“My precious—” Her jaw dropped. There was a small flutter in her belly. Holy moly, was he jealous? She observed the way the scowl on his face deepened and how his fingers clenched and unclenched. Then that glow in his eyes came back, and the fluttering intensified. “If you wanted my company, well, here I am. Not like I can go away. But you leave me for a whole day without saying anything. Without telling me about what happened that day in my studio … what am I supposed to think?”
“It was a kiss, nothing more,” he said. “Friends can kiss.”
“Not like that.” Not in the way that made it difficult to forget or think of anything else.
“Think what you like.”
Part of her wanted to shrink back into that frightened, anxiety-ridden, self-conscious shell of a person she’d somehow turned into since the accident. But if she wanted answers—real ones and not the half-truths he’d been supplying her—she would have to take a step forward and take what she needed. “Fine. Kiss me again and tell me it doesn’t mean anything.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Do it, and I’ll never bother you again. Kiss me so I can remember that it didn’t mean anything.” Blood roared in her ears, and her heart thumped loudly against her rib cage. “Unless you’re afraid that I’m right.”
He growled softly—a sound that sent heat straight to her core—then grasped her by the waist and held her tight. She clung to him, scared that she would melt into a puddle as his lips came down on hers.
Dear Lord, it was better than a memory. Better than any kiss she’d had before and probably any she would have after this. His mouth moved hungrily over hers, making her body ache for more. She felt consumed, and every thought in her brain, and every feeling in her body distilled down to this kiss.
His hands moved to her lower back, pressing her against him, her mouth gasping as she felt his hardness press against her belly. Cross wanted her. Her. It sent her mind reeling to know he desired her like this.
His tongue licked against the seam of her lips, plundering her mouth as she opened up to give him access. He practically devoured her, and her overstimulated mind couldn’t process if she could smell or taste his chocolatey scent. Fingers thrust into her hair, giving her a gentle tug, and the desire in her core flared.
“Cross,” she moaned as his mouth moved lower to kiss her jaw, trailing down to her neck. He nibbled on the skin, his tongue leaving scorch marks in its wake. She wanted to touch him, and so she did. Her hands slipped under his shirt, feeling the warm skin over his taut muscles, kneading them until he moaned aloud.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her neck.
“For what?” She was dizzy and lightheaded.
“I’m sorry I can’t control myself around you. Sorry I couldn’t pretend you didn’t mean anything to me.”
His confession made her chest ache, and she wondered if it mirrored his feeling. “I knew it,” she breathed. It was there. That spark of something between them. “But I wish I could remember. Why won’t you tell me more about what happened?”
“It’s for your own protection, Sabrina,” he whispered. “Can you trust me on this? Just this one thing?”
That feeling in her chest was back—the one that told her he wasn’t going to hurt her. It was telling her to trust him. Maybe she should listen to it. For now, anyway.
“All right.” Pulling away from him, she grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the bed. “Please, Cross.”
His eyes turned dark. “Sabrina, you don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do.” She moved back until she felt the bed behind her, then pushed herself up. “I want this.”
“You’re not ready, Sabrina,” he said. “And I’m not a saint, I won’t be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” she said.
“Sabrina,” he said with a sigh as he folded her hands into his. “We haven’t … I mean, before your accident, we didn’t get a chance to make love.”
A curious feeling bloomed in her chest at those last two words. Make love. Not sleep together, not sex, not fuck. Love. “You’re right.” She rubbed her temple. “I do want to remember.”
There was a strange look on his face, but it was so fleeting she didn’t have time to process it. “And if you don’t, that’s all right too. You shouldn’t feel pressured.”
Perhaps the past should stay in the past. And it was time she moved forward and make a new life. And something new with Cross instead of clinging to what they had been, she should look forward to what they could be. “I still want you.”
He took in a sharp breath. “Me too.”
“Then come here.” She pushed herself back farther on top of the mattress. “I just need to touch you.” There was an urge driving her to get her hands on him. She desperately wanted to know what his skin tasted like. “And I need you to touch me. We don’t have to do … anything else.”
Cross looked like he was battling with himself. And he was slowly losing. Releasing a soft growl, he slipped his shoes off, climbed into bed, and crawled toward her, like a predator approaching its prey.
A thrill of excitement rushed up her spine as she stared into his face, her body going hot all over as she read the expression of pure lust there. He crawled over her, covering her with his big body, making her feel small. She closed her eyes as his head came down, capturing her mouth again in a soft, slow kiss.
His hands moved lower, one cupping her breast through the sundress and the other reaching down, skimming over the soft mound of her belly and lower still to cup her between the legs. She gasped as the heat of his hand seemed to penetrate the layers of clothes. His mouth suckled on
