Page 29 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

“Why won’t you talk to me? You said we’re friends, right?

” I purr, tugging my mask off. My hair falls in front of my brows, and I’m almost positive it looks a mess, reflecting everything I feel inside and out.

Raylen sets her phone down on the crate, letting the light illuminate a small portion of space between us.

She pulls back just enough to tilt her head and try to catch my attention.

"Why does it matter so much? Why can't I keep things separate from this?"

My tongue runs across the back of my teeth. I'd love to point out the fact that maybe it's because I know she's starting to feel for me the way I feel for her. If she didn't, then I wouldn’t have been the one she fell into when she felt like her world was crashing down around her.

Instead of voicing that, though, I give a grin and shift to stand at my full height so I can properly look down at her.

"Maybe if you won’t talk to me, you can pretend you’re someone else, and that person can?" I ask, my tone serious. Brushing her hair back from her face, I kiss her head softly, then slip the mask over her face, tightening the straps so it fits her properly.

The sight in front of me shouldn't make me feel so aroused, but there's no stopping my body's reaction. She’s gorgeous, her lips parted and damp from where she licked them, her eyes darting between mine—hooded and dark.

It likely has to do with the fact that she's wearing a piece of me right now, and she looks so incredibly natural in it.

“Wear a mask? You think that’ll help?” she scoffs .

“It will. You can pretend to be someone else.” I smile wider as her eyes crinkle, scrunching her nose slightly. “ It makes it easier.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I wear one every day,” I hum. I lean in closer, barely ghosting my lips over hers, but I pull away as she leans in, trying to close the gap.

It’s funny how she never wanted to kiss me, but now that she’s had a taste, it’s as if she can't stop herself from wanting more—just like I knew she would.

“Do you wear one with me?” she whispers, and I’m already bending down to kiss her throat when she asks it. The question makes me hesitate.

Do I?

Maybe. Maybe not. Each piece I’ve shown her is still a part of me… just not the whole truth.

“We were talking about my father. My brother has the resources to find him, yet he refuses.” I huff out a breath.

Here I go again, giving her more of myself than I bargained for, but I still have that idiotic hope that maybe it’ll help bring her closer to me as if sharing this burden will ease some of the pressure on my shoulders, letting someone else carry the weight with me.

I can’t bring myself to look at her, so I return my mouth to her neck, kissing down to her collarbone. Her head tilts towards the high-rise ceiling.

“You have a seriously confusing life.” Raylen breathes out, and I huff a laugh against her skin as I drag my hands down to her hips, teasing the waistline of her jeans.

“You have no idea how confusing it gets, baby.”

“Maybe he’s just trying to protect you,” she says softly.

My jaw clenches. Of course he is. That’s the problem.

“I don’t need protecting,” I mutter. “I need answers.”

I slowly push her shirt up, exposing her skin inch by inch. This was supposed to be my way of getting her to open up, but somehow, I’m the one unraveling.

“I need to know I’m more than just a piece in someone else’s story,” I huff, a little more aggressively than I intend to, so I lower my voice. “Do you know what that feels like?”

“Yes.” The word slips from her lips just as I press my body between her legs, letting the fabric fall to the crate.

I don't know if she’s responding to my question or the pressure of my thigh against her cunt. Either way, I need to know more.

“How?”

“I once gave everything to someone. I thought that if I loved him deeply enough, it would teach him how to love me back.” Her voice trembles. “Instead, he just… broke me.”

There it is—that crack in her armor. I want to tear it wide open.

“It sucks,” she whispers. “Being someone else’s character development.”

“Not if it’s the right person,” I say with a grin, but she rolls her eyes, and my fingers tighten around her thighs.

Don’t shut down. Not now.

I tap her leg, and she lifts her hips, letting me peel her jeans down. I toss them aside and let my hands glide along her bare thighs.

“Moe…”

That voice—soft and broken—makes my cock twitch.

“Too intimate,” she murmurs.

I growl under my breath.

We’ve been past intimate. We’re tangled, twisted, bound by secrets neither of us can say out loud. I’m trying everything to get her to admit it, and if I have to cross every line to make her see we belong to each other, so be it.

“I didn’t say 'me ’, baby. You’re the one making assumptions in that head of yours,” I tease, trying to keep my cool and not start planning how I could turn this place into a house to keep her in instead.

If she’s stuck here, then she’d have no choice but to confront the way she feels about me.

It’s a win-win—this place could actually be useful for once .

“Oh…” she says quietly as I guide her hand to my chest again, letting her fingers rise and fall over each of my muscles down to my abdomen.

I expect her to focus on the movement; she’s always so interested in my shirt coming off.

I’ve been hesitant, but now she almost looks lost in thought, as if this isn’t just another thing I’m trying to give her.

“If your brother has the resources to track down your father, could he locate other people, too? Like someone who went missing?”

I freeze, and her hand stills against my skin. That wasn’t random, that was personal.

I’m not the only one hiding something.

My pulse kicks hard in my throat.

“Yes, baby. With what he does, he can find anyone.”

I could clarify that I’d be the one doing the digging, but that would just lead to a conversation I’m not ready to have.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, her hand slips the rest of the way under my shirt, like she’s just now realizing what I’ve been trying to give her.

I was right to call her my little ray of sunshine—her touch is warm, almost scalding, as her palm drags across my abdomen and flattens against my chest. Every scar she brushes over makes my breath catch.

They’re healed, but they feel raw again under her fingertips—like she’s rewriting what they mean.

I step closer between her thighs, my fingers tracing her hips and then moving up along her ribs.

It’s funny how she said that talking about her past was too intimate, yet this is the closest I’ve ever felt to her.

Our breaths are shallow, and our hands explore each other as if we’re trying to memorize every detail.

“No fighting me tonight,” I mutter as I reach back and yank my shirt off. Her lips part—maybe to argue, maybe to tease—but I don’t give her the chance. I silence whatever smartass thing she’s about to say with my mouth, kissing her hard, pulling her attention from the fabric slipping to the floor.

Her gasp hits the back of my throat as my hand slides to the small of her back, guiding her gently to lie against the splintered wood beneath her. I lean into the pressure, our chests flush, my tongue sweeping past her lips to swallow the sound she makes.

I just want her.

“What’s the fun in that?” she laughs, tilting her head away. My mouth drags across her cheek to her ear. She’s still teasing me, but now it feels softer and less guarded. It’s subtle, but I can sense the shift.

Something is different.

Just in a few hours, I’ve already noticed a significant change in our dynamic.

I wish I could pinpoint whether it’s just my mind playing tricks on me or if it’s real, but either way, I don’t want it to go away.

I want to keep hearing her tease me, to keep seeing that ghost of a smile, and to know that it’s me she’s falling for.

“Let me show you,” I murmur against her skin.

I don’t want ghosts here. I want her—h er voice, her heat, her scent in this place. Every time I return, let her be what haunts me instead of the past.

Like instinct, she lifts her hips and her feet find my shoulders as she slips off that last unbearable barrier between us.

“It doesn’t always have to be dirty and rough,” I murmur, my voice hitching as my fingers slide between her folds. She’s soaked and so fucking warm it makes me dizzy.

I’ve been with women before—I won’t pretend otherwise—but no one’s ever made my body react like she does. It’s primal and raw. My blood thickens just to meet hers.

I brace one hand beside her head as her nails scrape down my stomach to my jeans, and fuck, the way she moves—it short-circuits every logical thought I had left.

“It can be smooth. Slow. It’ll still ruin you just the same,” I growl as her hand wraps around my cock, tugging once, firm, needy. My whole body goes rigid.

We’ve done this before, but somehow, it always feels like the first time .

“Too—”

“Shut up.” My voice is sharp as I push into her in one unrelenting thrust. I bottom out before I even exhale.

She cries out, and fuck, it’s everything.

Like a junkie desperate for the next hit, I already crave it again—but I hold back. That sound? It needs to melt into whimpers. Into soft moans and harsh exhales. Into nails dragging over sweat-slicked skin, the sound of her breath catching as her body clings to mine.

“Just feel,” I whisper against her lips.

I roll my hips back slowly, watching the way her body tries to pull me back in, fluttering around me like I belong there…like she doesn’t want to let me go.