by Sosie Frost
“You’ve done what before?”
I didn’t like the way it felt. I busied myself, fluffing a pillow on the couch to make him more comfortable.
“Evie.”
The memory sickened me. The fear. The uncertainty.
Enough of my past had flashed in my head to get a good idea of where I came from and what challenges I’d faced. That fear was something I understood.
In my past, in my community, people got hurt. Men and women did things they knew were illegal because it was the only way to survive. So many of us learned that it was either someone else’s blood on the concrete, or…
My stomach turned.
How could I ever expect him to understand? Shepard was a cop. A good man. A hero.
And he’d been roughed up on the job by the type of man who haunted my past. One stuck in a system that had long forgotten about them. What was I supposed to tell a man who put his life on that blue line every night to protect the city from…
People like me.
Women who knew how to mend their man’s wounds so they wouldn’t need a doctor, so the fight would go unreported.
Men who’d commit a crime to feed a struggling family.
The law was the law, unbreakable and suffocating.
No wonder he hadn’t come for me. The father of my baby might have been in jail. Hiding from the police.
Or maybe…
He was dead?
And that was the reality of my past. Those were the memories buried deep, the secrets Shepard fought to uncover.
He rested on the couch with a groan. He took my hand. I didn’t tug it away.
“I think I have a type,” I said. “Men with bruises.”
“Sounds like a fetish to me.”
“You gonna lend me your nightstick?”
“I’ll get the body armor. We’ll make a night of it.”
Neither of us smiled. I dabbed the cloth against his forehead once more.
“What is that?” he asked.
“…Pretend it’s ice cream.”
“Should I get the chocolate sauce?”
“Depends on how brave you are.”
“My courage knows no bounds.”
I stared into his eyes. A dark splotch marred that perfect blue. “I believe you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“You’re the bravest man I know.”
His voice lowered. He pushed away the frozen pack. I didn’t realize how close I sat to him until his fingers twisted in a lock of my hair.
“The thing is, Evie…” Shepard’s words rumbled in my chest, commanding despite how softly he tried to speak. “I’m a coward.”
“You’re not.”
“I’ve been paralyzed with fear since that day I found you.”
“That makes two of us.” Except I had him to lean on. Did he realize how important he was to me?
Had I ever told him?
Could I tell him?
“Don’t,” I whispered. “It’s late. You should rest.”
“We have to talk. I have to tell you what...”
I leaned in, but my kiss pressed only against his unbruised cheek. “I know how you feel.”
Because I felt it too.
“It’s more than that.”
“I want to forget the past,” I said. “But I’m afraid to let it go.”
“Evie, I can’t do this to you.”
“You’re not doing anything to me, Shepard. This is my choice.”
“There’s so much about me you don’t know.”
My fingertips trailed over his face, the roughness of his beard, the soft promise of his lips. “I know more about you than my own life.”
“You don’t.”
“Then show me.”
He fought my kiss. “I don’t deserve you. So much has happened—”
“Why should that matter?”
“Because it isn’t fair to you.” He stared at me, jaw clenching. “I want you so much, Evie. But the things I’ve done…my past…the man I was…”
“That man isn’t here now.” I closed my eyes. “What if…for one night…we ignored the past?”
“Then what would we have?”
“The only thing I do have…” I lifted his hand, covering my heart with his calloused palm. “Right now. This beat. That’s what’s getting me through every day, every minute, every second of this…loneliness.”
“I shouldn’t want you.”
“But you do.”
Shepard pulled me closer, murmuring his protests against my lips. “How am I supposed to resist you?”
“Why are you trying?”
“You deserve better than me. You deserve the truth.”
Shepard guided me to his lap. I straddled him, crushing myself against his body.
My words strengthened. “I know what I feel. Why do we keep fighting this?”
“Because I’m not worth it, Evie. Believe me.” His words warmed against my throat. His lips trembled with his plea. “I’d take it. You. In a heartbeat. But I’m not the man you think I am. I’m wrong for you. And this…this will only ruin everything.”
“Don’t you want me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you care about me?”
“Of course.”
“Then there’s no problem.”
He swore. “Evie, I’m bound by my past too. I can’t forget the things that I’ve done. I can’t make it go away. And I can’t ask for forgiveness. Not now. Not if I…” He kissed me, and I tasted the frustrated desire that burned through us both. “Not if I want to do what I need to do.”
My core clenched. “Tell me?”
“I have to take you.” His hands gripped hard. “Make you mine. Bury myself in you over and over until it doesn’t matter what’s happened in the past or what will come of any mistake we make.”
“This doesn’t feel like a mistake.”
“It’s worse…” Shepard’s hand brushed my cheek, capturing me in his grasp. “This will destroy us.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Are you willing to take that risk?”
The only thing I risked was an unknowable history and a man cloaked in mystery.
I remembered wanting out. I’d loved him, but the red stain of blood in the sink was just as vibrant in my mind now as it was then. I needed an escape. I longed to find a safe place for the two of us. For the baby. For the future I knew we’d never have.
I’d already ruined my past.
I’d already lost that love.
I couldn’t lose another. Not now. Not Shepard.
The stress of this damned amnesia trapped me in a prison of my own mind. Shepard wasn’t the key but the key hole—a thin sliver of light in an endless darkness that led me to the lock.
But it remained frozen in place.
And yet his touch, his kiss, his words comforted me. It felt right in his arms. Stealing—no, enjoying—his kiss. His body warmed me, his hands held me, and his eyes…
I had no idea what they wanted to confess.
But I knew it wouldn’t matter.
“I want to tell you the truth…” Shepard whispered. “About what happened, about…her.”
“She’s gone.” I brushed a hand against his cheek. “Whoever I loved is gone too.”
“It’s important.”
“More important than this? More important than us? Right now?”
“Nothing is more important than this, Evie. Nothing.”
“Then prove it. Please.” I welcomed his kiss, his lips, the hardness that pressed against me. “I don’t want to worry about the past now. I just want…” I touched his chest. “This. You. Us. Is that wrong?”
His hand trailed under my shirt, pulling it over my head. “This will never be wrong.”
“Will it ever be right?”
“God, I hope so.”
His growl heated everything inside me. Shepard rested me back against the couch, ripping off his shirt if only to press his hot skin against mine. Ou
r hands wrestled against each other, tugging at jeans and forcing our bodies closer.
Touching. Caressing.
It’d never be enough.
I needed more than another quick tease and quicker release brought from his generosity. The pleasure he’d offered that night was amazing, but it wasn’t a connection. It had ended before we had moved together, before we understood each other.
And that was what I had truly lost when my memories faded. The bond between two people. Something so precious and wild and unknowing that it had created a life.
I had that—once. But that man was gone.
And in his place…
Shepard offered me everything.
He tasted every inch of my skin, and I savored the contrast between the lightness of his lips and the rich sable of my fingers, arms, breasts, navel. His kisses pressed everywhere. Gentle, fluttering moments of peace that promised a delicate touch but turned wicked with a naughty nip.
I wiggled over him, but Shepard took command. He rolled me onto my back, and I wove my legs over his waist to bring him close. His chest, bare and thick, shielded me in protective, lean muscle.
That strength had saved him today. Purple bruises dotted his side. A scrape reddened his back. I imagined the fight. He’d fallen, and that was the criminal’s opening for the punch. He had hit Shepard while he was down but underestimated his power.
Actually…I didn’t want to imagine it.
Words caught in my throat. Shepard kissed them away.
“I’m fine.” His lips nibbled down, trailing over my breasts to the cotton panties. He tugged them off and stared at me as I meant for him to see me—naked, begging, wanting him. “I survived.”
“You were hurt.”
“I had someone waiting for me at home. Gives a guy good motivation to fight.”
But it didn’t give me any comfort. I shivered as his fingers danced over my thighs, delighting in the sensitive secret that slickened for him.
“I wasn’t worried about you before…” I breathed.
“Don’t start now.”
“Too late.”
His grin teased like another touch. “Then I’ll have to distract you…”
“You might have to work pretty hard.”
Now he laughed. “I know just how to please you, Evie. It’s not hard work. This?” His finger drew along my slit. I whimpered as the flick twisted me from the inside out. “This is practically instinct.”
I had plenty of those.
Dangerous ones. Aching ones. Desperate ones.
I arched, and Shepard eased my ache with a quick and knowing stroke.
But it wasn’t enough.
Every enthralling touch, each whispered word, was a promise of something more.
Something dark and thrilling.
Something new and exciting.
Something for us.
“Shepard…please.” Rolling shivers tickled over my body, tamed only where he touched, caressed, kissed. “I need you.”
“I’ve waited to hear you say it.”
“I was too afraid before.”
He kissed me, his hands at his belt. “I’ll take care of you. I promise that.”
“Just for one night?”
“For as long as you’ll have me…” He stared at my waiting, writhing body. “Even if you never forgive me.”
“Forgive you for what?”
“Tonight.”
He spoke in riddles, and his kiss was all I understood. I welcomed it. Breathed for it. Ached as his jeans kicked away and he leaned over me, flesh against flesh, heat against heat.
How did a man this gorgeous exist? He held himself with harden muscles, a perfect mold of strength and masculinity. Power. Still lean, but fierce.
My gaze lowered.
Amazing.
Even his hardened and pulsing length seemed made for me. Not intimidating, but untamed. Not dangerous, but my heart pounded just the same.
He was everything I needed to feel…
God, I just wanted to feel something.
He held me close, stroking his shaft and rubbing the quivering part of me tensing for his conquest. He swallowed, staring at my offered body.
I couldn’t understand his amazement.
“Are you sure?” His fist tugged hard. “Tell me now…or I might not be able to stop.”
I answered with a bump of my hips, pressing against his hardness with a welcoming slickness. “I need this. I need you.”
“I can’t resist you, Evie.” His words strained. He pushed against me, and the shock of his entry stole my voice. “Please forgive me.”
There was nothing to forgive.
Only pleasure. Only comfort.
Only peace.
Shepard entered me with a powerful strike, a moment of pure claiming that shattered me into oblivion and rebuilt me in time for the second thrust of his body.
I didn’t remember the last time I had been taken, and now it no longer mattered.
This. This was what it was like to be with a man. This was what it was like to submit and be worshiped and to give everything—every thought, every fear, every desire to the one who healed any wound and silenced all doubt.
He rocked within me, holding me, murmuring nonsense as every moment he stretched my body locked us together in a dizzying moment of truth.
It was familiar. It was foreign. It was exciting. It was terrifying.
A new pressure built inside me. I clung to Shepard, sweating as he did, groaning with his movements, begging for that release of…
Truth? Connection?
Just physical pleasure?
Every motion brought me closer, but Shepard’s words stung as he whispered. Beautiful words. Haunting promises.
Sorrowful regret.
“Evie…” He breathed. “I don’t deserve this…you…”
I whimpered, my lips aching for a kiss not hushed confessions. “More, more.”
Our bodies shifted and tensed, burned and shivered in a barrage of twisting, delirious, aching pressure. I groaned and offered him everything. My tightness. My body. My voice. And he filled me in absolute perfection, as if I had been built for him, crafted for his very pleasure and rewarded with the thrill of my own.
But he lowered himself, arms on either side of me, my legs wrapped over his waist. His words broke. His thrust quickened.
And his sweet voice cracked—whispered to someone other than me.
My desire cast me in heat, a drenched inferno of desperation and loneliness and crushing emotion for a man I shouldn’t have wanted, shouldn’t have touched, shouldn’t have allowed so close to me.
I had no one but Shepard.
But he had someone else. Someone in his memories. Someone he had betrayed.
And, as our bodies trembled and tensed, I no longer knew where his mind was.
The crippling pleasure took everything from me. Mind. Body. Whisper. I gripped his arms and gasped, offering my lips as he guided me through a mind-rending clash of silken agony and desperate excitement. We crested together. Gave ourselves to the other.
In that moment, I connected with another person. I offered him what he had lost.
Affection. Desire. Devotion.
But something in his past severed our bond. It dragged him from me in a single regretted breath.
I had given my heart to Shepard.
But he made love to a ghost.
14
The only delight better than a leisurely hot shower? Suds’ing it up with someone else.
The soap bubbles cascaded in rivers over my body. Shepard pooled the shower gel in his hand, and, for the second time, he massaged it over my silky skin. The water pounded the stall. His lips brushed my neck, the only part of our morning hotter than the water.
His hardness brushed against my back. Better than a cup of coffee in the morning. Every touch sizzled me, every promise an energizing buzz of shivered promise.
His hands gripped my hips. I arched.
And the baby s
tarted to cry.
I sighed, bumping my head against the shower stall. Shepard groaned, but he pulled away.
“I’ll get her,” he said. “You can finish.”
“She’s hungry.”
“I’ll get her diaper at least.”
“Sex and diaper changes. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Both at the same time?”
“That’s a relief, actually.”
He grinned, ducking out of the water to grab a towel. “Take your time, Momma. You deserve a shower.”
“Only because you got me so sweaty last night.”
“Job well done.”
I smirked. “We’ll see if you can replicate it tonight.”
“That a challenge?”
“Consider the panties thrown down.”
He left the bathroom with a chuckle. “Always knew you were trouble.”
Oh, this man.
I doused myself under the shower, flipping the water to cold. It didn’t help. My core tightened. My body tingled. My mind dizzied itself with terrible and wonderful images.
And Shepard took care of the baby before leaving for work.
How was it that we fell into such a fantastic routine?
Four days ago, I’d given myself to him in a wild and unplanned moment of passion. Now?
He had breakfast on the table—or at least, some toast in the toaster.
He’d kissed me goodbye before leaving for work—and he’d given Clue an extra cuddle on his way out the door.
He returned at dinner, famished and tired but so proud of the good he did and the lives he changed and the weight of his badge.
And then—we’d go to bed. Together. Tangled in each other’s arms. Twisting under the sheets. Taking whatever we could get from each other.
Not talking.
Not planning.
And not answering the simplest of questions.
What happens now?
I didn’t have an answer for that—hell, I hardly knew what to plan past Clue’s next feeding. My breasts were making most of my decisions, and so far, neither Clue nor Shepard had complained.
I conditioned my hair, gave it a quick detangle, then abandoned any hope of getting it styled before Clue needed her breakfast. A handy-dandy scarf worked wonders to style the curls back, and I emerged from the bathroom clean, rested, and absolutely loving that Clue babbled in Shepard’s arms, giving him big smiles and a full-belly giggle.
But Shepard wasn’t smiling. He turned up the volume on the television.
