Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I tear myself away from her, stumbling back like I’ve been punched. Her lips part in shock. Her chest rises and falls fast.
“Ledger?” she whispers. “What, what’s wrong?”
Everything.
Absolutely everything.
I drag a hand over my face, chest heaving.
“You’re injured,” I choke out roughly. “Confused. You don’t remember anything.”
She steps toward me, hurt flickering in her eyes. “But I wanted this.”
“You think you did,” I cut in gently. “Because you’re lookin’ for something steady. Something familiar. And your brain picked me.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t what I want.”
“It does,” I rasp. “Kelly, you don’t remember us. You don’t remember what we were. You don’t remember the night we ended things. You don’t remember the shit I said that hurt you.”
Her breath catches.
“So until you do?” I state, forcing the words out like shards of glass. “I’m not takin’ advantage.”
She looks stunned. “You’re not taking advantage.”
“You’re vulnerable,” I give her the truth. “And I’m not the kind of man who takes from a woman when she’s not in her full mind.”
Her voice trembles. “I’m not broken.”
“I didn’t say you were,” I whisper. “But you’re healing. And you deserve more than me makin’ a move on you when you’re missing half the story.”
She swallows, stepping closer again. “Then fill in the gaps.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“No?”
“You need to remember on your own.” I look away. “Otherwise I’m telling you what to feel.”
Silence falls like a weight. She stares at me for a long, aching moment. Then her shoulders slump.
“I don’t understand you,” she whispers.
“Neither do I,” I mutter the God’s honest truth.
A humorless laugh bursts from her lips. She wipes at her eyes. “Ledger, I kissed you because I wanted to. Not because I’m confused. No matter what our past is, I wanted to feel this.”
“I know.”
It’s the truth. It’s also the problem.
Her bottom lip trembles. “Did we ever kiss before?”
The images hit me like a fist. Her hands in my hair. Her mouth soft and eager beneath mine. Her laughing against my lips in the bakery kitchen. Her breathless moans in the dark of her apartment.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “We did.”
Her breath shivers out.
“And?” she asks. “Was it like that?”
I meet her eyes and I can’t lie. “No,” I say. “It was better.”
Her cheeks flush. “Then why?”
“Because you won’t remember this tomorrow,” I state. “Or you might. Or you might not. And I won’t let our next first kiss happen when you’re not whole.”
She steps closer again, voice small. “But I feel whole with you.”
The words hit me right in the ribs.
I reach out and brush a hand down her arm soft, slow, careful.
“I want this,” I whisper. “Don’t get it twisted. I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in a long damn time.”
Her lips part.
“But when we kiss again?” I step closer, lowering my forehead to hers. “It’ll be because you remember everything. Not because your body filled the blanks your mind couldn’t.”
Her breath hitches. “That’s not fair.”
“I know.”
“And you get to decide that?”
“No,” I say softly. “I get to choose how I handle you. And I won’t let myself break you again.”
She closes her eyes. For a moment, the world is just the two of us, breathing the same slow, painful rhythm. Then her voice cracks.
“What if I never remember?”
I cup her cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. “Then I’ll make you fall for me again.”
Her eyes snap open, stunned.
I mean it. Every damn word.
Before she can say anything, before I do something stupid like kiss her again, my phone buzzes violently in my pocket. I pull back, jaw tightening, and answer.
“Yeah?”
Mellow’s voice is sharp. “We got a sighting.”
My blood goes cold. “Where?”
“On the highway. Same build. Same movement pattern. Following the road toward the foxtrot house which is where I assume you took her.”
“Coming here?” I growl.
“Most likely.”
Rage floods me.
I look at Kelly.
Her eyes are wide, scared — but underneath the fear, there’s trust.
Trust in me.
“Riot?” she whispers.
I tuck the phone away and step forward, pulling her gently into my arms. Not too tight. Just enough that she feels anchored.
“Grab what you need,” I murmur against her hair. “We’re movin’ again.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt. “Riot what if they’re coming for me again? Why?”
I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. “They are,” I tell her the truth, voice low and lethal. “But they’re gonna find me instead.”
Because they can wipe her memories clean, but they can’t erase what I feel for her.
And they’ll die before they get close enough to try again.
Fourteen
Kelly
Pieces of my life are returning in flashes and every one of the good ones leads back to him.
* * *
Riot moves through the safe house with a quiet, terrifying intensity. The same kind of stillness found in predatory animals right before they strike. He checks the windows. The locks. The cameras. The hallways.
Twice.
His jaw is set, his shoulders tight, and his hand hovers near the gun holstered at his hip with a familiarity that somehow doesn’t scare me.