Page 90 of Mistaken Intention

He got angry. He said he wasn’t, but there was no escaping it. His eyes gave him away, and I’ll admit, that worried me. Not in terms of what Drew might do, but because of what it meant for us.

I was being completely truthful with him, for once. I firmly believed – and I still do – that giving him back his phone wasn’t a good idea. Not yet. If I’d thought he might benefit from having it, I’d have called Hunter and asked him to bring it over. But, like I said to Drew, it’s early days, and while I want him to regain his memories, I don’t think he’s ready for the wealth of information his phone is bound to contain. Introducing something like that needs to be managed carefully… like everything else in his recovery.

The problem was, not only did my answer frustrate him, it also turned me back into his nurse. Our roles became clouded, just like I knew they would. It was one of the reasons I’d givenhim for not getting involved… not that it matters now, because we’re more than involved.

We’re in love.

That was why it was so hard, watching him struggle with the past he can’t remember. He might not be aware of exactly how much I know… but he realizes that my knowledge of him and his past is greater than his own. It feels like a void between us, even if he tried to patch over the cracks. His apology was heartfelt, and I know he meant every word he said, but until his memory returns, there’s always going to be a blank space neither of us can fill.

That’s what worries me the most in terms of our relationship. The longer this takes, the harder I think it will be for us to dance around that space; him in the dark, and me in the shadow of my lies. I’m scared that when we come out into the light, he won’t like what he finds…

I don’t doubt his love for me, but it’s new to him. There’s no history to it, like there is in my love for him. Will that new love be strong enough to survive when he knows what I’ve done? Will he be able to forgive me for keeping so much from him? Not just about us and our past together, but also about the future we can’t have, his family, his mother’s reappearance… and, most important of all, his daughter.

I shudder at the thought of how he might react and, even though he’s fast asleep, he tightens his grip on me, like he can sense my fear.

I caress his arm, brushing along it with my fingertips, wishing I could talk to him… wishing I could tell him the truth, and ask at least some of the questions that are rattling around my head; questions he can’t answer.

There are so many… which makes it even more bizarre that, for a brief moment this evening, I added another one. Because Icouldn’t help wondering what’s gone before… or rather who has gone before.

I hadn’t thought about that all day, not during all the times we’d made love, but after I’d said ‘yes’ to spending the night with him, he assumed I’d be okay with sleeping in his bed. We got to the top of the stairs and I hesitated when I realized where he was taking me.

He noticed, and to prove I was okay with it, I opened the door and let him lead me inside.

I may have been in his room before, but that was in my role as his nurse. This was different, and as I stepped through the door, waiting for him to close it behind us, the only thing I saw was the bed. It seemed to dominate the room, and my mind. Just as I expected, I was awash with questions. Had he brought other women here? Had he loved them like he loved me? Was Lexi among them? I struck the thought. Lexi had always told me they weren’t in love, that it had been a fling, and while I knew she’d been here after Maisie was born, she’d never mentioned visiting Drew here before then.

I stared at the bed, thinking about his past, realizing that, while I knew more than he did, I still knew very little. He’d had other lovers, but how many and over how long was anybody’s guess.

He came up behind me, snaking his arms around my waist, and dropped a kiss onto my neck.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

I turned in his arms, looking up at him, seeing the worry in his eyes. He cared. He really cared, and I smiled, resting against him.

“I’m fine, Drew.”

I was. He’d told me I was everything he needed… everything he wanted. I felt exactly the same, and we were living proof that the past doesn’t matter.

I brought my hands up, clasping his stubbled jaw and pulled his head down, my lips meeting his in a fiery kiss, ignited by our almost-argument, and fueled by that mutual need. He pulled me close, flexing his hips and letting me feel his erection. I don’t know why I was surprised by his arousal. It had been over an hour since we’d last made love, after all… and it seemed like an hour was more than enough for Drew.

“There’s something I need to show you,” he whispered, leaning up and looking down into my eyes.

“There is?”

He smiled, pulling me over to the bed. “Yeah…” He spun me around, so I was facing the mattress, then he stood right behind me, his body tight against mine, and reached around, unfastening my shorts, pushing them down over my hips. His lips brushed over my neck, while his hands came between us, cupping my ass, squeezing gently. “Alluring,” he murmured between kisses. “Beautiful… captivating… delightful.” He may not have been using the same words, but I knew where he was going, and a slight shiver coursed through me. He was leading me to ‘f’… or to the meaning of it, and although I’d loved everything he’d done to me, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be takenthere. I wasn’t ruling it out – not forever – but it felt too soon.

He must have felt my uncertainty, or at least sensed it.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You can trust me.”

“I do.”

“Then you know I won’t do anything you’re not ready for.”

I twisted my head around, looking up at him. “I know.”

He smiled, a wicked, sexy kind of smile and then bent me over the mattress, his middle finger tracing a line from the base of my spine, across my tight anus and further down, resting at my entrance.

“F stands for fingers,” he murmured as he pushed two of them inside me and I chuckled. I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he’d meant earlier. It didn’t make sense in the context he’d been using, and ‘fingers’ weren’t an adjective. But it didn’t matter. He was doing such incredible things to me, I didn’t care anymore.

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