Stay With Me

by Cynthia Eden

  “John Smith didn’t have a wife. You saw that in the obituary.” His obituary. How warped was that?

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t have a lover out there. Someone who is missing you. Someone who needs you.”

  “I was trapped in that hell for months.” He’d tried hard to keep track of the days, but sometimes they’d all blurred together. “And I don’t remember any other woman. Don’t remember any lover. Only you.”

  “I still don’t understand how. Why.” Her lashes swept down to cover her gaze. “Do you think you saw me, in Miami? Because that’s where I live. Perhaps our paths did cross, but how could I forget you?” Her lashes lifted. Her stare held his. “I don’t think I could ever forget someone like you.”

  He didn’t speak.

  “Even though you knew the shooter was out there, you ran to save that mother and her son on the street. You might not remember who you were before you woke up in that lab,” she gave him a quick smile, “but I think I’m learning a whole lot about the kind of man you were. The man you are. You risked your life to save strangers.”

  John shook his head. “I would have come back even if I’d taken a shot in the heart. We both know that.”

  She studied him a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think that thought ever entered your mind. You saw someone in danger, and you stepped up. You want to know who you were before? I can tell you. You were a good man.” She gave a quick nod. “A brave man.”

  She didn’t understand. Didn’t know about the darkness he could so often feel inside of himself. A fury that grew to a chilling degree. A twisted hate that had festered for the scientists and doctors in that godforsaken lab. And earlier, when she’d been with Blane and the sheriff had been touching her, jealousy had burned within John. Dark emotions seemed to thrive within him. “I’m not so sure I am good.”

  Her smile stretched. “Then I’ll have to prove to you that you are.” Her fingers slid up his arm. Paused at his shoulder. “This is the second shirt that a bullet has ruined.”

  Two for two.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and shower off the blood? I’ll get you a towel.” She backed away.

  Retreated.

  He stood there, aware of the fire crackling behind him. He watched as she turned and headed toward the darkened hallway. “We aren’t going to talk about it?”

  She stilled. “It?”

  “The kiss. The fact that I got one taste of you and nearly went mad because I wanted so much more. I still want more. I’m staring at you right now, and I want to touch you. Want to taste you.”

  She raised her hand, pressing it against the wall. “What if there’s someone else out there for you?”

  “There isn’t.” He was absolutely certain of that.

  She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze finding his.

  “There is only you.” He knew that, deep in his bones.

  But she looked away. “I-I’ll get that towel.” And she ran from him.

  That was okay, though. They were alone in the cabin. Wasn’t like he couldn’t find her. Wasn’t like she could escape.

  ***

  Put down the towel and walk away.

  Shelly paused outside of the guest bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and tendrils of steam snaked into the hallway. Water thundered from inside, and she knew that John was already in the shower. She should just slide her hand inside, put the towel on the sink and hurry away.

  That was absolutely what she should do.

  And she would do it.

  She rapped on the door and raised her voice. “John! I’ve got a towel. I’m just going to put it on the sink.” She slipped her hand inside, fumbling around and then—then warm, strong fingers curled around her wrist.

  The door had opened fully. More steam slid out, wrapping around her.

  John was there. Clad only in the jeans that hung low on his hips. His face was cut into hard, determined lines, and his eyes glittered.

  “Wanted to bring it to you—um, the towel, I mean.” She tried tugging on her wrist. He didn’t let her go. “I’ll be in the den if you need me.”

  “I do.”

  He still hadn’t let her go.

  He had taken the towel and tossed it aside. His fingers slid along her inner wrist and the soft caress had her breath coming faster.

  “I do need you, Shelly. You’ve been in more fantasies than I can count. I need you. I want you. Let’s both be very clear about that.”

  Her heart was racing too fast.

  Only…he let her go. “But you’re still scared of me. And I hate that. I’ll say it a thousand times, I’ll never hurt you. You can trust me.”

  They’d just met. They’d—

  “You say I’m a good man. You think I am. Baby, I can be so good to you. I can give you so much pleasure. Just give me the chance.”

  Oh, wow.

  His hands fell to the snap of his jeans. “The shower is more than big enough for two.”

  Yes, yes it was. But…

  If I cross this line…She was very much afraid of what would happen. Not afraid of him. Afraid of herself. Afraid of the way she’d absolutely lost control with his kiss. One kiss wasn’t supposed to make her ignite that way. One kiss wasn’t supposed to send her body flying into overdrive. One kiss wasn’t supposed to make her go wild.

  But it had.

  He had.

  She hurried out of the bathroom, pulling the door shut as she exited. Then she just stood in the hallway, trying to get her composure back. She wasn’t used to men like John. Men who just said what they wanted. No games. Men who were so strong and dominant. The closest she’d come to someone like him…that had been Blane. And they’d sure crashed and burned as lovers.

  Would she crash and burn with John? Even if she did, would the pleasure be worth it? Because judging by the way the man could kiss, she was sure he’d be one hell of a lover.

  Her hand rose and pressed to the wood of the bathroom door. All she had to do was go inside.

  There was no one there to judge. Just her. Just John.

  She wanted him. He wanted her.

  So why was she hesitating? Why not take the risk? Why not take him?

  Get a grip, Shelly. She was running on adrenaline. That was it. Her emotions were out of control, and she just needed to calm the hell down. Shelly hurried away from the bathroom and returned to the den. She’d kicked off her shoes when she first arrived at the cabin, and now she sat on the rug before the fire, curling her bare feet beneath her.

  She stared at the flames and she tried very, very hard to get her much needed grip.

  ***

  He watched the cabin. Saw the lights shining from inside. Caught the scent of the smoke drifting on the breeze. Shelly Hampton was in that cabin. His target. But she wasn’t alone.

  That damn bastard was with her. The fool who should have been dead. The guy was getting in his way. Screwing things up.

  He’d worked too long and too hard for screw-ups. His rifle was on the ground beside him, but it was useless right then. He didn’t have a shot. He didn’t see anyone near the windows. For all he knew, Shelly and the bastard were fucking somewhere in the cabin.

  He reached into his boot. Pulled out a knife. The same knife he’d used on her brother. He’d never killed anyone with a knife before. Not until Charles Hampton. But it had been surprisingly easy. And it had felt…

  Personal. Only fair, really. The kill had been personal. Exactly what you fucking deserved.

  Maybe he’d use the knife on Shelly, too. Give her what she deserved.

  But first, he’d have to get rid of her protection. The asshole who thought he could play hero.

  Wrong move. The hero was going to get a swift trip straight to hell.

  Chapter Six

  His hair was still wet when John strode into the den. He followed Shelly’s sweet scent into the room and found her gazing at the fire. She looked so small curled on the rug, and her long hair trailed over her shoulders. He didn’t think he
’d made a sound, but she gave a little start and glanced back at him.

  Her cheeks were a soft pink. Probably from the warmth of the fire. Her lips were red, full, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how they’d felt beneath his mouth. She still wore her green sweater and the jeans that hugged her legs and hips so well.

  She still made him ache.

  “That was fast.” She gave him one of her quick smiles. The smile that vanished so quickly it didn’t have a chance to light her eyes. “I thought you’d stay in there longer.”

  “And I thought that if I did, you’d escape upstairs.” He headed toward her. Hesitated, and stared down at her. He wore a fresh pair of jeans, and he knew they weren’t doing much to hide his arousal. That was the thing—he pretty much just had to look at Shelly and he got turned on. “The cold water didn’t help.”

  Her gaze dipped down his body then snapped back to his face. The red on her cheeks deepened. She jumped to her feet. “John—”

  “Didn’t expect it to help.” But he’d needed to try something. “I can keep my hands off you, baby. You don’t need to worry.” His hands were at his sides even though he did want them on her. It was her call, though. Everything—her choice.

  “I do worry.” Her voice was low. Her gaze never left his. “Because I know what will happen if you do touch me. I was in here, staring at the fire, and thinking about exactly what would happen.”

  “You want me to leave.” Hell, he couldn’t leave her. He was sure she was in danger and—

  “I’ve lost so many people that I care about this year. I’ve been on my own, just trying to put one foot in front of the other and survive.” She rocked forward a bit. “I haven’t been thinking about the future. I’ve been thinking about one moment at a time. It’s how I’ve gotten through the days and nights.”

  “Shelly…”

  “I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to you. I don’t think I’m supposed to feel this way.”

  “Maybe you don’t need to think about what you’re ‘supposed’ to do.” His words were a rumble, too rough and hard. That was how he felt around her. Too rough. Too dangerous. She was silk and sensuality, and he was darkness. Trouble. Hell, what was he doing? He turned away from her.

  But Shelly’s hand flew out and curled around his arm. “I was always the good girl growing up. Never took any risks. Didn’t fall for the bad guys that my big brother warned me about.”

  John rubbed his hand over his chest, aware of a sudden ache.

  “Playing it safe didn’t stop me from hurting.” Her fingers slid up his arm and his eager cock jerked. Just from that little touch. “I guess we can get hurt no matter what we do.”

  His body was tight. “You should stop touching me.”

  “Why?”

  He’d be blunt. “Because it makes me want to fuck you. And I don’t think that’s what you—”

  “I’m ready for a risk.”

  John shook his head. She hadn’t just said that.

  “Life is short. I learned that lesson the hard way. Well,” now she gave a quick, nervous laugh, “I guess it’s short for anyone but you.”

  She was still touching him. Her fingers slid down his arm in a light caress.

  “I stared into the fire, and I thought about having your hands all over me. I thought about what we could do together. I thought about risks. I thought about tomorrow.” She came closer, and she put her mouth on him. A light kiss that grazed his arm. “And I thought that I didn’t care. I’ve never felt this way.” She stared up at him. “Never wanted someone so much that I forget to be good.”

  She was saying that she wanted to be with him.

  His hands had fisted. But her hand lowered, and her fingers closed around his right fist. Her touch was so soft. “Come upstairs with me,” Shelly whispered.

  Then she let him go. She strode toward the staircase, and his gaze dropped to her hips. Sexy as hell hips. She paused at the base of the stairs, her hand rising to rest against the banister. “That is…if you want to…”

  Did he look like a fool? John bounded toward her, and he scooped Shelly up into his arms. If she wanted him, then she’d get everything that he had to give. He carried her up those stairs, practically running because he was so eager.

  “The first door on the right,” Shelly told him. “It’s—”

  He already knew which room was hers. Her sexy scent was stronger in there. He kicked open the door and carried her inside. He put her down near the bed, and John fought hard to not rip off her clothes.

  Shelly smiled at him. Then her hands went to the hem of her sweater. She lifted it over her head and dropped it to the floor. Her breasts were covered by a silky, red bra. Sexy as fuck. Her hand went to the waist of her jeans, and she unhooked the button. Lowered the zipper. The jeans slid down her body, and his gaze locked on the matching red underwear that covered her sex. Barely a scrap.

  He took a step back.

  “John?” Now her voice was husky, hesitant.

  He forced his teeth to unclench. “I’m worried…I’ll be too…rough.” Even his voice sounded like grating nails.

  But Shelly just gave a light laugh and moved closer to him. “Rough isn’t a problem. In the right circumstances…” Her fingers trailed over his chest, leaving a path of fire on his skin. “I think it can be sexy.”

  His heart was about to jump out of his chest, and his dick was rock hard. He wanted nothing more than to strip away the scrap of silk over her sex. To tear it away. To plunge into her.

  Shelly didn’t get it. Rough for him was dangerous. He had to control his strength at every single moment. Especially with her. He could never hurt her. And he had to make sure she enjoyed the sex between them. Not just enjoyed it—he needed her to crave him. To want him as badly as he did her.

  Once wasn’t going to be enough for him. He already knew that.

  He needed her as lost and obsessed as he was.

  “John…” Her fingers slid down his stomach, hovered over the top of his jeans. “You don’t…if you don’t remember your own name, if you don’t remember anything before that lab…” She swiped her tongue over her lower lip, and he growled instinctively. I want her mouth. “Then do you remember having sex?”

  He’d had fantasies…fantasies of her. Fantasies of them on the beach, of him stripping away her bikini.

  “Have you had sex since you got out of the lab?”

  “No.” But he knew what sex was. And he knew what he wanted from Shelly.

  She unbuttoned his jeans. “I can help you. I can show you anything you need to know.” With a soft hiss, the zipper pulled down.

  He wasn’t wearing underwear, and his overeager cock shoved toward her hands. And when she stroked him, when her fingers curled around him, pumping him from root to head…Fucking good. His breath shuddered out.

  She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his chest. Then another. Light, soft kisses as she made her way to his nipple. And her tongue was sliding against him, flicking, tempting, even as her hands squeezed and pumped and pushed him—too far.

  He picked her up. Dropped her on the bed.

  “John—”

  He grabbed the scrap of red around her hips. He meant to just pull the panties off her, but they tore, exposing her sex to him. Her bare, pretty pink sex. Her legs were splayed apart, but his hands closed around her thighs and he widened them even more.

  The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears. He had what he wanted. Right there. He had her. And he was going to take her.

  John put his mouth on her. Her hips heaved up, arching toward him, and his hands moved, fast, locking her in place, keeping her still beneath his mouth so that he could lick and kiss and taste. And the more he tasted, the wilder he grew. He’d looked for her, searched for her, hunted for her. She’d been in his head for so long.

  But now she was beneath his mouth.

  Now she was his.

  “John!” His name burst from her, high-pitched, breaking with pleasure as she s
huddered beneath him.

  He looked up and saw that her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. She was so incredibly beautiful as she climaxed. As she came—for him.

  He couldn’t wait. He pulled back, started to put his cock at the entrance to her body—

  “Protection,” Shelly gasped out. “In…nightstand…”

  He opened the nightstand. Found a box of condoms there.

  “Picked them up…” She was still gasping. “While you were…getting clothes earlier…thought…just in-in case…”

  He smiled at her. “Not just in case,” he told her and he bent, pressing a kiss to her throat. “I’ll always want you.” He tore open the condom wrapper, but her soft fingers took it from him. She smoothed the condom over his dick, and he had to lock every muscle in his body so he could stay sane a little longer.

  Explode in her. Take her. Take…

  “There,” Shelly whispered. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  But she still had on her bra. And he had to see her breasts. Had to lick them. Kiss them. He slid his hand behind her back and jerked open the bra’s clasp. Then he was shoving her bra out of the way. Her nipples were tight and dark pink, and he took one into his mouth even as he drove into her.

  Drove so deep.

  She cried out his name.

  He kept licking her nipple. Sucking. Kissing. Growing rougher with every second that passed. She was so tight. Hot. His hands fisted in the bedding beneath her, yanking up the sheet and balling it in his fingers.

  He thrust into her. Withdrew. Sank deep.

  She climaxed around him. Shelly gave a quick scream as her body bucked beneath him, and her sex squeezed him with the contractions of her release.

  He’d given her pleasure. Brought her to the brink. Pushed her beyond.

  My turn. He let go. Became absolutely fierce. His mouth was on her body. Licking. Kissing. Marking her. He released the sheets. Grabbed her legs and pushed them over his shoulders so that he could have full access to her. So that he could have everything.

  He wanted to mark her inside and out. He wanted her to mark him. He needed to brand this moment in his mind so that he could never forget it. So that no one could ever take it from him.