The Glass Secret (Chain of Secrets) (6 page)

“No but...why can’t I use the phone?”

He spoke at the same time as me, “I didn’t think the telephone worked? The storm knocked it out.”

“I don’t know if it does or not.” I shrugged, shook my head and eagerly inquired, “By the way, have you seen my cell?” My eyes darted back to the side table.

His eyes followed mine. “Your cell?” he asked, imitating my pitch. His intelligent expression turned blank. He shifted his analytical eyes, sternly appraising me.

“Yes. I’m sure there are notes that I had written in my phone or on my calendar
app
...I do that sort of thing—you know, making list.” I rambled on under my breath, essentially to myself as I scanned the room for my belongings. “I also probably updated my Facebook page to where I went last...there must be something there that will jiggle my memory.”

“Actually, we did find an interesting note.” He threw his hand into the air, and his eyes brightened. “Let me get it...but first...please, excuse me for one moment.” He promptly traced over to the phone, pulled out from his pocket a pair of the tiniest scissors and snipped the wires. He glanced over toward me and mumbled something about,
the telephone service being overrated.

I opened my mouth to speak, agape. Suddenly, the words withdrew from my thoughts. Perhaps it was actually the pain in my head that pulled me away from responding. I stared blankly into space. While I was at a loss for words, my mind was ticking.

Who was this doctor—handyman, and telephone repairman, too?

I eyeballed him as he stuck his head outside of the room.

What is he up to?

He spoke in a malleable whisper to someone whom I could not see. Then exited.

“What’s going on?” I called to him. It was too late; he was gone.

My eyes slowly roamed around the room. Nothing but plain bluish-gray walls enclosed me. They were bare. No artwork. I peered upward to the ceiling at the double-bladed fan. It also looked a bit dated like the phone; however, it added a nostalgic touch to the room. I supposed that is what the commercial designer was going for.

To my right on the side-table was a single lonely lamp providing inadequate lighting. Lonely...hmm, there was a single word describing how I felt.
Lonely and single.
Or so it appeared that way. No visitors surrounded me with big bright goofy smiles, beaming down like clowns. There were no familiar faces, anticipating stares, or concerned eyes glad to see that I was living. Nothing worthy of a Kodak moment.

My eyes drew to the left, over my shoulder, and slightly behind the bed where I noticed a heart monitor staring back at me. At least, that is what it looked like. It was turned off.

A good sign,
I thought, considering my condition.

My eyes bee-lined along the dingy yellowing cord that dangled from the monitor and snaked twice around the bed rail. Overall, it was the most minimalist hospital room I’d ever seen.

I wondered again what had happened that landed me here. I lay back, exhausted, searching my memory for a clue...

-5-

Sinfully taken!

The door where the doctor exited from reopened, slowly. A dark shadow emerged in the threshold then paused. Illuminated by the dim hall light that mated behind him, I idly studied his lines.

His physique was far more muscular and taller than the doctor’s. He had remarkably broad shoulders that practically filled the entranceway. Dark, wavy hair framed his chiseled face, and neatly tucked behind his ears, while the ends drifted against his collar. His presence sparked my awareness.

“Hello?” I breathed aloud.

“I will get you out of here soon,” he whispered with strong conviction. “Don’t let them erase your memory. Hang on.”

What was he talking about? I tried to absorb what he was saying, but the distraction of his presence took over instead.

His intense delivery penetrated my senses. The sound of his voice was smooth and even, his posture upright and confident. So confident that it caused chills to take my breath away.

There was something about him in the few seconds when I heard him speak that drew me in. In his case, I was sure drawing attention from the opposite sex was not difficult. He was magnificently that stunning.

“What? Who are you,” I replied nervously. “Do I know you?” When his dark gaze locked with mine, the air whooshed from my lungs.

“This morning I was here...we—” was the last thing I heard him say. He had undoubtedly mistaken me for someone else. Of course, that was just my luck.

I was not sure exactly what happened next. If I blinked long, and subsequently he vanished. Or when a painful twinge traveled up my spine, along my neck and into my brain so intensely, causing me to pass out, and perhaps, that is what sent him on his way.

I supposed it didn’t matter what came first...as in the chicken or the egg. Regardless, I had blacked out, which should have been my main concern.



To my chagrin, moments later, the handsome intruder stood feet from my bedside. Immediately, I perked up to his presence and intense scrutiny. He patiently stared down at me. How long had he been watching me?

Because his tall frame went on forever, I had to lift my head to see his full image. God, he was breathtaking. I swallowed back the lump that caught in my throat.

His outstanding gray eyes clouded with a look of scorching desire. Before I could speak, his strong masculine body loomed over mine. He wanted to devour me; there was no denying that. Urgency stirred in his eyes, something I could not place my finger on—a look of life and death lingered in his eyes, radiating a thin-line of uncertainty. He leaned into to me. His face was inches from my eyes.

“Wait, don’t...who are you?” Guarding the space between us, I braced my palm against his chest.

“Kiss me, then you will know the truth.” His deep voice, low and raw, saturated my ability to think straight.

“Tell me,” I hesitantly commanded, holding my breath.

“I want to...more, than you know. If I tell you who I am, I fear it will change everything between us. I can’t take that risk. You must remember on your own.” He touched all corners of me with his eyes. I felt motionless, unable to move. He leaned into me, again, breaking my hold. My mind raced. It all happened so fast, I could hardly find the words to slow him down.

Without warning his lips pressed onto mine. Beneath the pressure of his firm delicious mouth, I tried to speak. He hushed me...kissing me into silence. There was no stopping his liaison. He was in control. He did not violate me; as a matter of fact, he was tender, so passionate and seemingly familiar.

“Brielle, sweet darling,” he breathily whispered. He knew my name. My heart leaped in my chest...I wanted to remember him.

My thoughts struggled to evoke a memory of him. “What? What risk? Please tell me,” I murmured as he continued to swallow my protest.

His mouth. His lips. His touch. All of him whet my appetite. I relented to his fervency. The feathering of his fingertips caressed over my body, stealing my breath and any thoughts of resisting fled.

There was no hesitation, claiming what he wanted, needed, and hungered for. A need rose in me, too, one I could not harness, and that I could not resist. He slowly removed my thin gown, worshipping my nakedness with his ardent eyes.

“The doctor, he is returning.” My breaths quickened, turning to panic, despite the ebb and flow of my desire.

“No one can enter into the fission of our two worlds.”

“But—”

He put two fingers against my lips. “Shhh, be still. Let me into your heart.”

I was exposed to him in everyway. So, bare and so open...a heat crept over my face, dipping my head, feeling shy and overwhelmed. I reacted by pulling the blanket up over myself.

“I want to,” I whimpered.

“My God, you are even more beautiful than before.” He whispered. His eyes landed on the corner of my right eye. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

I assumed it was a bruise he referred to. His fingers slightly touched the edge of my cheek. The sensation caused a small dull pain amongst pleasure, making me gasp inwardly.

“Not so much,” I replied.

He softly kissed the tender spot near my eye. His lips traveled along my hairline, down to my earlobe, causing tingles to trace over me. As his lips washed over me, my body gave into the idea of letting him have his way with me, but my mind and heart were at polar opposites. The caveat to giving in completely was when I caught in his eyes a painful longing, the same woebegone longing that I understood, all too well, and knew I had felt somewhere in time before these moments. It was then I surrendered to him without equivocation. It was then I lost all or what little self-control I had left.

Everything in that moment escaped me, all but the man who held me in his arms, near to his massive chest, breathing deeply. A feeling of strong want soared in me. His lips brushed over my shoulders and traced down my neck to the swell of my breasts. He kissed my pink nipples, tantalizing them with small scraping bites. I coiled into the pleasure-inducing aphrodisiac created by the skin of his teeth. The delicate pain transcended into bliss.

He peppered soft kisses down the length of my stomach, around my navel and between my thighs to that sweet spot. Moisture released from within me as he teased, taunted, and relished all of me. His tantalizing touches stimulated sensations that traveled to my heart and back to the heat of me. I curled my fingers into his flesh, never breaking physical contact with him. From beneath his dark lashes, his eyes intermittently flashed into mine.

The pleasure grew to the point where I was in absolute need of him. I needed to see the look in his eyes. My hands reached down to his face, drawing him up to mine. I held him steady. Eye-to-eye. Face-to-face.

His eyes spoke to me. I recognized he was a man of honorable intentions, but who was he? Did I say honorable? Having sex with a man I didn’t know anything about might not have been considered honorable, more like a dichotomy of two extremes—dangerous and exciting. What did he want other than to seduce me? Then again, it did not matter in the moment. Any lingering doubts I had shattered like glass.

The words ‘trust me’ flashed in my mind. He had silently summoned me to believe. Instantly, I trusted him with my heart, my body, and I moaned cravingly, “I need you.”

Our lips met on his silence caveat. Once again, his mouth engaged with mine. His lips were soft, firm, and contrasted with the unshaven whiskers on his face that brushed against my flushed cheeks. His tongue parted my lips, pushed in deeper, probing every inch of my mouth as his fingers moved in sync with the rasp of his tongue, raising the intensity of my longing.

I twisted my fingers into his thick black waves. Our naked bodies entangled, drenched in our pheromones. Bare, flesh glistening with passion. Funny thing was, I had not noticed when he undressed. I’m not sure how I missed the chance to see him fully exposed, naked, with his hard muscles expanding in all directions. He must have had me preoccupied in the throes of passion. He unquestionably did. His body was of a soccer player’s, not bulked up with muscle and (sorry) fat like some heavy weight linebackers are in football, but lean, agile and fierce.

Against my belly, I could certainly feel every inch of him alert and erect. I was keenly aware of every one of his touches, memorizing every detail of his face and the scent that emanated off his skin. The sound of his heartbeat, next to mine, pulsed with the rhythm of the rain.

My body behaved wanton of him. All of him. I flung my arms around the broad span of his back, embracing him tightly. I couldn’t get close enough to him. My fingertips wisped down his back and around to his flat washboard abs that sinfully melted into the most defined V-cut that I had ever seen on a man. In pictures and, or otherwise.

Hesitantly, I allowed my fingers to coil around his well-endowed hardness. I almost fainted when realizing I couldn’t close my hand around the size of him. Beneath my touch, he moaned sounds that were not human.

I leaned forward and touched my lips to his chest, devotedly kissing him. The scent of his skin drove me wild with anticipation. I could barely contain myself; the passion was too much. He held my arms over my head, his weight against me, forcing me to do nothing but enjoy the pleasure of his touch. I felt him growing harder up against my pelvis. He did not enter me...not yet.

He kissed me, lovingly. His tongue brushed along the outline of my lips, sensually, parting me...and entered my mouth as his hips pressed into mine, slowly breaching my warm entrance, filling me inch by inch beyond measure. The pressure of him was great, stretching me but painfully delicious.

“Look at me...look into my eyes,” he seductively commanded. His baritone smoldering voice ignited the fire that burned in me.

I shuddered inside myself, uncontrollably panting, writhing against his powerful movements. The sensations came in waves, in and out as the ecstasy heightened, pleasing every nerve ending deep within me. Our fingers laced together as one.

The pleasure he masterfully impelled made me cry out as I unraveled, ebbing into him. He cradled his arms around my hips, drawing me closer, laying his head against my forehead. I wished to hear his thoughts.