The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7) (45 page)

“Dios,” I gasped before screaming, “¡Oh, Dios mío!
Asher
...”

I swear he passed out the very moment he finished, because he remained motionless on top of me, his forehead pressed to my shoulder. But then I stroked his back and he stirred.

“Don’t move.” He wrapped his hand around my hip even as he sat up. “I’m just going to get rid of this. Be right back.” He glanced back at me as he stood. “Do you need anything?”

I checked between my legs, and winced. “Yes, please.”

With a nod, he disappeared into the bathroom. I listened to the sink water run and turn off again before he returned to me and handed over a washcloth he’d wetted with warm water.

“Gracias.”

I cleaned myself and he sat beside me, watching with drowsy but intent eyes. With any other guy, that probably would’ve weirded me out. But I don’t know. With Asher, it was different. Intimate. Almost bonding. I wasn’t sure how to explain it.

When I was finished, he took the washcloth from my hand and tossed it across the room toward a laundry basket full of dirty clothes.

“You’ll stay the rest of the night?” he asked, turning back to me.

My resistance was already shot to hell, and I was beyond relieved that he wasn’t shoving me out after he’d gotten what he wanted, so I nodded. “Sí.”

“Good.” He crawled back onto the mattress with me and under the covers, curling himself behind me as he wrapped an arm across my waist. “I like sleeping with you.”

I closed my eyes and told myself this didn’t mean he forgave me. None of the beauty that had just transpired between us meant anything. He was still drunk. He could, and probably would, regret everything in the morning. I shouldn’t get my hopes up.

But as I snuggled back into him, I sighed and began to get sleepy comfortable.

Right before I dropped off, I murmured, “I love you,” in English.

His arm around my waist tightened a fraction, tugging me against him just a little bit firmer.

But he never said it back. And as much as it made the raw ache in me grow, I hadn’t expected him to repeat the sentiment.

I slept in later than I intended to. But it was okay, Asher was still passed out, breathing deeply, next to me. I had plenty of time to sneak out before he woke. Except I wasted a couple seconds gazing at him with utter awe, unable to believe I’d gotten one more night with him.

He was so freaking beautiful.

I loved how his lashes rested with such tranquil serenity against his cheekbones, and his lips just barely parted to let out each even breath. His hair swept crazily across his forehead, dark locks mixing in with blonder highlighted threads, and I couldn’t help myself. I reached out to sweep it gently across his forehead.

And of course, the silken locks called to me, begging for more. So I combed two fingers through a few more pieces. My gaze wandered down over his golden bare shoulders to where white sheets were tucked up under his armpits.

I liked knowing he was a side-sleeper. I was a side-sleeper, too. Maybe in some alternate reality, we could’ve actually side-slept
more
nights together, spooning throughout our sleep.

But in this reality, he was still pissed at me for being a fucking liar, and he’d only slept with me because he’d been drunk and horny off his ass. And I really needed to get out of here before I woke him and stirred up a whole hornets’ nest of awkward.

I didn’t want to know if he was pissed at me for taking advantage of him in his non-sober state last night. No, I was going to end this on a happy, beautiful note, with him sleeping peacefully and my body all deliciously sore from his recent lovemaking.

Grabbing my clothes as soon as I slid as quietly and easily from the bed as possible, I dressed in the half dark and clutched my shoes to my chest so I could tiptoe toward the stairwell.

But from behind me, a sleep-clogged voice asked, “Leaving so soon?”

I gasped and whirled around, slapping my hand over my heart. “Oh, shit. You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” he said. His voice still raspy, he sat up and ran his hands through his hair to cup the sides of his head. The sheets fell to his waist, revealing a warm, toned chest that made my mouth water.

I wanted to return to him so bad, crawl back under the covers and cuddle into his heat, stay for the rest of my life. But...yeah.

Reality was such a bitch.

And in reality, he winced, reminding me he must be suffering from a hangover and was truly sober for the first time in hours. Sober and cognizant. Which was why I was sneaking out and should stay away from his bed and delectable body...before he kicked me out and yelled at me for being a tramp who couldn’t keep her hands off him when he was vulnerable and out of his own mind.

I winced, feeling his pain. “Sorry, I wanted to be out of here before you woke.” Shifting my weight from one bare foot the other, I bit my lip. “In case, you know, you regretted last night and didn’t want to see me.”

He stopped clutching his head and dropped his hands to his lap so he could look at me. When he said nothing, I shifted again, growing more uncomfortable than ever.

Looking up at the ceiling, I cleared my throat and asked, “So, do you? Regret it?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and I couldn’t handle the suspense so I shifted my gaze back to him. He wasn’t reassuring me, telling me he regretted nothing, so that had to mean he did. He must wish last night between us had never happened.

The tears and devastation moved in. I hoped I could keep them at bay long enough to leave before he saw any, but I also wanted to stick around another second in case, by some miracle, he decided to...I don’t know...
forgive
me, or something.

But then he went and admitted, “I’m not sure.”

I blinked, wondering at first if I’d heard him right. Then I shook my head.

Had he just said
I’m not sure?

What the hell? I scowled, suddenly no longer crushed, but just plain pissed. But he
wasn’t sure
? Surely, he knew whether he regretted having sex with me or not. Hell, the only reason a nice guy like him wouldn’t be reassuring me by now
had
to be because he
did
regret it.

So, why didn’t he just grow a pair and tell me that already?

“You know,” I muttered, glaring hard, the pain and anger bringing out my sassy. “I realize I fucked up. Bad. I lied to you for over a month. I betrayed your trust. Hurt your feelings. And tricked you in the most horrendous way imaginable. And I am
sorry
for that. I regret it like hell. That last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt
you
. If I could take that back, I would, but...” I shook my head. “I don’t know if I’d do
everything
again differently a second time through. Because if I did, I would never have gotten to know you as well as I did. I never would’ve learned what an...amazing person you are. I...fuck, I wouldn’t have fallen for you as hard as I have. And I can’t regret that part. But I also can’t let you
use
my feelings and guilty conscience against me again. The next time you’re horny and want sex from me, it has to
mean
something.
Got it
?”

He drew in a tormented breath and ran his hand over his face as he averted his gaze. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I got it.”

“I’m going to go,” I said as I whirled around, but a strange empty spot above the stairwell opening caught my attention.

Frowning, I whirled back. “Where the hell is Mozart?”

His face shot up, and his expression crumbled. “He’s gone.”

Gasping, I staggered back a step. Clutching at my chest, I blinked at him, trying to make sense of his words. “What do you mean
gone
?” The little critter had been so full of life, and Asher had taken good care of him. He couldn’t have just...
died
. Could he?

“I mean he’s fucking
gone
,” he snapped, scowling at me for pressing the subject. “I came home, his cage was open, and he was nowhere in the apartment.”

“But...” My brow wrinkled as I shook my head. That made no sense. “He’s a
squirrel
. There was no other way for him to get out of this apartment except through that doorway up there, and he couldn’t have opened that himself.”

“Well, then he must’ve gotten free when I was coming in or going out. I don’t fucking know.”

I sent him an I’m-not-buying-it glance. “And you don’t think you would’ve noticed him darting out between your legs when you opened the door?”

“I told you, I don’t know. I just know I came home, and he was gone.”

Chewing on my lip, I turned back to study the bare stretch of wall where Mozart’s cage had once hung. “I think someone else let him out.”

Asher let out a tired sigh. “Impossible. No one else has been here...except you.”

I turned back slowly. “It wasn’t me.”

With a scowl, he growled, “I know that. So,
who
are you suggesting broke into my apartment to—” When he saw the answer on my face, he groaned. “Oh, Jesus. Are you back on the conspiracy theory that my dad’s out to get me?”

“It makes sense,” I said defensively. And it did...to me.

“Why would he just let Mozart go instead of, I don’t know,
killing
him? And why—if he did all the other things you think he did—would he bother with such stupid irritating stunts when he could come at me with something so much more lethal, like a gun?”

“Because he’s a bully. Bullies chip and pick at scabs until they get to the meat of the wound underneath. They rarely come at you with an outright assault unless they know without a doubt they’re bigger and stronger and can take you. You’re not a seven-year-old kid any longer; he’s trying to find your weaknesses. And he probably didn’t outright kill Mozart because who the fuck could actually catch that wily little thing
to
kill him? Why bother even trying when it would be just as devastating for you to find him gone?”

And I could tell it was devastating for him. His green eyes went shuttered with pain as he glanced at the spot where Mozart’s cage had hung. It must’ve really upset him if he’d already taken the whole thing down...too painful to look at.

I hugged myself, glancing at the spot as well. “I hope he’s okay.”

Asher sniffed and shook his head. “He’s probably living it up in some nice park full of plenty of trees and nuts.”

Or he was dead, I silently worried.

Glancing at me with a scowl as if he’d read my thoughts, he muttered, “Thought you were leaving because you’re pissed at me.”

I sighed. “You’re the one who can’t decide whether you regret sleeping with me or not.”

His green eyes went flat with anger. “Oh, well,
excuse
me for a being a little confused. But you hurt me more than anyone has ever hurt me, and that scares the fuck out of me. No one’s ever gotten that close to me with me being so completely unaware of it before. So I’m so sorry if it’s taking me longer than
you’d like
to figure out if I can really trust you again.”

I shrank inside myself a little, soaking in what he’d just said. I really
had
hurt him, and on top of that, I’d left him so gun-shy he wasn’t sure if he could trust again. I knew exactly how that felt. When Fisher had left me hurt and deceived, he’d broken my trust and trampled all over my feelings, making it so I didn’t want anything to do with any man again...until Asher had come along.

And yet here I was, doing the very same thing to the one person who’d helped me heal from a similar wound.

Feeling the full weight of my shame, I bowed my head. “You’re right. I’ll go.”

When I turned away, he growled a curse, then called, “Remy...” But I was already rushing up the steps to escape him.

To escape myself.

But no matter how fast I ran, or where I went, I was still there, with me...the bitch who’d wounded Asher Hart.