Free unForgivable (An inCapable World Novel Book 2) by Sara Hubbard Page B

inside of you that…feels familiar to me.”
    “I’m not the girl for you,” I tell him. “I’m not sure I’m the girl for anyone.”
    He lifts his head and I see pain behind his eyes that makes me swallow hard. It’s like he’s looking right through me. And I’m afraid of what he’ll see. Of showing him too much. I try to look away but his fingers catch my chin and his lips crash into mine, taking my breath away.
    When he breaks away, his breath is in my face and I can still taste him on my lips. I lick my lips and struggle to find my way through the fog I find myself in. No one has ever kissed me like he just did, like our lives depend on it. Like his soul is speaking to mine.
    “Who are you?” I say softly, more to myself than to him. His familiarity hits me again. I can’t shake it. I know him. He knows me. He has to. There’s no other way to explain that kiss.
    He takes a few steps back. His cheeks are rosy and there’s ample strain in his jeans. I try not to stare, though I’m sure he’s caught me, and my cheeks start to burn.
    He turns from me and saunters to the closet, snatching a stray shirt off the recliner along the way. I want him to come back and answer me but I fear if he does, we’ll be doing a lot more than talking.
    He pulls the shirt down over his chest before grabbing a leather jacket and sliding his arms through the sleeves. The hem of his shirt inches up just enough to see the faint line of hair leading from his navel to below the belt of his perfectly fitted faded jeans. I lick my lips and clench my thighs.
    Then he pulls me from my burning desire as he snatches his keys.
    “Where are you going?” I say before I can stop myself.”
    “I need some air.”
    “Air?”
    He nods, his expression solemn.
    “How can I be sure you’re not going to talk to someone about Mickey and me?” As soon as I say it, I feel like an asshole. I fidget with my fingers, looking at my feet.
    “Try not to miss me,” he says.
    “I won’t.”
    A confident smile curls along his full lips, showcasing a small dimple in his left cheek.
    “I know you, don’t I?”
    He shrugs. “Do you?”
    Yes. Every inch of me feels it, and yet, I can’t place him Why can’t I place him?
    “Try to get some rest while I’m gone. You’re safe—for now.”
    With that, he walks out the door, closing it gently behind him.

Chapter Six
    T wo minutes after Damien leaves —when I’m sure he’s gone—I start searching for my phone.
    I need to talk to Carrie.
    Damien wants to avoid my questions? Fine. I’ll get my answers the old-fashioned way. I’ll ask Carrie, then I’ll Google him and…wait…what’s his last name? I don’t even know his last name. How have I not asked him that already? Better yet, why hasn’t he volunteered it? There’s a better question.
    Is he trying to be mysterious? No, that’s ridiculous.
    The only reason that makes any sense is that he’s hiding something from me. Something unforgivable . And if I could just remember him, I would have my answers. But I have nothing. No memories at all, just a nagging feeling in my gut.
    I check under cushions, in my clothes, under Mickey’s bed, in the bathroom. Where the hell did I put it?
    “Not everyone is out to get you,” he said. Hah! And I’m supposed to take his word for it? Trust him because he’s so open and honest. He’s already admitted to lying to me and playing games with me in the bar. I should have punched him in the nuts for that.
    Where the hell is my phone? I pick up cushions and toss them back down on the couch.
    I should hope he has nothing to hide. That would make life easier—for both Mickey and me, but I don’t hope for that. Not even a little. I want him to prove me right, to be the asshole I expect him to be because then I’ll know how to deal with him. Otherwise, I’ll feel lost and vulnerable and completely out of my depth.
    “Ah ha!” I say when I find my phone under the radiator by the chair I slept on. Then