After a short stretch of silence, his whiskers scraped my skin as I felt his smile on the back of my neck. “You aren’t mad?”
“I was at first, but truthfully, you made an impact. I’d never felt that way before. I always figured I just wasn’t a highly sexual person.”
“I knew I should have probably bailed from the dream, but...you were irresistible. I couldn’t leave. You were a living fantasy, made flesh. I’d wanted you for a long time.”
Wow. No one had ever said that to me before.
“Did I pull you into my dreams?”
He nodded. “It was a new experience for me. And there you were.”
“Oh, my God.” I covered my face. I could just imagine what he’d encountered: me, naked and tied up on my bed.
“No. Don’t be embarrassed,” he said shortly. “It wasn’t the first time I’d seen you in a dream.”
“What do you mean? Did I pull you into my sex dreams more than twice?”
“No. I mean—” He paused as though uncomfortable with what he was going to say. “I don’t know. I recognized you.”
“Like before you knew me?”
“Just déjà vu, I guess. I don’t know. I recognized you, so when I was pulled into your dream, it wasn’t a surprise but a gift. It was like you were there, waiting just for me.”
A bell rang in my head. There was something important attached to this, but it was elusive, dancing just out of sight of my mind’s eye. Feeling a sense of fateful purpose on top of hearing his hesitant confession made the hair rise on the back of my neck. This was starting to feel spooky-strange.
“Which reminds me—” he rolled me onto my back, looming over me, so I could see his displeasure, “—you put yourself in danger back on Earth and in the marketplace here.”
“I wasn’t looking for trouble,” I protested, tracing my fingers over his knitted brow, soothing it.
“You were almost killed. Twice.” He pulled my hand to his chest, glaring down at me so as not to be distracted.
“I’m fine.”
“I couldn’t protect you,” he insisted roughly.
“Well, of course you couldn’t. And you won’t be able to most of the time. We have separate lives.”
“Which is why it’s so important that you take every precaution. I couldn’t take it if anything happened to you. I barely arrived in time.” The look of pain crossed his face briefly, but he pushed it away almost immediately.
“Wait a minute.” I sat up wide-eyed. I knew there’d been something I couldn’t put my finger on about his rescue back on Earth, and here it was. “How did you get to me so fast? At the restaurant. You know, my lunch with my boss?”
“What do you mean?” His eyes sort of shuttered, which made me feel like he actually did have something to hide.
I hated risking another fight and losing this new, wonderful feeling of intimacy, but I needed to know where we stood. I wasn’t a child and wouldn’t abide being treated like one. I wanted some answers.
“You know what I mean. How did you know what part of town to find me in? L.A.’s a big town, and I hung up on you without telling you.”
He took a deep breath, giving me his frowning, grim look. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? It’s late.” He lay back on his pillow with sort of a guilty expression, scrubbing his hands over his face, but I followed him. I climbed over him, straddling his hips, and forced him to look up at me.
A hint of a smile played around his lips, telling me he wasn’t taking me all that seriously, especially since his eyes were eating me up. His hands ran up my rib cage to cup my breasts, but I grabbed his wrists before they reached their target and held them down on the bed by his head, which I knew he was allowing me to do. Clearly, he was strong enough to overpower me.
This new position had interest flaring in his eyes, but I was not going to be derailed.
“How?”
He gave a long sigh. “A tracking device.”
I stared at him a moment, uncomprehending. “A tracking device?”
“On your phone. I transferred into your apartment and attached one.” He watched me carefully, as though gauging my reaction by my facial expression.
“You put a tracking device on my phone?” I was incredulous, wondering how in the world he could have managed.
“But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found you. Bear that in mind before you get mad at me.”
Was I mad? Considering the alternative (being in a ditch somewhere), I couldn’t be a hypocrite and get on his case, but I didn’t want this to become a habit.
“I’m not mad, but I don’t want you making those kinds of executive decisions behind my back anymore. I want you to talk to me. I think I’m pretty reasonable about my own health and safety.”
With a more serious expression, he nodded. “Fair enough. But know that I need you safe.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve noticed. You were so worried earlier.” I shook my head, not understanding. “Why? I was fine. There was nothing wrong with me, but you were still flipping out.”
He held his breath, and for just a moment I thought I saw a haunted look flicker there, but he forced himself to smile and relax. He wasn’t giving anything away.
“I wasn’t flipping out, I was just worried. It was a natural reaction.” I’d relaxed my grip on his wrists on the bed, and he suddenly reversed their positions and grabbed hold of my wrists. Widening his arms while holding on to me forced me down so my breasts brushed his chest hair. That felt good, and I closed my eyes with a throaty moan, enjoying the pleasurable sensation, taking a moment to rub my nipples back and forth.
“I don’t want to talk anymore,” he murmured in a suggestive tone.
He was obviously trying to avoid sharing this, and I let myself be distracted as his mouth found mine, brushing soft, gentle kisses to my lips. His tongue lightly flicked their seam, tempting me to open my mouth, but instead, I pulled just far enough away to look down at him.
“Why, Ryder? You know so much about me. It’s only fair. You were in my mind, without my even knowing, long enough to learn all my secrets. Tell me one of your secrets. Help me understand a part of you.” Taking a shot in the dark, I asked, “Does it have something to do with your sister’s death?”
His lips tightened, and he looked deeply into my eyes, then closed his, shaking his head. It was like he had no idea what to say. Swiftly putting me off to the side away from him, he swung his legs off the bed and stood. He grabbed another pair of sweats from a drawer to put on, turning his back to me.
It pained me to lose our connection. My heart ached at the stretch of silence. I could only assume he was angry with me.
Was it wrong to want to know? Was it wrong to ask? We’d just been in each other’s minds and bodies. Didn’t I deserve to understand why he was so ready to fight with me about wearing a miniskirt, and why he was so ready to cast me as his enemy and threaten me with imprisonment, as he’d done earlier? That one still kind of hurt as I thought about it.
“Ryder?”
“Do you want a cup of water?” he asked stonily.
“No thanks,” I said quietly. He left the room abruptly, and tears pricked my eyes.
Maybe I didn’t have the right to know. Maybe I’d been right all along. Maybe he felt like this was a very temporary situation that we’d been forced into, and the difference between us was that he’d known it all along, and I had allowed myself to have girly fantasies of dating, with wistful thoughts of hearts and flowers. Here I was sitting naked in his room, asking him questions like we meant something to each other, when he maybe saw me as a responsibility with “benefits.” Embarrassment lit my face, and feelings of stupidity lanced my chest.
What to do?
Shut it off. Go home. Figure it all out later.