“You don’t understand what this is like. Not remembering? I’m planning a wedding to this man I’ve wanted most of my life. Don’t I owe it to him—don’t I owe it to myself—to have the truth out there before we promise until death do us part?”
Even in the moonlight, I can see the pain in his eyes.
“I just need answers.” I lift my chin and move toward the back wall of the house, toward him. Immediately, I regret the decision because his lips curve into a wicked smile and he closes what distance is left between us. “I need the truth,” I whisper weakly.
“The truth? Is that what you really want, angel?” His deep voice dances over my skin like a caress. A little tender. A lot wicked.
I can’t reply. I’m too busy holding my breath. Too deep of an inhale might brush my breasts against his chest, and I’m afraid to touch him. Afraid of what it might make me feel.
As if he can read my mind, he takes another step closer, and when I step to the side to turn away, I’m against the wall and his body is against mine, his hot breath at my ear.
“Do you want to know what it was like between us?” he whispers.
“Yes.”
I realize my mistake when a groan rumbles from his chest. “Should I start with how wet you were every time I touched you? Or maybe how you begged me that first night?”
“I didn’t.”
“Have you been telling yourself some wicked rocker seduced you? That I tricked you into my bed? Sorry. You asked for the truth. You begged. Right there outside the club, you begged me until I ripped your panties off and you were too busy biting my neck to talk anymore. Is that what you’re hoping to remember? How you wanted me so badly you let me finger you out in the open, against that building where anyone could have seen?”
My breathing is uneven, my cheeks hot. When I press into his chest to put some distance between us, my traitorous hands curl into his shirt instead.
He makes a low growling sound at the back of his throat. His teeth nip at my earlobe. Lightning cracks in the sky behind him. “You might have forgotten me, but you still like dirty talk, don’t you? And maybe if I made you come now, you’d still scream my name. Because you always screamed my name, Hanna. Never his.”
I gasp. “You are horrible.”
“What are you really upset about? That you wanted me? Or that even as you stand here wearing his ring, you’re secretly hoping I’ll tell you about it. Secretly wishing you could remember all the details.”
“I don’t,” I bite out, the words edged with the sob I’m holding back. I shove him, and he steps away, but not because I’m strong enough to move him. I know better. But he steps back. He gives me that.
My legs are weak and I have to steady myself against the wall. I betrayed Max. Emotion riots in my chest, too much to contain. The worst is true. But the ache of arousal between my legs—that’s the worst betrayal of all.
“Tell me why I did it,” I say. “I need to understand.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks out toward the fenced area behind the patio, where Asher’s hot tub gurgles as it spills into the pool. “I made you a promise,” he says, his words measured. “I promised that when you made your decision, I would respect it. That if you took his ring, I wouldn’t try to change your mind.”
Seconds ago, I wanted his knowing eyes anywhere but mine, but now I wish he would look at me. I need to see the eyes of the man I feel this inexplicable connection to. The man I was considering leaving my fiancé for.
“I always knew you deserved better than me.” His voice is a deep rumble that tries to hide behind the distant thunder. “I hope he’s worthy of you. I sure as fuck wasn’t.”
Finally, he turns to me and takes my hands into his. His mouth is inches from mine, and his gaze rests on my lips. I wait for his kiss—wonder if I want it. Time snags on my indecision. Trips. Stutters. Slows to a crawl.
Lifting one finger at a time, he removes his cell phone from my grasp then steps away. He disappears into the darkness, his silence a promise I can’t remember him making and the ache in my chest a regret I don’t understand.
I walk around the side of the house, and drizzle fills the air and hits my hot cheeks. When it grows heavier, changing to rain, I don’t run for shelter. Pausing, I look up into the dark, moonless night and let the rain shower my fears.
I’m soaking wet by the time I get to the gym, and when I push through the double doors, Max is squatting in front of a leggy blonde, his hand curled around her thigh. It’s nearly nine p.m., and they’re the only two here.
“Take it deeper,” he says, his voice rough. “Yeah…just like that. Now really squeeze. Now go again.”
The girl adjusts the weights on her shoulders and drops into a low lunge. “That hurts,” she whines.
“Again,” Max says. He turns his head toward the door—and me—and his face lights up. “Ten more on that side,” he tells the girl. Then he’s coming over to me.
“Sorry I’m early.”
He doesn’t look upset about it, and I can only hope he’s not. After talking to Nate, I’m desperate to see Max again, to reassure myself that I haven’t lost him. Whatever I’ve done, if he wants me, if he loves me, we can get through this. Can’t we?