“Pretending that you don’t know who you are won’t save you.”
“What? Save me from what?” I questioned, eyebrows taking a sharp dive to the bridge of my nose. He did some sort of clicking thing with his tongue and sipped his coffee. His haunting eyes glared at me through steam, the smirk never leaving his face.
Steam rose from the cup when he set it on my stand and turned to me. I watched him lick his lips and come to my side. My eyes shifted from his cool expression to his fingers. I stared down at my shoulder when two fingers slid down my arm to the tips of my fingers. Silence except for the beeping and the loud thump in my chest occupied the room. I stared at his face unable to speak while he held the tips of my fingers in his hand. The pillow behind my head kept me from moving away from him when he lowered his lips to mine.
“Keep it up. I’m actually enjoying the fuck out of this. Just thinking about starting over makes my dick hard,” he said with admittance to my lips with soft warm words. My lips stayed in a thin, straight line while he kissed me. A grunt fell from my chest when I jerked in pain, trying to move away. Something pulled me to him. Something besides the cologne, and I knew without a doubt, he was my husband. Good Lord! I was broken and stupid.
“Please tell me I’m not married to you,” I said, pleading eyes boring into his while I tried to use my broken hand to sit up. My so called husband just stood there, not even offering to help. I struggled on my own until I reached the control for the bed.
“Oh yes. I own you, Gabriella Pierce,” he said while assuring me with some sort of creepy, power trip, tone. Hoarse and raspy. What the hell?
“Wait. You own me? You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t even know your name.” Unbelievable. If this guy thought for one second I was about to bow down to him, he had another think coming. No way.
Again he moved closer to my lips and I let him. By instinct, my eyes lowered to my lap. He lifted my chin with one finger and kissed me again. Pain moved down my neck to my spine. Once again I let him kiss me with a warm, soft kiss. Fire and ice, burning my lips.
“I own you, I own the girls, and I own the house. I pay for it. You work for me. I pay you, and … the name’s Paxton. You can call me Paxton. Of course I’m sure you already know that, but hey. Let’s play games, shall we?”
This wasn’t real life. People didn’t really act like this. Who in the world did this guy think he was? My mind blurred with thoughts, but no memories. I didn’t know this guy from the nurses. His hand caressed my tender ribs, and his lips once again met mine. My breath caught in my lungs when his thumb brushed back and forth over my sore body. My hip and my side. I’m not sure if my lips parted on their own or if he did it, but there was definitely tongue.
“Hello, Mrs. Pierce. How are you feeling?” a different doctor from before asked, interrupting the kiss. I was so confused. One second this guy was a threat, and the next he was intoxicating. Why couldn’t I just remember? Paxton took a step back, leaving me with a kiss to my forehead. That hurt, too. Everything hurt.
“I would say I’ve been better, but I don’t know if that’s the truth or not.”
“Yes, Dr. Mirage and I spoke. Unfortunately, I’m not a neurologist. I’m your orthopedic doctor. You’re a lucky girl.”
“So, I’ve been told. How long have I been here?”
“You’ve been in an induced coma for nine days. You suffered a ruptured spleen, a couple broken bones, and a serious head injury. Your brain was swollen severely. That’s why you’ve been in a coma. Your brain needed the time to recover. Like I said. You’re very lucky. All of this is going to heal. You’re still here and that’s all that matters,” the doctor said while his hand waved down my body, demonstrating all that needed to heal. Everything.
My memory was working just fine from coma on. I remembered all the things that Paxton said he owned. My head snapped to him, and I grimaced in pain. Gah. Stop doing that. Dark green eyes stared back. A look of pure spite was perceived from the look in his eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was a smirk, or spy-like. Like a predator, waiting for me to slip so he could catch me.
“You said girls. What girls?” I questioned with my eyebrows turned in sharply.
Paxton crossed one arm over the other. “Our daughters, Rowan and Ophelia.”
“Hi, we’re here to take you down for another scan,” a male nurse said as he entered with a girl carrying a chart. My chart. My orders.
“We’ll talk later, Love. Go get better so we can go home,” Paxton said with a wink over the brim of hot the coffee cup.
My eyes rolled to his while my bed was wheeled out. This was all wrong. It didn’t feel right. Rowan? Ophelia?