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“Why are you doing all of this? Cooking dinner and bringing me tea? Offering to let me stay at your place?”
She could’ve sworn his neck flushed with color, unless it was an illusion borne out of the room’s uneven lighting.
“You are very important to me.”
Important how, she yearned to ask. Important in the construction of a domestic cover story for another disturbed American male?
The Kendall to his Bundy.
No, she couldn’t see it, and with the alcohol slowly leaving her, she was certain that she had not been drugged.
Gently, he took the mug out of her hands and placed it on the nightstand, his eyes never leaving her. Kenna pressed her back into the headboard though she wanted to lean into him. Her mind acted against her heart.
Dr. Merino wasn’t offended by her reproach. His fingers ghosted along her arm, inciting a shiver, trailing to her shoulder and down again where his hand meshed with her own. Flesh on flesh, it was impossible to discern desire from danger. He leaned in closer, closer still, until their lips met and her pulse pounded and mouth burned from the soft yet searing caress. His kiss was slow and thoughtful, like he was mulling over a diagnosis. The tender manner in which Dr. Merino kissed her and held her hand left Kenna casting doubts on the validity of his former lovers’ testimonies.
How could a man capable of inspiring this level of sentiment have also been capable of such malicious things?
His lips against hers electrified the air and stopped time. There was no room within him to administer such genuine love and to act without a heart.
Chest hitching, Kenna broke away from their kiss. She peered into his midnight eyes, blazing like a blood moon, and an ache spread through her that fractured her voice.
“I have to tell you something.”
He’d known the night had been an illusion, far too perfect to be real, and it shattered with her words. If Kenna’s ashen complexion was any indication, she wasn’t about to profess her love for him.
Dayton had gotten comfortable with the idea that she knew about Alex. Simply put, he had no other choice. Yet the idea that she possessed knowledge of anyone else had him balling a fist into the sheets.
How long had she known, and why had she waited until this moment to say something? Unless her discovery had been more recent.
The trauma interview. He plucked at his flannel and prayed Audrey Dresden didn’t tumble from her mouth.
Paranoia summoned Dayton to his feet but he refrained from pacing. He faced Kenna, his arms crossed, and fought to ignore the sweat collecting at the nape of his neck as he fixated on her countenance, brimming with disappointment.
Hugging her knees to her chest, she whispered, “I know things about you. Things beyond Alex.”
“What do you mean?”
“Please don’t be angry.”
“Tell me what you know,” Dayton demanded, regretting his tone as she flinched.
Kenna fled the bed and stood on the opposite side. She mirrored his posture, arms crossed. Two feral animals squaring off.
Except when she opened her mouth to speak, eyes glassy, she bolted for the door.
But he was closer.
He was right behind her, forcing the door shut with one hand and bracing the other around her throat. He’d long awaited this, to feel the press of her body against his.
Though, the circumstances could’ve been better.
“Let me go.”
She sounded calm but his palm detected her thick swallows and hammering heartbeat.
Dayton spoke into her hair, menacing, “I’ll do no such thing until you tell me precisely what it is you think you know.”
“When we started working together, I was paranoid. I thought I’d feel better if I asked around and did some research.”
