Page 32 of Desire Me
“Yeah.” King took the bag from him, adding it to the three he already carried, and headed down the hall.
Rae turned as Saint stopped beside her. “We’re staying in the master bedroom?”
Her obvious nerves rankled. “You’restaying in the master,” he reassured her. “It’s easier to protect you if we’re all on one level. I’ll bunk on the couch.”
“I can’t kick you out of your bedroom, Saint.”
“And you think I’m such a prick that I’d make you share it with a stranger?” Emotion sharpened his words—anger, he realized. He wanted her thinking the best of him, not the worst. “I’m not forcing you to sleep with me, Rae. The bedroom is yours.”
Rae stared at him for the longest moment. An apology hovered on his lips, but she cut him off. “I’m sorry, Saint. This is probably as hard on you as it is me.”
“No, it isn’t.” He sighed. “Don’t apologize because I’m impatient.”
Something flickered briefly in her eyes. “I—”
“What?” he asked, softer than before.
She didn’t answer for a long moment. Saint held her gaze, refusing to look away. Whatever she saw, he wanted her to see.Know me, Rae. Trust me.It was all he could give her.
“Thank you,” she finally said. When she turned to trail King down the hall, he stayed where he was, staring hard out at the land in front of him, willing the ache in his chest to go away.
Chapter Sixteen
“Raegan!”
“Raegan!”
A scream escaped as Rae came awake, shooting up in the bed, her body covered in sweat and shivering. Saint rushed through the door, panic clear on his face. He dropped to the mattress and snatched her into his arms, his breath almost as fast as hers. “What is it? Bad dream?”
Sobs choked her.Raegan!
Saint rocked her against him. “It’s okay, cariño. Bad dream?” he asked again. “Memories?”
She rubbed her forehead against the soft cotton of his T-shirt, struggling to catch her breath. “I don’t know.”
A lie, but she couldn’t get past something in the back of her mind that screamed not to tell.
They’d been coming more frequently the past few days—faces, places, bits of conversation she couldn’t tie down in time. But this had been different, a voice in the dark, frightened, urgent. Calling.
Raegan!
A shiver shook her, and Saint dragged her closer against him. An unexpected shot of awareness sharpened her already rapid-fire senses, filling her nose with the scent of warm male and rich coffee. Saint’s skin felt like a furnace, hot beneath her desperately grasping hands. Was he hot everywhere? What would it be like to have that heat slide inside her? And for God’s sake, why, if she had to remember anything, couldn’t she remember that?
Big hands splayed across her back, their up-and-down sliding soothing the shaking from the nightmare, but rather than relaxing, she found herself snuggling closer, pressing her breasts to Saint’s rock-solid chest, her face into the crook of his neck. Sudden need roared down her spine, and if the clench of Saint’s hands on her back was any indication, she wasn’t the only one.
“Rae?”
His voice had gone gravel rough. Rae’s nipples peaked at the sound. And holy hell, it felt good, maybe the first truly good thing she’d felt since she’d been hit by that car.
She wanted more.
“Saint.” It was a statement, not a question—she wasn’t asking. She was feeling. She arched her back, pressing her aching breasts against the resistance of his pecs. A moan rose in the back of her throat.
And the next second, Saint was gone, so fast she fell forward into the void where his body had been. Shock jolted through her. “What the hell?”
Saint’s back was to her as he paced the length of the room. His dark sweatpants hugged his firm ass, and she couldn’t help willing him to turn around, to let her see if he’d been just as affected as she had been. But he stayed stubbornly turned away from her, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing over the stubble on his face. His message couldn’t be clearer: she’d stepped over a line she hadn’t even realized was there.
Willing her breath to calm, Rae pulled her knees up to rest against her chest, hiding the evidence of her own arousal, but she couldn’t hide the way her hand shook as she shoved it through the heavy fall of her hair. She should apologize, even opened her mouth to do so, but when nothing came out, she snapped it shut with a clack of her teeth. To hell with it. If he wasn’t interested in her any longer, it wasn’t her problem. She’d gotten the message loud and clear.
