He opened a door and walked into a room that was larger than any place I’d ever lived. “Is this your bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“It looks like an apartment.”
“Do you want to change your clothes?” he asked, setting me on the bed.
“Into what?” I wore the same hospital gown I’d had on since yesterday and a pair of joggers that were at least two sizes too big.
“We’ll see what we can find.”
Two other men, who looked just like Jack, brought in medical equipment like what had been on the plane. “Where did all of this come from?” I asked, standing up to stretch my legs.
“I had it delivered.” Smoked walked over to me. “Siren, sit back down before you fall.”
“Settle yourself, you narky hole. I’m fine.”
“What did you call me?” He was trying so hard not to smile. I laughed.
“You heard me.”
“A narky hole?”
“That’s right.”
He swept me up in his arms like he had so many times in the last few hours and deposited me back on the bed.
“What is your name?” I asked the nurse, who was busy reconnecting my IV.
“Maureen.”
“Nurse Maureen—”
“Just Maureen is fine.”
“Okay, well, I do not need any pain medicine at this time. I feel perfectly fine.”
“You’re lying,” she muttered, looking over at Smoke. “And that one threatened me within an inch of my life if I didn’t take right good care of you.”
“Is it even legal for you to administer that to me?”
She nodded and inserted the liquid from the syringe into the IV port. “Jaysus fecking Christ,” I mumbled when the warm feeling coursed through my arm. “I don’t want this.”
“Excuse us,” Smoke said to the nurse, walking up to the bedside with something in his hand. “This should work to sleep in until we can get you some other clothes.” He waited until after she left the room before helping me out of the hospital gown and then into the shirt that had to belong to him, based on its size.
“Sweatpants on or off?”
“Off.”
He moved the shirt out of his way and tugged the joggers off the lower half of my body.
“You’ll need underwear,” he said, his gaze focused on my bareness.
“You mean knickers? I never wear them.” I looked into his eyes. Two things about that statement surprised me. First, that I remembered I didn’t, and second, that Smoke didn’t.
He pulled the shirt down and then covered me with the bedclothes. “I’ll be right back.”
I looked down at the artwork on the shirt Smoke had put on me. It was the letter T, and it looked like it was on fire. Blazing T, that was what Ms. Wynona had said. Smoke. Siren. My eyes drifted closed as I muttered other words to do with fire. Heat. Sex.
Where was that man? I wondered, again trying to force my eyes to remain open.
7
Smoke
When I walked into the bedroom, carrying the tray of food Ms. Wynona had prepared for Siren, I saw she was out cold. I set it on the table by the window and pulled one of the chairs over to the bedside.
Then I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and studied the woman sleeping in my bed. Her memory was coming back slowly, at least in bits and pieces.
Should I tell her now that what she remembered about us had been a one-time thing? She’d asked me how long we’d been in love. Love? Where had that come from? Siren and I detested one another.
But did we really?
Sure, she infuriated the hell out of me. Many times, I thought about wringing her damn neck. But that night, when our inhibitions were lowered, it had only taken a single touch before our mouths were fused together in a frenzied passion. It was a kiss so good, so hot, so everything, that it could only lead to sex.
I could try to convince myself I didn’t remember much about it, but I did.
Unable to resist the temptation now, I peeked under the blanket and sheet at Siren’s body. As I hoped, my t-shirt had ridden up, exposing her bare pussy.
I closed my eyes, remembering how she’d tasted that night when I spread her legs and devoured her with my mouth.
She’d said she remembered that sex between us was fantastic, and she was right. I leaned farther forward and kissed the bare skin of her hip and felt her fingers weave into my hair.
“Smoke, touch me,” she pleaded, pushing the bedclothes away and spreading her legs just slightly.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked into her eyes.
“Please,” she mewled.
“Open more for me.” I placed both of my hands on the inside of her thighs and used my thumbs to part her folds. I leaned down and ran the tip of my tongue from just above her opening, up to her clit. I pressed hard against it at the same time I eased two fingers into her wet heat.
She writhed as I continued my gentle assault and pulled back when I felt her tighten around my fingers.
“No,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.”
I licked through her folds again, reminding myself to take it slow. Give her pleasure. Nothing more. When her body clenched my fingers again, I didn’t stop.
“Come on, let go,” I murmured, watching her face as she did as I told her. Her eyes opened and bored into mine.
“Smoke…I…I…”
I moved up her body and kissed her, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. Whatever she was about to say, I couldn’t let her.
Tonight, I gave her pleasure, and in the morning, I’d tell her the truth. I had to. Nothing good could come of me continuing to let her believe there was something more between us than there really was.
“Will you stay with me?” Siren asked when I stood and covered her body with the sheet and blanket.
“I think you’ll sleep better if I stay in the other room.”
“For a little while, then?”
“Sure.” I walked around to the
