absolve guilt.”

“Nathan, your hands are literally the size of spades, my backside is going to be in shambles!” I squeal in protest.

“Shows how much you know. Your ass has been kissed by my palm a number of times, and I can tell you that you fucking love it.”

Oh, wow. He’s spanked me before?

My core pulses with need, anticipating what it would feel like. “How many slaps are we talking about here?”

“Since you sassed me a lot today, at least ten. Maybe more.”

“One, pal, and I will most certainly not beg for more. What am I, a masochist?”

We carry on arguing right until we get into the shower and the warm spray hits my face.

That’s when my eyes open, and I feel a searing pain shoot through my chest.