Fiona flinched, and the action had Callum’s fingers twitching to touch her. Make sure she was okay.
She stumbled back a step. “I didn’t…I wasn’t there!”
The truth. The woman looked and sounded like she was speaking the truth. But how the hell was that possible? He’d seen her in that room. “You didn’t go to Tamarack Lodge today?”
“No. I’ve never been there in my life!”
Before he could turn those words over in his head, she spun around, her steps quick. Callum followed into her bedroom, where she was already at her dresser, one drawer open. At first, she just shuffled her clothes around, but with each passing second, her actions became more erratic.
“It’s here. It has to be here.” Her breath shortened, then sweaters began to fly across the room as she threw them out one by one.
“Fiona—”
“No, Callum. It’s here. I’m going to show you my red sweater and prove that you didn’t see what you think you saw.” She slammed the drawer closed, then opened the next one. “Maybe I put it somewhere else. Maybe I was tired and put it with my T-shirts.”
She was still speaking the truth. What the fuck was going on?
This time, shirts flew behind her, landing on top of the sweaters littering the floor.
When Fiona cursed, emotion clogging her voice, he stepped behind her and wrapped his fingers around her wrists, halting her movements.
“Stop.” The single word was soft but firm. He held her securely enough so that she wasn’t able to move, but not so tightly he’d bruise her.
For a moment, she did. Clothes stopped flying, her arms stilled. That only lasted for a second, then she shook her head. “No! I need to find it.”
She tugged and pulled at his hold.
He swore. “Fiona, stop.”
“You said she was wearing my sweater. But she couldn’t have been. There can’t be a person walking around out there who looks like me and dresses in the exact same clothes!”
She pulled and twisted so hard, he cursed again and released her. But instead of returning to her drawer, she moved to the closet and started pulling clothes from the hangers.
He took a small step forward. “Fiona. Talk to me. If that wasn’t you today, do you know who it was?” She had to know something, because the two women were identical.
She kept pushing through clothes, each outfit shoved with more violence. “Things have been happening. Things that don’t make sense. And I’ve been pushing everything aside and ignoring it because there’s already too much going on, and I haven’t been able to convince myself any of this is possible.”
Her hands shook violently, and her chest rose and fell so aggressively he was scared she’d hyperventilate.
“Freddie said I was giving him mixed signals at the wedding, but I wasn’t. Then today, Rick said something happened between us, but literally nothing has happened with him. And at the wedding, I saw…” Her breath caught, her knees shook, and she grabbed a hanging dress for support.
He couldn’t keep his distance any longer. He shot forward, wrapped his fingers around her hips, and touched his lips to her ear. “Stop and breathe.”
“I-I can’t. I don’t understand what’s happening!”
Her words and the guttural pain in them sliced at him. With gentle pressure on her hips, he turned and lifted her. Immediately, she wrapped her legs around his waist and tucked her head into the crook of his neck.
Some of the anguish left his chest, and he carried her to the bed. The second he was sitting, he cupped her cheek. “What did you see at the wedding?”
She swallowed, her gaze moving between his eyes like she was looking for…something. Answers?
“I saw…me,” she said quietly.
He frowned, something heavy and uncomfortable settling in his gut. “What do you mean, you saw you?”
“I saw a woman who looked exactly like me on the other side of the dance floor. She wore the same dress. The same heels. Even her hair was done the same way. I was in so much shock, that I followed her.”
“That’s when you got locked outside.”
She nodded, her gaze lowering to his shirt as she smoothed out a wrinkle in the material. “When I got locked out, I convinced myself I couldn’t have seen what I thought I saw. Because it just wasn’t possible.”
“It was,” he said quietly. “Because I saw her today too.”
Her breath stuttered. “And she really looked like me?”
“Exactly like you.”
A shudder raced down her spine, and he tugged her closer.
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. How could a random person look like me, down to the birthmark?”
“A relative, perhaps?” It was weak, but right now, it was the best he could think of.
“I don’t really look like any of my family.”
He shifted some hair behind her ear. “Have your parents ever mentioned any relatives you haven’t met?”
“No. But I could ask. I could go to that dinner.”
“That’s a good idea.” And even better that he’d be there and would be able to tell if they were lying.
“Freddie will probably be there.”
His muscles bunched. “We’ll explain to him it wasn’t you in his room.”
“And we’ll have to tell Amanda what he’s been doing. That will be fun,” she said sarcastically. Her gaze moved to the clothes on the floor. “Someone’s pretending to be me, Callum. Someone who has a key to my home. Someone who knows me well enough to know I have a birthmark.”
Her breathing increased too quickly again, and he touched his forehead to hers. “Hey. We’ll work this out. Together.”
She closed her eyes, cupping his head.
He kissed her, and that kiss went a long way in calming the storm of emotions inside him at thinking he’d lost her today. Because he had. For a few hours, he’d had to live with the thought that she’d gone back to her ex. That she was no longer his. And that had almost shattered him.
Fiona rolled onto her side and reached across for Callum. When she felt cold sheets, her eyes flicked open. It was the middle of the night, but Callum wasn’t here.
With a grimace, she pushed up to a sitting position. They’d eaten a quick dinner and gone to bed early, although it had taken her a long time to fall asleep. Callum had helped, with gentle strokes on her back and whispers in her ear.
Where was he?
A soft sound caught her attention. It was barely a whisper of fingers hitting laptop keys.
Slowly, she pushed the sheets off and rose to her feet. Callum’s T-shirt fell to her knees, and her toes sank into the soft carpet as she left the room. She stopped at the sight of Callum on the couch, laptop out. His brows were furrowed, like he was deep in concentration. Then his gaze shot up, and he smiled at her. He was good at that…pretending he was fine so she wouldn’t worry.
“Hey, beautiful. Did I wake you?”
“No, I did that on my own.” She tilted her head. “Everything okay?”
A bit of the smile slipped, and he held out a hand. She didn’t hesitate, crossing the room and sliding into the crook of his arm. “I found something.”
She tried not to react to the way he said those words, like he knew she wouldn’t like whatever it was. “Tell me.”
“I cross-checked the information on your birth certificate and hospital records.”
When he paused, she almost didn’t want to ask. “What is it?”
“Your birth certificate says you were born at Jensenville Memorial Hospital…but there are no records of you ever being born there.”
She shook her head, rolling his words over. “That…that doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
“So…my parents lied to me about my birth? Why?” Thoughts tumbled around in her head. She gasped. “Do you think… Could I have a twin sister somewhere?”
That was the only thing that made sense. A woman who looked exactly like her? It had to be an identical twin, right?
“Maybe.”
“But why would my parents lie about that? And where has she been all these years?”
Every word out of her mouth had her heart beating faster, the fabric of the life she’d thought she knew being torn apart right in front of her.
“Hey,” Callum said, and she looked at him. “Right now, all we know is that your birth certificate doesn’t match any hospital records. We’ll ask your parents about it, and we’ll figure this out.”
That required entirely too much patience. She wanted it sorted out now. A sister…a living, breathing sister. Someone she’d possibly shared a womb with. God, what had happened? Why hadn’t she grown up with her?
As if seeing her slow derailment, he cupped her cheek. “Trust me to help you through this.”
She did. She trusted this man with her life, and she was so grateful for him.
Her gaze slid down to his lips, and her belly did a little somersault. Suddenly, all she wanted was something she knew was real—him.
Reaching out, she closed the laptop, lowered it to the coffee table, and climbed onto his lap.
Callum sucked in a sharp breath. “Fiona—”
She kissed him, slipped her tongue between his lips, and let it dance with his. His fingers dug into the flesh on her hips as she ground her core against his hard length. It created an instant inferno in her belly, a storm of need and desire for this man.
Gently, she grazed her fingers down his hard chest until she met the top of his sleep pants. She was just reaching inside when his fingers wrapped around her wrists, halting her.
“Fiona, I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now.”
She slid her tongue over his bottom lip, then whispered against his mouth, “I need to feel you.”
There was a small pause as she continued to taste him. Nipped and teased. Then he released her wrist, and she slid her fingers inside his pants and briefs and wrapped her fingers around him. An instant growl tore from his chest, and she let that spur on her own need.
She tugged him out and slid her fingers and palm over his hardness, touching every inch of him, reveling in every groan and ripple from his chest.
“Jesus, Fi. You’re killing me.”
A strong, warm hand smoothed up her thigh before slipping between her legs. He slid his fingers inside her panties and grazed her clit. Sparks shot through her belly. Her back arched, and she bit back a moan.
“So damn sensitive,” he growled.
He touched her again, sliding over her, alternating between firm caresses and circular motions that created waves of sweet tension. Her back bowed again, and he tugged her toward his mouth, wrapped his lips around her nipple through her shirt.
She cried out—a long, anguished cry. He continued to work her clit and play with her nipple, until she couldn’t take it any longer. She inched up so his cock sat at her entrance. His fingers gripped her panties, and with one tug, he tore them from her body. Then, slowly, she sank onto him. Her walls stretched, and she had to remind herself to breathe. To allow the air to flow in and out of her lungs.
Once he was seated all the way inside her, she leaned forward and captured his lips once more. “You undo me, Callum Thomas.”
The second the words were out, she started to move, rising and falling in even thrusts, allowing him to fill her so completely she felt empty on every rise.
She grabbed his shoulder, trying to anchor herself as he latched onto her hips. He lifted her higher, bringing her down harder. It was different from any time before. More desperate. More intimate. And she loved every second, needing it to be exactly what it was in this moment.
When her shirt was tugged up, air hit her breasts, which bounced with her thrusts. Again, he latched onto her nipple, and every muscle clenched with pleasure. She screamed his name, her voice getting caught on the word. Her body was in turmoil, her blood pumping so fast it roared between her ears.
He released one nipple and moved to the other, while his hand returned to her clit. It was too much, her body was in overdrive. She tried to draw out the moment, to continue to thrust so she didn’t lose him, but all too soon her walls convulsed, and she broke around him.
“Fuck, I love that sound.”
His hand returned to her hip, and he kept lifting her up and thrusting her back down until he growled again, finally coming apart.
