Unmasked (Revealed #1) (12 page)

Grimacing as I recalled my dreams – or perhaps I should say nightmares – I wiped a hand over my face to clear the flopping hair from my eyes. As well as repeatedly dreaming about my steamy kitchen liaison with Sean, I had stupidly dreamt that he’d been with me in bed, cradling me against his body as he repeatedly apologised for his cold treatment. It had felt so real I’d almost been able to feel the weight of his arm around my waist and the heat of his breath on my neck.

How bloody stupid was I? Now, not only had I allowed myself to be used like his plaything –
twice
– I was dreaming up romantic endings to make myself feel better. Ugh. I was pathetic. Or at least I was when it came to him.

Letting out a disgusted grunt, I practically threw myself from the bed and trudged into the en-suite. As I flicked on the shower and waited for it to heat up I felt some remaining stickiness between my legs, which was yet another reminder of my sordid actions last night, and gave me further reason to scowl. I should have showered before bed and washed away the memories of Sean from my body, but when I’d reached my room all I’d wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry, so that was exactly what I’d done. Now though, I seriously regretted last night’s laziness because as I lifted my arms to remove my T-shirt I got a faint whiff of his smoky, woody scent lingering on my skin, and shivered from the deluge of memories it triggered.

After a long and rather painful shower – like last time, I took out my self-disgust on my skin by scrubbing it way too hard – I found that, thankfully, my washed clothes were now dry. Dressing in garments that actually fit me felt like a novelty after being swamped in Sean’s massive things for so long, and I took a second to smooth my hands over my clothes – it was good to be able to feel my hips and boobs again.

Using the hairdryer that Sean had left for me, I dried my tresses, applied a tiny smidgen of makeup to improve my confidence, and looked in the mirror with a satisfied nod. At least I could look like myself today, even if my battered ego felt absolutely nothing like the calm, confident, headstrong woman I usually was.

It might be Christmas Eve, but as I opened my curtains I saw that there would be no Christmas miracle for me today, because there was more sodding snow falling outside. Seeing the thick, white flakes still dancing around, I cursed loudly before deciding that I wouldn’t hide in my room any longer. Sean was the one with the issues, not me, and if he wanted me out of his sight then he could be the one to flipping hide away. I was sick of these four walls, and I’d done nothing wrong … except get a little carried away in the heat of the moment last night.

Pushing my long hair back from my face, I huffed out a long breath. God, I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of this place, away from Sean and back to my comfortable, if somewhat boring, life.

Making my way downstairs, I practically held my breath as I pushed the kitchen door open, but released a long, relieved sigh when I found it empty. Thank goodness for that. I was feeling way too snarky today to deal with Sean before I had any caffeine in me.

As I stepped into the large room my eyes were instinctively drawn to the marble worktop where we’d had sex last night. There was no evidence of our heated encounter, but I felt my nose crinkle as I imagined what hidden residues might be happily encrusting themselves to the surface at this very moment. Ugh. I probably should wipe the surface down. As my gaze lingered and my skin began to warm from the returning memories, I swallowed loudly before having to forcefully rip my gaze away, determined not to linger on thoughts of Sean and his superb sexing skills, or the way I constantly seemed to lose my wits when I was around him.

My stomach grumbled loudly, reminding me that I’d barely eaten last night, and so I immediately grabbed a banana to feed my poor empty tummy alongside some butter and jam from the fridge and two slices of bread from the freezer. Minutes later I had demolished the banana and was well through the process of brewing a pot of Sean’s finest Columbian coffee as my bread defrosted on the counter – not the sex counter of course: I still hadn’t got around to cleaning over
there
yet.

All in all, today was starting off better. The coffee was on, I was about to have a nice, peaceful breakfast, and best of all, I hadn’t had any hormone-stirring, soul-shaking encounters with a certain Mr Irresistible. Smiling as I inhaled the delicious smell now filling the room, I turned to pop my bread in the toaster, but was suddenly interrupted by the kitchen door slamming open as the man himself strode in from the hallway, casting a dark glance around and freezing when he saw me. My heart sank – looks like I had jinxed my nice morning by entertaining brief thoughts of him. Damn.

We did that fleeting staring thing again, both of us frozen to the spot as our eyes locked and held, but I was first to break the electric link between us by blinking, and forcing my head to turn back towards the toaster. I had no idea what the deal was with him always staring at me, but I wouldn’t indulge him any longer. Even if a tiny deep down part of me did find the connection between us quite thrilling.

‘G … good morning,’ I murmured almost automatically as a way to fill the awkward silence, but immediately chastised myself for interacting with him at all. And what the hell was I on about when I’d described the morning as ‘good’? It was snowing again, I was still trapped, and to top it all off I was a little sore between my legs from where I’d willingly allowed this miserable arsehole and his large appendage to shag me senseless. That made today about as far from a ‘good’ morning as I could possibly imagine.

Sean merely continued to stare at me in reply, his shoulders tense below the material of the black, long sleeved T-shirt that he was wearing. Which, I noted despairingly, also happened to cling to his sodding muscles to near perfection. His jaw was tight as he blinked rapidly, but for a moment it looked like he was about to speak, before he briefly dropped his head with a grunt and walked towards the fridge instead. Charming. This man’s stunning lack of social skills knew no bounds.

‘You’re in a dazzling mood I see,’ I muttered, more to myself than him, but in response I got a glare as he poured himself a giant glass of orange juice and took several long swigs. Stupidly, the movement of his throat as he swallowed drew my attention, that Adam’s apple of his, so masculine and bobbing up and down as if tempting me to walk across and kiss it. Hmm … I would start on his neck and work my way up his stubble-covered jaw until I reached that sinful mouth of his …
Fuck
! My bloody mind was going crazy again, and before I even knew it,
I
was the one staring, not him.

There was quite a high chance that I was probably drooling, too. Bugger. What was it about this guy that pulled me so strongly?

‘I’m not really a morning person,’ he mumbled moodily, depositing the carton back in the fridge, slamming the door, and ruining my throat appreciation session as he turned away from me so I was left staring at the ruffled hair on the back of his head.

‘No kidding,’ I replied tightly, turning to rescue my toast from becoming charcoal and buttering it furiously, only just managing to bite back the sarcastic comment that flew to mind. He obviously wasn’t going to talk about what had happened last night, and there was no way in hell that I was going to be the one to bring it up.

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he suddenly admitted, his tone quieter and softer than before and making me abandon my buttering and look across in surprise to find him already watching me with a wary expression on his handsome face.

‘How about you … how are you?’ he asked hesitantly. So
now
he was making small talk? My eyebrows flew up at his utter cheek. After shagging me not once, but twice, and effectively dismissing me after each bout,
now
he wanted to chat?

Glaring at him, I decided it was probably advisable to get away from Sean and his temperamental moods while I still had my sanity even vaguely intact, so I dropped the knife, leaving my toast uneaten. Funnily enough, with Sean in the room my appetite had disappeared now anyway.

‘Oh, I’m just peachy,’ I replied sarcastically, before picking up my coffee cup, shoving past him, and wandering into the lounge without another word.

Hearing the door click closed behind me, I sighed in relief and leant back on the wall to try and steady my breath. Even with my exhausting efforts at staying strong around him my body had reacted anyway by heating and going into overdrive, leaving me feeling a bit clammy and restless. This really was physical attraction at its most potent. And dangerous. Nodding my head, I scowled; I might not like to properly admit it, but there was no doubt that that man and his charms were a serious danger to the safety of my heart. Raising my free hand I rubbed at my chest in a useless attempt at soothing my hammering pulse rate, but managed nothing other than knocking my coffee cup and nearly spilling the contents.

As well as being a completely confusing, changeable, and miserable man, Sean clearly wasn’t a Christmas person either, I thought sourly, looking around the undecorated room as I drew in long, slow breaths. There wasn’t a single bauble or string of tinsel in sight. All in all, it was a truly depressing situation.

If I was where I should be today – enjoying the day at my mum’s house – we’d all be gathered around the dining table with a Christmas tree twinkling beside us, carols on the radio, and our traditional Christmas Eve breakfast of baked ham and toast waiting for us. Thanks to Sean’s interruption I didn’t even have my toast to enjoy now. I felt so fragile this morning that the thought of my family was almost enough to make me burst into tears on the spot, but I’d cried plenty last night, so I instead gave myself a firm pep talk and let out a long, unhappy sigh.

Attempting to distract myself from this bout of melancholy, I placed my mug on a nearby coffee table and contented myself by looking through Sean’s extensive DVD collection to find something to help my day pass. Seeing as it was Christmas Day tomorrow I wondered if I could get a little more into the spirt with a nice Christmas film – not that I expected him to own any.

From his domineering personality and outdoorsy vibe I had thought Sean would be an action movie fan, or perhaps into horrors, but as I looked across the titles I was actually quite impressed by the range of genres he owned: everything from off the wall art-house productions to black and white classics and modern day blockbusters. All alphabetically ordered too, Mr Control obviously liked his house as well ordered as his parking arrangements, I thought with a smirk.

Picking cases out at random to inspect the covers, I made sure to carefully insert them back in the exact same spots I’d found them – no point giving him something else to get moody about. One caught my eye and I re-examined the cover to see what had taken my interest.
Shooting Point
, an old Hollywood blockbuster from when I was a teenager. At the time, all my friends had raved about it, but I’d never been much of a movie buff growing up, being much happier out on my bike, and so I’d never got round to watching it. I quite liked a good action flick nowadays though, so maybe I could watch this today. However, as I flipped the box over in my palm and gazed at the glossy cover again, my eyes narrowed, blinked, and widened as something suddenly dawned on me that had me slapping a hand over my mouth in shock.

Dropping the DVD as if it had burnt me, I stared at it in horror as I tried to take in what I’d just realised.
Oh my God, I was such a bloody idiot!

‘I wouldn’t bother with that one, it’s not one of my best,’ drawled a voice from the back of the room, causing me to yelp and spin around to see Sean just inside the doorway. He was leaning on the wall with one hand tucked in the pocket of his grey jeans, the other holding a plate of toast slathered in jam – presumably my abandoned breakfast – and his feet crossed at the ankles. All in all he looked cool, calm, and sexy as hell as he watched me with vague amusement twinkling in his dark blue eyes.

Holding up the plate of toast, he raised his eyebrows and put it on the table next to my coffee. ‘You skipped dinner last night, make sure you eat this.’ I briefly wondered how he knew I hadn’t eaten after our interlude in the kitchen, but my mind was still going loopy from the information I had learnt from the DVD residing on the floor by my feet. Glancing at the box again I felt a bit sick, and blew out a huge breath to try and clear my reeling mind.

I had
just
discovered this huge bombshell and he was calmly talking about food? Now? Seriously? Toast really was no longer my main concern, I was officially entering full meltdown mode. My cheeks were burning, my heart pounding under my skin, and my head felt woozy, which, all in all, was making my entire body decidedly unsteady.

‘I … I can’t believe I didn’t recognise you …’ My eyes flicked back to the DVD box again as I bent to retrieve it from the floor with a trembling hand. I cringed – it
really
was him. Although admittedly looking far younger and with much longer hair that reached down to his jaw line. ‘You’re Sean Phillips … as in
the
Sean Phillips,’ I said, waving the DVD case that had his face plastered all over the cover. ‘I
knew
you looked familiar …’ But my voice faded off as I stared at the image on the box feeling like a complete idiot.

I was literally in the presence of Hollywood royalty, and I could barely believe it. His face had been plastered everywhere when I was younger, he had been the guy of the moment back then, alongside the other greats like Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon. Blimey.

I didn’t keep up with celebrity gossip like some of my friends, but Sean had certainly seemed to fade from the public eye. I hadn’t seen any recent films with him in, that was for sure. Maybe that explained why I hadn’t recognised him. That and the drastic haircut, of course, because he’d had long hair in
every
film I’d ever seen him in. Although I had to say, this new cropped look was far more my cup of tea.

‘You’ve cut your hair,’ I murmured accusingly, my eyes cast downward. A small chuckle floated across from him and my head snapped up at the sound, but any smile that might have been on Sean’s lips was now gone.