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“Oh.”
She seemed to buy it, even though it wasn’t the truth. He suspected whatever had flown past them was actually Saxon. This happened the last time they’d all blacked out due to being drugged.
The last time they’d all blacked out due to being drugged. Wow, who really got to say that twice in a lifetime? Even as long as all of his friends had all lived, it still seemed like a weird thing to say. But last time, Stella had been the one who got stuck in bat form. This time he was willing to bet it was Saxon. That would explain why he’d gone missing on his wedding night.
Josie Lynn shivered, her whole body vibrating against his. The subtle movement was enough to make him groan.
“Are you okay?” he murmured, moving his face closer to hers. He could feel the warmth of her breath and the sweet scent of the wine she’d drank on her lips.
“I’m—I’m fine.” But she shuddered again.
He could now smell her arousal and he couldn’t stop himself. His hands found her hips and pulled her even closer. She gasped, and for just the briefest moment, he thought she was going to surrender and allow her body to stay pressed tightly to his. That she might even kiss him. Or let him kiss her.
But instead, she pushed at his chest with a strength that surprised him, although he wasn’t sure why. She was a tough cookie. He knew that.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to ignore his disappointment, because he knew she wasn’t telling the truth about being okay. He could smell fear on her, too, though that was harder to focus on than her desire.
He moved away from her, even though he really didn’t want to, and flipped on the light. They both blinked as their eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.
She remained against the door, her back tight against it and her arms crossed around her, like she was cold. Or truly freaked-out.
“What’s wrong?” he repeated.
She still didn’t answer for a moment, though he could also see that she was notably pale. She was really shaken, although in what he’d already learned was Josie Lynn fashion, she was trying to hide it.
“I hate things with wings, okay? Birds, bats, big flying bugs.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, but her expression clearly stated she hated admitting that fear.
Any fear, he suspected.
“Well, we all have things that freak us out.”
She shot him a skeptical look. “And what freaks you out?”
He didn’t even have to hesitate. “I hate enclosed spaces. And being constrained in any way.”
She dropped her arms, immediately distracted from her fears by the admission of his. “Really?”
He nodded.
“But you seemed okay with being in that sex swing thing earlier.”
“I was faking. I was absolutely freaking out.”
“Good acting,” she said, sounding truly impressed.
“Thanks.”
Since they were talking candidly, he decided to keep the confessional going.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Some of her reserve returned, and she crossed her arms back over her chest. Always protecting herself. Always acting strong. Even when she was unnerved—like right now.
She nodded, even though he knew she didn’t really want to answer any questions.
“Why did you kiss me at The Dungeon?”
“To irritate Obsidian,” she said in a way that stated that she clearly hoped that was answer enough and this would be the end of Twenty Questions.
Too bad. She wasn’t going to be that lucky.
“You were affected by our kiss. I could feel it. And you already know I’m very, very attracted to you.”
He expected her to deny his claim, but instead she just nodded. “I am attracted to you.”
Shit, that wasn’t even an enthusiastic admission and he was as hard as tempered steel.
“You confuse me,” he admitted. “One minute, I feel like we are actually communicating, and you’re almost comfortable with me. Then the next you shut down and are distant.”
She gave him a helpless look, like she had no idea what he wanted her to say.
“For example, why did you seem fine with my being protective of you when that creepy Donald was talking to us at Madame Renee’s, yet when I stepped in with that drunken jerk on Bourbon, you were angry with me?”
She looked away from him, and for a moment, he just assumed she would tell him she didn’t know. Or that she didn’t need to explain herself, but then her vivid blue eyes found his.
“Because I liked you protecting me too much.”
He hadn’t expected that.
“Why? I wanted to protect you. I like protecting you.” He liked it a lot. Probably he liked it too much, if truth be told, especially given she was a woman he barely knew. And human to boot.
“Because I find it’s just a lot better if I take care of myself.”
Suddenly he realized why she could go from soft and aroused to prickly in seconds flat.
She’d been hurt. Badly hurt from the looks of it. She didn’t trust him—or any man, he was willing to bet.
Why hadn’t he realized that earlier? Wasn’t that why he tended to keep himself distant from women and relationships, too?
“I can understand that,” he said softly. “Believe me, I can. But we all need help sometimes. And we all have to trust someone once in a while, too, even if it’s hard.”
She laughed then, the sound hard and bitter. “That’s kind of rich coming from you. You are telling me to trust you, but you think I’m a thief and a liar.”
Drake could easily understand her incredulity with him. He stepped closer to her, but left a few inches of space between them, not wanting her to feel cornered. That was the last thing a woman who didn’t trust men—or maybe anyone—needed.
“I stopped thinking you were involved in the drugging and robbery basically before we even left Zelda and Saxon’s.”
“Why’s that?” she said, her tone no softer, no less filled with sarcastic mistrust.
“Because you could have run at any point tonight. Hell, you could have darted and left me to fight a gator if you wanted, but you didn’t. I know you want answers just as much as I do.”
She stared at him for a moment, and then her arms dropped back to her sides. Her guard was coming down a little, but she clearly didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t want her to say any more. He just wanted to touch her. Reassure her that she could trust him. He wanted to continue to protect her. He wanted to make love to her.
