Her Forgotten Betrayal(35)

The lock gave way reluctantly, grinding, then clicking in submission. She reached for the doorknob with the same apprehension as when she’d opened the drawer. Her mind flashed to the dream memory of being discovered in a closet by a madman. She shoved away the surreal moment and focused on now. On Cole, standing strong and protective beside her. Her hand shook. It closed around the smooth metal. She covered the evidence of her unraveling nerves with her other hand. Then she twisted, pulled, and stumbled triumphantly back into the solid wall of Cole’s body.

The door swung inward, revealing cobwebs. The grime of years of disuse danced in the weak light and chill of the outside world. A riot of ivy cascaded over it, obscuring the view from within and the opening from without. No wonder she’d never noticed it when she’d walked around the grounds.

Cole’s hand curved protectively around her hip. With the other arm, he parted the fall of green. Morning light shafted over them, a spotlight illuminating the dimmest corners of the office. Through the gap he’d made in the vines, she could see the sloping side terrace of the property. In her mind, she could hear echoes of them as children, happily running from the house to play in sweet-smelling summer grass. She smiled at the perfect feel of it.

Then just as quickly, she shivered at the growing creep factor of unearthing so much so quickly. To help brush off her apprehension, she focused on how late it had gotten. They’d been in the office for so long, night had slipped away completely. The sun was up. And thanks to Cole, light was pouring over her, along with another precious memory she wouldn’t have reclaimed without him.

She turned in his grasp, instinct overriding caution. She’d rebelled against this, against the reality of them, since the moment she’d woken in the parlor with him beside her. She’d convinced herself her feelings were one-sided, and that they’d only get in the way. But the impulse to trust Cole kept growing stronger, regardless of the many questions he’d left unanswered. And now she knew for a fact exactly how much he desired her in return.

Caught in a haze of before, encouraged by his silent acceptance and how much his appearance had already brought back to her, she laid her head against his shoulder and held onto him. The moment felt as if she was claiming something infinitely precious, instead of merely giving in to a need for comfort or reassurance.

It was inappropriate, she knew. He’d introduced himself as simply her neighbor, despite the reality of their past. There’d been some kind of bad blood between him and her father. Cole had moved on years ago from their teenage love affair. And thankfully, they’d managed to regain a smidgen of objectivity after her bombshell recollection of how intimate they’d once been. But at the moment she was beyond caring how much of her need for this man she let him see.

“Did I ever remember her?” she asked, her lips trembling against his throat.

“Remember who, darlin’?” Instead of pushing her away, he pulled her hair from her ponytail and rubbed at the pressure points at the base of her skull.

“My mother.”

“You’re remembering the first time we found this?”

She nodded. “I guess. A little.”

He nodded, too. When she kissed the skin beneath his jaw that she somehow knew was ultrasensitive, his body tensed. His hand clenched in her hair. The gesture should have terrified her, given her nightmares. But with Cole, it felt amazing. She eased away, almost convincing herself to let go. Then she saw the passion etched across his face.

“You’re remembering more by the minute.” His attention dropped to her lips.

“Not enough. Not why I trust you and need you and feel afraid of you all at the same time, when we haven’t seen each other in years. It’s scaring me to death, more than any of the rest. Wanting you, wanting this…it’s nonsensical. But I can’t stop it, Cole. I can’t stop needing you more every time we touch.”

His eyes darkened at her bold admission. She reached up to touch his face, craving the connection. His hand stopped her, gripping her wrist tightly enough to leave prints on her skin.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned, recalling to her mind the flames that had invaded her nightmares the moment she’d found him in the woods.

She shook her head, refusing to back off. Not this time. Not from him.

“I’m terrified of fire,” she said. “It keeps showing up in my mind, in places I’m sure it doesn’t belong. Does that mean anything to you? Does it mean I should be afraid of you, too?”

“I’ll do everything I can not to hurt you,” was his cryptic response.