He yanked my naked body to his, one hand in the center of my back and one over the faint sting on my ass. I sort of melted into him with a kiss. I didn’t mean for it to get emotional. It just happened. I relaxed into him, pressing my chest into him, while my hand slid slowly up his arm. Paxton took two steps, slamming me against the shower wall. His kiss was desperate, animalistic.
I didn’t know what to think. My head spun in circles while emotions took over my body. Feelings that I didn’t like. That I didn’t want.
The more desperation that came from Paxton, the more it saturated me. Passion ignited, exploded in my core. My body liquefied erotically into his, and I tilted my head, begging for more. His lips fervently ran down my throat and sucked.
But just like that, he stopped.
Paxton raised his gaze with a stunned look, like he was dumfounded for a second.
“Get ready,” he ordered hoarsely. Paxton cleared his throat and stalked away.
I stared after him, feeling more confused than he looked. What the hell just happened? I felt—ambushed.
I used my shower time to reflect on the fire that had seared between us briefly. Something euphoric and intoxicating. Not just lust. It was more than that. It sort of made me feel like the Dilaudid did in the hospital. Light and floaty. My fingers gently ran over the scar on the back of my head as I contemplated what just happened.
I breathed hot steam deep into my lungs and sighed heavily, switching thoughts. I would revisit that one later when I could wrap my head around it. I moved to my dream—the billboard high off the ground with my mom and my sister, and the room with the yellow curtains. Where was that? Where was my mother and my sister? They were real. That was a real memory. That much I knew without a doubt. What I didn’t know was why nobody else seemed to know them, or anything about them. Why?
Paxton was gone when I emerged wrapped in a towel. I blew out a puff of air when I saw my clothes laid out on the bed. The man had to be in control of everything. Without my boot, I hobbled to the bed. My finger traced the dainty panties made out of mostly string while I thought about his choice in clothes. It wasn’t that he had bad taste. I liked the outfit just fine. White shorts with a red top. One pink flip-flop to match my blue boot. The thing that bothered me was him laying them out. Why? Was he on that high of a power trip?
I dressed in front of the glass doors. The ocean sprawled in the distance below a bright-blue sky. I felt good for the first time since I hadn’t remembered who I was. Not mentally. Just physically. The pain seemed to have subsided in my hip, I could walk without crutches, and I hadn’t had a pain pill in over twelve hours. I didn’t even feel like I needed it. Now if my mind would follow suit and catch up, I’d have something to talk about.
I blow-dried my hair in front of the vanity in my bathroom and pulled back the sides with a twist and a clip. After I curled the two pieces that I’d purposely pulled out, I painted my nails a pale red, a duller shade than my shirt. I liked being a girly girl. I liked feeling pretty. For a brief second, I sensed I was being watched, like I wasn’t supposed to snoop in someone else’s things. Not mine. Expensive makeup was neatly arranged in the middle drawer, everything in its place. Lipstick and eyeshadow in every color, blushes of rubies and reds, foundation in every shade of the seasons. Any girl’s dream.
I topped off my look with red lips. I tried pink first, but it clashed too much with my shirt. The red wasn’t bright, more like magenta. A hint of purple. I slipped my foot into the bulky boot and checked myself in the mirror. Other than a tiny scar above my left eye, the scar wrapping around my knee, and the stupid boot, I looked fine. Actually, I looked hot. The high-class bra that I chose did wonders for my cleavage. Tucking the tail of my shirt in helped with that, too, tightening the thin material.
“A belt,” I called to my reflection. I walked to my closet with something thin and sparkly in mind. My weight shifted from my sore leg and my fingers grazed the few belts. Humph, I didn’t like belts. I didn’t have much to choose from. Nothing that I had in mind, anyway. An idea hit me and I flicked my gaze toward the dresses. “Ouch,” I said, grimacing from the sudden pain in my neck. After a moment of searching, my gaze located the perfect dress. A strapless one.
The smell of bacon tickled my nose as soon as I opened my door. I knew for sure that I didn’t like meat. The stench irritated my stomach, and for a moment I thought I might need to turn around and go back to the bathroom. The opened door on my right kept me from it. Rowan’s room. I curved up my lips in an instant smile, but only for a second. Her bed was unmade and empty. The giggling from the next room brought back my smile.
I peeked my head in first, seeing them both below the polka-dotted comforter, laughing with a stuffed giraffe.
“Good morning, girlies.”
Rowan and Ophelia quieted and turned to me. “You look pretty, Mommy,” Rowan commented.
“Ahhh, thank you, baby,” I said as I lumbered toward them.
“I like your lips,” Ophelia also complimented.
“Thanks, Phi. You girls ready to hit some home runs?” I asked as I sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed. Lucky girls. I never had a bed until I moved in with Mrs. Porter.
Wait. What? Who the hell’s Mrs. Porter?
“I’m going to hit a ball in the hole.”
“Oh, yeah, youth golf,” I said while my hand brushed a lock of hair over her shoulder. I was irrevocably in love. “Let’s go brush our teeth, so we can get ready. Daddy’s making breakfast.”
“I don’t like Daddy’s breakfast,” Rowan admitted.
I giggled and patted her leg. “I’m not sure I’m any better,” I confessed.
“Yes, you are,” Ophelia assured me with a bobbing head. “You’re way better.”
“I might need some help remembering how to do it.” Both girls agreed to help with the cooking, revealing proud smiles and nodding their heads. I rushed them toward the bathroom to brush their teeth. Joy swelled in my heart. Besides the fact that Paxton was a dick, and we had some sort of fucked-up something going on between us, I felt amazing. And I was in love. In love with the most precious little girls on earth.
I picked out a cute little blue-jean skirt with a purple shirt. Funny characters in different colors. The top had pink glitter letters that read, Inside Out. I had no idea what that meant, but it was cute. I giggled with the girls when I heard Rowan tell a joke as I passed the bathroom.
“Why did the bubblegum cross the road?”
“Cause it stucked to the chicken’s foot,” Ophelia replied with the quick, correct answer. “I already knowed that one.”
“Rats.”
I walked into Rowan’s room, scooping up a stuffed animal with ease. Hardly any pain at all. I opened her closet, caught off guard. I’m not sure what I’d expected. I mean, they weren’t twins or anything. Hell, they didn’t even have the same mother. Why did I expect them to be in matching outfits? Nothing in Rowan’s closet matched Ophelia’s, and that bothered me, but why?
“What are you doing?” Paxton asked from the door.
Caught off guard, I swung my gaze toward him, his expression wary. Just like mine had probably been when I found out my girls didn’t wear matching clothes. “Helping out. I’m getting their clothes.”
“They’re playing ball. Uniforms. They’re on the couch.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.”
“Are you wearing lipstick?”
“Well, I have a lot of it. I assumed I always wore it.”
“No. Never. Not unless I made you.”
“Oh, well I better go wipe it off, then.”
Paxton couldn’t hide his reaction. He smiled. A genuine smile. I saw it with my own eyes. He strolled toward me, quickly replacing the grin with a smirk. Even in the short time I knew him, I could tell the difference. The smell of his cologne reached me before his body. Intoxicating.