“Look me in the eyes and answer me, Hendrix. Would you still want me if I turn out to be Lennon after all?”
He quickly closes the distance between us and pulls my face up toward his as his gaze searches mine. “Yes, I think I would.” He closes his eyes for a moment and then says, “Please forgive me, but I would because you’re still part of her. If it turns out that way, you still look like her on the outside and you would be carrying so many pieces of her in here,” he says letting his hand slide down to my chest between my breasts where my heart beats loud enough I think we both hear it.
I can’t stop the tears that spill faster from my eyes because part of me doesn’t understand the answer at all but the other part of me totally does and it’s heartbreaking. I know it’d never be his first choice to be without London, but he gave me an honest answer based on the thought of her being gone and not wanting to completely be without her as messed up as it sounds.
This is similar to the conversation I had with Dash hours earlier, but I gave in to how my heart was making me feel. And while I still feel exactly the same as I did then, I can’t be sure of who I am. Just because I caught glimpses of my past, those quick snapshots don’t prove my identity. We shared everything and the memory was too generic and almost more of a familiar feeling than a clear image.
Hendrix’s lips crash down on mine before I can form my next thought. He kisses me with an urgency I can feel vibrating beneath my fingertips resting on his arms.
He leads us to the couch and gently lowers us down. His lips and hands are touching and exploring as he whispers in my ear, “I need you, beautiful.”
My mind is screaming at me to stop this. I slept with Dash just last night. I don’t remember which name belongs to me, but I do know neither of us would sleep with two different guys within hours of each other. Especially with the emotional entanglements this comes with. But this situation is anything but typical.
He pulls the oversized T-shirt from my body and cups my breast in one hand and takes the other in his mouth before my mind can protest further.
A moan escapes my throat as he continues his seductive torture. He pauses long enough to unbutton his shirt and toss it across the room before continuing to explore my body. His touch makes my back arch off the couch.
“H-Hendrix,” I manage to get out as his hand travels lower and finds my center after moving my panties to the side.
“We shouldn’t,” I say breathily as he continues driving me close to the edge with his fingers like he knows my body better than I do. The thought confuses me. How is it possible for me to come alive under his touch this way if I didn’t already have a connection to him? What if he’s right? What if what I thoughtI felt when I remembered the GTO was all wrong? What if I’m London just like the accident report led us to believe initially?
It would mean I did the unthinkable and slept with my sister’s boyfriend, something I would never knowingly do. But this situation is so messed up, and I knew it was a risk when I did it, but in my heart, in that moment, I believed more than anything I was Lennon.
Before my mind can circle the drain of guilt further, my back arches off the couch as I break apart under Hendrix’s expert touch.
“That’s right. Come back down to me, baby. Look me in the eyes. I need to know you’re with me,” he says huskily while drawing my pleasure out.
“I’m with you, Hendrix. But we can’t go any further. I’m sorry. Not until we know the truth,” I manage to say as I come back down to earth.
He nods even as he looks like he could explode if I so much as brushed against him. But like the gentleman I know he is, he stands and then hands me my shirt back before scooping his from the floor and pushing his arms through the sleeves.
“I have physical therapy right before lunch. Do you want to take me?” I ask, still trying to catch my breath.
“Yeah, I’ll take you. You seem to be getting around better. Are you in any pain?” he asks.
“Yes, it hurts. But I’m pushing through it. Chasing my memories seems more important than licking my wounds,” I tell him.
He pauses buttoning his shirt and sits back down beside me on the couch where I’m now covered by my oversized shirt.
“What do you mean?”
I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and face him. “I found the keys to Lennon’s GTO, and I remembered it. Then, I took it for a little drive,” I admit while closing one eye.
He blinks a few times before shaking his head. “What do you mean, you remembered it?”
“I saw flashes of the past but not enough to tell whose eyes I was seeing it through. It was mostly a familiar feeling. I feel like I’m on the cusp of remembering, Hendrix.”
He rests his elbows on his knees and stares at his clasped hands. “That sounds promising. Really. I’m happy for you,” he says. And I believe him, but I know he’s scared.
“You seemed to accept the possibility of me being Lennon at the hospital when I collapsed after seeing the car. What changed your mind?”
He sighs. “I do accept it as a possibility. But I need facts. I need evidence. And it all points to London being alive. And that means she’s you.”
“I know you were going to propose to her,” I admit softly.
His head jerks my way.
“I found it in Lennon’s journal. She helped you pick a ring.”
