Page 33 of Desire Me
Suddenly she couldn’t stand just sitting there, waiting for him to turn around and look at her with pity in his eyes. She slid out of the bed.
“Where are you going?” Saint asked as she hurried past him.
“Bathroom.”
She shut the door firmly in his face and gave herself a minute to get steady on her feet, then crossed to the shower. The blast of hot water swept away the cobwebs of her dreams and the stench of sweat from her fear, but nothing could erase the embarrassment of forcing herself on a man who obviously didn’t want her, so she thought about her nightmare instead. That voice. That name—Raegan. Was Raegan her? It made sense. Rae, Raegan. But why had the person been calling her? And why had the sound of her own name filled her with such terror?
As suds washed her body clean, she felt a piece of herself click into place—her first name. Raegan. But Raegan what? And why couldn’t she remember? Oh, she knew what Leah had told her, all about swelling and physical healing andgive it time, but the more flashes she got, the more she wondered if it wasn’t something other than a massive TBI that had her brain locking away memories.
The bedroom was empty when she stepped out in the thick robe that had been hanging on the back of the bathroom door. The fabric smelled like Saint, and she let herself breathe in the scent as she retrieved yoga pants and a long-sleeved tee of the softest cotton, and underwear. She abandoned her slippers in favor of a pair of socks with the wordsI Heard You and I Don’t Carewritten down the sides. Apparently she had a thing for snarky-ass socks. She wasn’t sure why, but the feeling that they suited her personality, that the sarcasm felt “right” made her smile. She was still smiling when she sauntered into Saint’s massive kitchen.
The room was full of natural light from the French doors and long windows along the back wall that looked out onto a patio all set for a party, it looked like—a huge built-in grill and pizza oven, a wide table built for a horde of people, an enormous circular firepit that could toast fifty marshmallows at once. She bet the spot was perfect for sunsets along the horizon at the end of the field beyond the house, watching the sun go down and the stars come out. For now, though, she turned away in favor of the black oak cabinets and warm butcher-block counters of the eat-in kitchen. Saint stood on the other side of the enormous island, his back to her—again—as he flipped something that sizzled in the skillet. Bacon. Ah, lovely bacon. She salivated at the smell of frying pork as she rounded the island to pour a cup of rich black coffee from the half-full pot.
“Half-and-half is in the fridge,” Saint said without a glance, focusing instead on scooping long strips of crispy bacon from the skillet onto a paper towel–covered plate. So apparently they weren’t talking about what had happened in the bedroom.
Fine, whatever.
Yeah, sarcasm definitely fit her.
She shrugged and began to spoon sugar into her cup, then retrieved the cream, pouring until the coffee was the pale tan she’d learned she liked in the hospital. By the time she was finished, Saint was carrying plates of eggs and bacon to the farmhouse-style table that already held a pan of biscuits. Her stomach rumbled.
They dug in without speaking. Another thing Rae had learned about herself in the hospital: she loved food, and she wasn’t afraid to devour it. No delicate I’ll-just-nibble-rabbit-food-like-a-delicate-flower habits for her, no ma’am. She wanted her belly full and enjoyed every single bite. Saint watched her, amusement and something that resembled satisfaction in his eyes as she matched him biscuit for biscuit till the pan was empty.
“What?” she finally asked, sitting back in her chair, refilled coffee cup warming her hands.
Saint outright grinned, the one that made her stomach flutter. “Just enjoying satisfying your appetite.”
“One of them, at least.”
Damn, she hadn’t meant to say that; it just popped out.
And the grin went bye-bye. “Rae—”
“No.” She waved his words away. “Never mind.” Hastily rising, she carried her dishes to the sink. Apparently she could keep some secrets, but not the ones that would save her from embarrassment.
She didn’t hear Saint come up behind her at the sink, just jumped when his palms landed on her hips. They tightened when she tried to scoot away. “Rae.” A sigh escaped him, giving her the distinct impression that she was trying his patience, but then his body pressed against her back and a hard ridge made itself known at the base of her spine. Her breath caught in her throat. “I wasn’t rejecting you,” he murmured against the side of her neck, pulling goose bumps up along her skin. “I just don’t want you rushing into anything—no matter how much I want those things—before you’re sure.”
Ignoring the tightening of his grip, she turned in his arms until that ridge was cushioned against her yielding stomach. “Isn’t that my choice?”
Saint stared into her eyes for a long time, worry a vee between his brows. Finally he admitted, “You’re right, it is.”
Her body softened at the acceptance in his words. “Then all you have to worry about is whether you’re on board, Saint.” And the push of his arousal against her felt like he was. She pressed her pelvis forward, savoring his hardness. “If I want something to make me feel good, by God, I think I deserve it after all the hell I’ve been through.”
He nodded, but his gaze was zeroed in on her lips, his hazel eyes drowsy with distraction—the good kind. Still, he didn’t make a move.
She wasn’t so hesitant. “Will you kiss me?”
The breathless voice that escaped her sounded so foreign, and for a moment she wondered how many sides of herself she no longer recognized, but then Saint’s head lowered and she shut everything off in favor of the full lips coming ever closer to hers.
Buzz!
Saint jerked, his mouth no more than a hair’s breadth from hers.
Buzz!
A string of what she assumed were curse words, all in Spanish, flew from his mouth. He glanced toward the security panel she’d noticed last night. Whatever he saw there had more curses escaping.
“Company?”
