Page 27 of Hidden
I frowned at him. Why was he acting weird?
It wasn’t his words. It was the way that his gray eyes flickered over my frame. Gone was the usual hilarious expression he adopted when he tried to flirt. Now there was something else there, something that I didn’t like at all.
Why wasn’t he acting ridiculous? I could see the desire there, lurking under the surface. But for some reason, he was trying to be someone he wasn’t.
This new Damen made me feel weak.
“Why do you look like that?” The words burst from me before I could second-guess myself. “Why aren’t you hitting on me?”
Damen blinked, shock crossing his expression. It passed, and a second later, something else began to settle in its place. And this time when he gave me a once over, I felt the heat continue to rise under my skin. The way he looked at me, it was as if he thought that I was the most beautiful thing in the world. Which was ridiculous. I hadn’t had a decent bath in an eternity and was wearing a shapeless, white gown.
But it didn’t seem to matter.
He leaned forward, trapping me between the headboard of my bed and his arms. My heart raced, because this was it. I was so excited. He was going to say something stupid and cheesy. Then everything would be normal again!
“You like it when I flirt with you?” he whispered, his breath brushing over my ear.
My pulse raced, and I was melting. “W-w-we have an agreement!”
Damen froze, pulling back slightly. The hesitance began to creep back into his expression. “That’s not what I asked.”
My blood turned to ice as he began to pull away. Why was he running? I didn’t know what he was doing, but if he planned on playing mind games, why did he come here in the first place?
Then I saw it in his eyes—the self-loathing.
For some reason, he was holding himself back. I had no idea why, but I was sure it had to do with his stupid question. Did he think I was angry at him? I had told him to leave me alone at the hospital.
He was wrong, I hadn’t been angry. Not at him, at least. Dear God, I had forgotten how sensitive he was. He even looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.
I was a terrible person. The poor guy was wallowing in guilt at my callous words.
I had to rescue his fragile self-esteem, and the only way to do that was honesty. I gripped the sleeve of his shirt, my face growing warm. “I like it when you flirt. We’ve talked about this already! I like when you pay attention to me.”
Damen froze, his eyes meeting mine once again. “Really?” His confidence grew with every second, and a smile began to touch at the corners of his mouth. I couldn’t imagine why he would smile at my admission.
Then he continued to speak, his hand covering my own. “You like it when I ‘pay attention to you’, baby girl?”
The purr was back in this voice, causing my pulse to soar and my ears to warm. I couldn’t even respond, because the look in his eyes had me trapped. His focus moved to my mouth, and the temperature of the room continued to rise.
I wasn’t sure what he saw, but his grin grew wider. “You do!”
He leaned in, pushing me closer to the head of the bed. Only our hands separated our chests, and I had to crane my neck to look at him. My mouth went dry under the pressure of his gaze.
“You’re not scared of me at all,” he said.
Scared?
I wasn’t so certain about that. When he did these ridiculous things, my heart raced and it became harder to breathe. God only knew why I wanted him to flirt with me. His antics were something I both loved and hated. But when his eyes held mine—when he was paying attention to me and only me—I couldn’t deny it thrilled me.
“You’re incredibly brave,” Damen continued. “That’s good. You need to be brave to play with fire.”
I wasn’t sure what bravery had to do with anything. It probably had a lot more to do with potential brain damage. I was about to tell him so, when there was a knock at the door.
Instantly, his scorching expression vanished and he pulled away. I hid my inflamed face in my knees as I listened to Damen talk while I took a moment to steady my shaking breath.
Then the scent of food drifted toward me.
I peeked up to see Damen seated at the foot of the bed. A covered tray rested on a small cart beside me. I had been so flustered I hadn’t even heard him wheel it into the room.
