Surrender, A New Addition To The Careless Whispers Series, Has Arrived!!
Still struggling with amnesia, Ella questions everything she's known about Kayden Wilkens--the alluring stranger who claims to have found her unconscious in an alleyway. But was he truly a stranger--or did Kayden know her before his supposed rescue? Tormented by the potential betrayal he denies, with fleeting memories of a bombshell in her recent past, Ella must face a hard reality. Every action has consequences . . . and trusting Kayden, the one thing she most desires, might result in the direst consequences of all.
The sound of the entry door beginning to rise again has me turning and watching it lift. Kayden ducks under it as I had, obviously impatient to find out what I’ve remembered, his leather jacket and his shoulder holster missing, his navy t-shirt hugging his broad, hard chest. It is then that I’m reminded of what made me request that we talk alone, and knowing it’s not something he wants to hear, but has to, I need to ensure he listens. And I need to stay focused on my memories, and what they’re telling me--not what he makes me think and feel, or what the past tells him.
He strides toward me, his energy predatory in this moment. Actually, there is always something rather predatory about him, which is far too sexy to ensure conversation, especially after today’s shift in events. I could be CIA. I could be his enemy, no matter what he says otherwise, and really, truly, right now, I just want to feel him close, to get lost with him in the way he makes me get lost. But there are things bigger than us at stake, things that are far too complicated and dangerous to indulge in such desires, even if they feel almost as if they are needs.
Determined to stay focused, I round the desk placing the massive wooden surface between us. By the time I’ve shoved back the desk chair, claimed the spot in front of it, and pressed my hands to the surface again, Kayden is doing the same opposite me.
His gaze meets mine, his probing, intelligent eyes those of a Hawk who sees the past clawing at me, while fighting to contain it and control it. “Why are you running from me?” he asks.
“I don’t run,” I say, and I can almost hear my father say, “Running makes you a victim. Never be a victim.”
“Then why are you over there and I’m over here, when we’d both much rather you be here or me there?”
“I’m giving us space to have the conversation I need to have with the Hawk--not with the man who loves me.”
The predatory gleam in those pale, too blue eyes of his softens, right along with his voice. “He’s the same person. I will always be the Hawk and the man who loves you.”