Page 16

CHAPTER 16

SCARLET

I wake in the middle of the night.

Alarm filters through my pores. A chill infiltrates the sheets. Silhouettes form in the dark.

Someone is in here.

I scramble, reaching for the handgun beneath the pillow.

Smooth linen glides beneath my fingers. I stretch, grasping.

Where’d it go?

The pillow lands on the floor.

“Looking for this?”

I scream.

Silence.

Breathless, my vision adjusts, sharpening the shadows.

A dark figure reclines in the armchair.

“Nick?”

My throat constricts. I force myself to swallow.

Is he … “Are you angry?”

“Why would I be angry, love?”

I scramble from the center of the bed to the edge.

“You didn’t need to drug me. You could’ve asked, and I would’ve answered, and I wouldn’t have woken with a pounding headache and blue balls.”

“I needed the truth.” I dry my clammy palm on the silk sheet. “I needed to know you were telling me the truth.”

“Trust an issue, eh?”

“I’m sorry, I?—”

“Gave me an erotic memory for the record books. Trouble is, I don’t know what’s real. Don’t remember what I told you.”

“Not much.”

“I have a bad feeling that my memory of sinking inside you isn’t real and that perhaps I shot my load without ever entering heaven.”

I restrain my smile. “I don’t believe that happened.”

“Thank god for small favors. Let’s see…I felt your breast. True?”

The feel of his rough skin on my breasts hits with intense vividness. “Yes,” I breathe out.

“Perfect size. Fills my palm. And your hips…you ah…”

“Wanted to keep you talking.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you give me?”

“The men call it Mind Eraser.”

“Rohypnol? Date rape drug?”

“Version of it.”

“You packed it?”

Her slender shoulders lift. “Best to be prepared. I carry aspirin, too.”

I scratch my jaw. What’s important here?

“Do you trust me now?”

“I suppose.”

“Explain.”

“As long as our needs align, I believe I can trust you.”

“Quid pro quo. Can I trust you?”

“Yes.” My weak response reveals the truth. I shouldn’t have drugged him.

“Planning to drug me again, or did you learn everything you need to know?”

“I…won’t do it again.” Unless I need to.

“But you still have questions?”

“I thought of other things I want to know.”

“Why didn’t you ask them?”

Because my body’s reaction surprised me. I wanted you.

“Did you kiss me? Or is that an apparition?”

“It happened.”

My mouth is dry. I wet my lips, and it’s as if they are once again touching his. When our lips touched, I felt it through my core, and my hips involuntarily rocked against him as my center clenched.

“Here’s the thing, love, anytime you want to use my body, I’m game. There’s no need to drug me.”

“Does your head still hurt?”

“No. I took the aspirin someone left beside the chair.”

He sets the handgun, my handgun, the one he must have somehow known I keep beneath my pillow, on the side table, and flicks on the lamp.

“I’m sorry I drugged you.”

“Are you?” His brow crinkles. His lips… I swallow. It’s amusement. I swear that’s what I see.

“No.” I slink back, awaiting a blow. But he remains seated. Distant. “I needed to know.”

“Now you do. And I meant what I said. Anytime you want to use my body, I’m game.”

It’s too dark to see his eyes; I can only make out his shape. The rolled sleeves on his arms. His unbuttoned shirt. The watch is missing from his forearm, as if he began undressing for bed and stopped.

My nipples tease the thin fabric of my nightgown. Need and desire strum every delicate nerve ending.

My heart palpitates in my chest. Being with a man is my last hurdle. It’s one I haven’t attempted, in the interest of self-care. But I want him. There’s no denying the physical urge. And I do not shrink from fear.

“How about now? Are you game?”

He’s silent. One second. Two.

I shouldn’t have said anything.

“You want me? Right now?”

The chair creaks, and he rises.

“You’re not teasing, are you, love?”

That word. It’s so British. One he bestows on all, yet my insides flutter every time he says it. It’s why I hate it.

I shake my head as I search the dark.

He steps forward, and the details of his face emerge. His roughened goatee and angular chin. Ruffled hair. Deep-set eyes I can’t see, but I swear I feel.

“Shall I get a condom?”

“Can’t get pregnant, remember?”

“I’m clean.”

“I figured, or you would’ve just gone to get the condom.”

“Right.”

He steps forward, and I slip off the bed so I’m standing before him.

“So you do trust me then, eh?”

In answer, I lift my nightgown over my head and let it drop to the floor.

I hate fear, and running head-first into the source is how I attack what I hate.

“My god, you are lovely.”

He steps closer, close enough the energy between us is palpable. He tenderly tilts my chin upwards, and his lips fall over mine.

Soft, at first. A flutter.

His hand cups the back of my head, holding me, gently asking.

I open, and his tongue slips inside. Tentative.

His tenderness throws me. I expected him to throw me on the bed, to slam into me, and yet…I’m bared to him, and his interest is in my lips.

His kiss is slow and sweet. Exploratory. Soon, it steals all thought.