A Case of You

by Pamela Burford

  She couldn’t resist. “Is this part of the wound check, Doctor?”

  “I’m very thorough.”

  She watched him examine the half ounce of satin and lace that all but disappeared in his big hands. “You are going to give those back, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Thinkin’ of having ‘em bronzed.” He twirled the panties, then stretched them between his fingers and let them fly like a slingshot. They hooked on a low tree branch. “Now. Long as I got you nekkid.” He peered closely at her thigh and gently touched the wound. “Bet it itches like a son of a gun. Lookin’ good, though.”

  “Good? It’s ugly.”

  “Hey, that’s my handiwork you’re maligning. Take my word for it. When this baby heals, you won’t be able to tell where it was.” He pressed a kiss to the scar. She felt the healing caress of his firm lips there, felt his warm breath curl over her thighs and between them. He eased down to lie next to her, his hands roaming in a leisurely perusal as he kissed her forehead, her temple, her ear and throat.

  His fingers stroked the side of her breast, following its shape, and she moaned softly. He bent his bead and drew her soft nipple into his hot, wet mouth. It puckered instantly with an electric tingle that sent an answering current deep between her legs. Her breath caught and her entire body tightened for one long, delirious moment. Then he settled against her and began lazily suckling.

  Kit held him to her, stroking his hair... absorbing his deep sadness into herself, to mingle with her own. She knew that instinctively he sought the solace of her body—drawing on her innate ability, as a woman, to comfort and nurture—and she freely gave him what he needed. She caressed and soothed him, staring up into the shifting pattern of green and azure, watching the sun wink in and out of view, her senses filled with the aromas of growing things drifting on the warm breeze. She’d be content to lie with him like this all day, if that’s what he wanted.

  But contentment gradually gave way to a languorous yearning as his lips and tongue tugged rhythmically on her sensitive flesh. By the time he turned his attention to the other breast, her breathing had become rapid and shallow, her legs moving restlessly. Her nipple stiffened between his teeth, sparking a deep-throated groan she was helpless to suppress. Noah shifted to lie more fully atop her, pressing the insistent ridge of his erection against her leg. He sucked with increasing vigor, the scrape of his teeth shooting flaming arrows that exploded deep and low. His hands were just as demanding, molding her soft flesh, pinching lightly.

  She raised her fingers to touch the place where they were connected, his lips firm and moist and ravenous. Helplessly she writhed against him. Were those wanton cries coming from her? Her entire body strained upward, reaching mindlessly, and she felt her climax begin to gather.

  A bird screeched on a nearby limb and she panicked, suddenly cognizant of their less-than-private surroundings, of her nudity and the shameless spectacle she presented. “Oh, God!” She pushed him off her, forcefully, and watched his initial bewilderment change to comprehension as his eyes slowly raked her. She was panting hard, miserably aware of the scorching flush of arousal from her hairline to the pebbled tips of her breasts. She couldn’t hide how close she was to release.

  His eyes blazed with ruthless determination. “You won’t hold back, Kit. I won’t let you.” Before she could object, he grabbed her wrists with both hands and pinned them near her shoulders, then lowered his head to her breast once more.

  He’d taken the decision away from her. She had no choice but to ride out the pleasure he was resolved to give her. As her throat arched and her hips lifted, she felt his hard-muscled thigh push between her legs, parting them, the coarse denim of his jeans unspeakably erotic as it slid against her bare skin. Within seconds he had her once more at the brink. All conscious thought fled as her body surged into his, into the welcome pressure of his leg.

  Then the fireball blossomed, consuming her, ripping a hoarse scream from her throat. For endless moments the world receded into pure, pulsating sensation that lifted her and held her aloft. Even after the inferno subsided, aftershocks kept her rocking against him as her own throaty whimpers filled her ears.

  Her mouth was dry and she licked her lips, blinking drowsily. Noah swaddled her in his long arms, holding her tight, gentling her with soft kisses and whispered words of love as awareness gradually returned. She felt drugged, boneless, and was vaguely aware of him stretching one arm out toward his backpack and fumbling with one of the outer pouches. She fought her postorgasmic lethargy enough to turn her head and see him toss a small foil packet onto the quilt beside them.

  “Mmm...yes...” she murmured, pressing her lips to his throat. The sound of leather snapping as he hastily jerked his belt open. The zipper next. “Uh-uh.” She grabbed his hands. Shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t.”

  Noah gaped. Eyes round, jaw slack. “Oh no, I don’t?”

  She chuckled. “I mean, oh yes, you do, but not like this.” He’d unfastened his pants but hadn’t touched his shirt or his sneakers.

  “Not like what? Tell me!”

  “Take off your clothes.”

  He relaxed slightly. She saw the hint of a smile. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

  “I will not be the only one out here buck naked!”

  “When Sister L.L. Bean comes tromping through, you mean?” Only the top two buttons of his shirt were unfastened when he pulled it over his head and flung it aside. He stood and yanked off his sneakers without untying them. No socks. No underwear, either. He almost tripped getting out of his jeans.

  Noah stood staring down at her, his gaze hungry, clearly unembarrassed by his nudity or his powerful state of arousal. He was magnificent. Kit found herself reaching up to him, silently beseeching. He lowered himself to the quilt, but when she picked up the foil packet, he took it from her and set it aside again. He kissed her fingertips, then slid down her body. She felt his fingers open her, his breath a hot feather-stroke on her damp flesh.

  His intimate kiss, the firm, leisurely caress of his tongue, stole her breath. She felt a long finger probe deeply... felt the answering clutch of her inner muscles... felt his low moan buzz into her and coax her hips off the quilt.

  “Noah.” She half raised herself to tug on his hair and dig her nails into his shoulders. “Noah!” She needed to be joined with him when the spark ignited once more. And she was so close.

  At last he raised his head and grabbed the foil packet, tearing it open. She commandeered the task, sheathing the hot, hard length of him slowly, feeling him twitch and throb under her fingers. From deep in his chest came a low growl as he pushed her back down, fitting himself to her.

  She reveled in the size and weight of him... in that glorious moment when he pressed into her and she felt her body open under the delicious pressure. He stared into her eyes and filled her completely in one long, slow thrust. They groaned in unison and smiled at the perfect harmony of it. She pulled his head down and tasted herself on his lips. He set a gentle, unhurried cadence, in stark contrast to the tumultuous joining of the night before.

  Slowly they rocked into each other, melding and retreating, every nuance of sensation keenly felt. And still he kept his gaze on hers. Their breathy sighs blended with the burble of the stream and the whisper of the breeze stirring the leaves.

  When she held him tighter and tossed her head restlessly, Noah raised her bottom and angled her hips, forcing himself deeper and more fully against her, each thrust now stroking the tiny ultrasensitive bud, the center of her pleasure. Her cries came sharp and fast, matching the increased tempo of his loving, until she shuddered with the explosive power of her climax.

  As her body quieted, she became aware of Noah’s hands gripping her hips, holding them still. He bit his lip on a soft half laugh and whispered, “Wait, darlin’... shh, don’t move.” She felt the throbbing fullness of him inside her and knew he was struggling to make it last. He kissed her, lightly at first, then deeper, a lingeri
ng, cherishing kiss. Keeping them joined, he rose to his knees, pulling her up with him, her legs around his hips. His strong hands lifted and lowered her, controlling the rhythm.

  She renewed the kiss, tugging hungrily on his mouth, breathing in his harsh exhalations and tangling her tongue with his. Leaning forward, she pressed him onto his back and stared down into his face, curtained by the spiraling tendrils of her hair. His eyes were dark and intense, passion clouded, the cords of his neck taut as a bowstring.

  With a slow smile she pulled his hands off her hips and pressed them back onto the quilt near his shoulders, as he’d done to her earlier. Though he could have shaken off her hold at any time, he only grinned playfully and teased, “Be gentle with me, Kathleen.”

  His playful smile turned smoldering as she moved over him, setting her own pace, a pace he obediently matched until the demands of his body overcame him. Abruptly he yanked his hands away to seize her once more and hurtle toward his own release, his hammering thrusts triggering her fever anew. When his body flexed hard, so did hers. And when his hoarse cry shattered the quiet of the forest, her own voice echoed it.

  *

  “ARE YOU FALLING ASLEEP?” Not that she wasn’t happy just to sit there staring at him—all of him. For that matter, she was still mother-naked herself. She let the constantly changing pattern of dappled light direct her gaze to every part of him in turn as he lay stretched out on the quilt.

  He snorted. “What foolishness. Never heard of a guy falling asleep after sex.” His eyes were closed, his head pillowed on his laced fingers.

  She trailed her fingernails slowly down his chest, through the crisp hair that gleamed like gold wool. When she got to his abdomen, it tightened in reflex and a chuckle escaped him. He seized her hand and opened his eyes at last. “Witch.”

  “What’s this?” She indicated the little round scar she’d noticed earlier.

  “Birthmark. There’s a bigger one on my back.” He flipped over and there it was, also on the right side, but larger.

  “Odd,” she said, touching the puckered mark on his otherwise perfect body. “You were born with these?”

  He hesitated before saying, “Kit, do you remember those old autopsy reports I showed you?”

  “Anita and Ray’s? Yeah.” She lightly rubbed his back. It was impossible to keep her hands off him.

  He rested his chin on his folded arms. “Do you remember the description of Ray’s bullet wound?”

  Her hand went still, her eyes glued to the scar. The report indicated a small entry wound on the right side of the abdomen, and a larger exit wound directly behind. He’d bled to death.

  Noah looked at her over his shoulder. He said nothing, and she sensed he was trying to read her reaction.

  She licked her lips. “I suppose the scars match up?”

  “You read the report. You tell me.”

  The scars matched up. Perfectly. She’d pored over every detail of those damn reports and asked Noah to clarify anything she didn’t understand. Apparently satisfied by her unspoken answer, he turned back around and dropped his chin again.

  She asked, “Is this usual? To have markings from a, uh, previous...” Jeez, listen to her. “You know...”

  “Incarnation.”

  “Yeah. Incarnation.” She allowed her fingers to touch the odd mark on his back. Exit wound?

  “Well, the literature includes plenty of cases where people are born with marks that correspond to scars acquired during a past life, but I wouldn’t say it’s usual. Other indicators of reincarnation are much more common.”

  “Like recurring dreams. Or knowing the layout of a house you’ve never seen before.” She didn’t try to hide the skepticism that infected her tone.

  He was silent a moment, as if debating whether to continue. “That’s right,” he said tightly.

  He could talk about “the literature” all he wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that Noah was, though she hated to acknowledge it, unbalanced in some way. Her armchair diagnosis was still multiple personality disorder, of which she knew precious little. It was way past time he had professional help for whatever was going on inside him. Perhaps then—dare she hope?—he could even be cured and they could be together.

  Forever.

  She chose her words carefully. “Have you ever consulted an, um, expert on this? Aside from your friend who helped you with the TM and all.”

  “Oh, I’m still in touch with Paul. He’s a well-respected psychotherapist now, in New York. Does a lot of work with hypnosis.”

  “Is he still into the paranormal?”

  “In a big way. He’s contributed some important research. In between helping people stop smoking, lose weight, and improve their backswing. He’s the only person, aside from you. who knows about me. And Ray.”

  So he did talk to a shrink. A like-minded crackpot who’d probably been encouraging Noah’s delusions all these years. Still, if this Paul Kerrigan was an honest-to-God psychotherapist, as Noah said, that had to count for something. She asked, “Has he done past-life hypnosis on you? You know, taken you back to Ray’s life?”

  His back tensed under her hand. “Paul’s been trying to get me to undergo hypnotic regression for ten years, but I won’t let him. The dreams are so goddamn realistic. I can feel myself—me—doing this terrible thing to Anita. The last thing I need is to relive it all in graphic detail. I’d rather stick to the newspaper reports.”

  Too bad. Perhaps if he allowed Paul to hypnotize him, he’d find out what his real problem was. And overcome it.

  He sat up and faced her. His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, she detected a hint of regret. “When you first arrived in Pratte and I couldn’t dissuade you from staying, I decided I had to stick close to you. To keep tabs on what you turned up. And to make sure you didn’t—” a muscle twitched in his jaw “—find out too much.”

  “About you, you mean.” He nodded, and she looked away, unable to bear his scrutiny as she thought back to the day she’d shown up in his office, and her pathetic gratitude when he’d offered to help her.

  He said, “It was an automatic reaction on my part, Kit. Call it an instinct for self-preservation. But at the same time, I realized I had to know the truth. It was looking at your face that did it. Seeing your pain. How much Jo meant to you. That’s when I decided to let Paul have a crack at hypnotizing me. Not to go back to Ray’s life, never that, but to relive the day Jo died. The part I can’t remember.”

  Grimly she met his eyes again and drew in a shaky breath. The part I can’t remember. “You want to find out if you killed Jo,” she said.

  His expression was bleak. “I have to know.”

  A weight settled in her chest. And if he found out he was guilty? What would he do? What would she do? “But Paul wasn’t able to help you?” she asked.

  “He hasn’t had a chance yet. Been on sabbatical in Alaska since the end of May. Doesn’t get back to New York till the end of August. I’ve left messages for him.”

  “Isn’t there anyone else you can—”

  “Trust me on this, Kit. Paul knows my history as well as I do. Knows about Ray and all of it. The guy saved my sanity back at Columbia after I killed Anders. It’s him or no one.”

  Fair enough. “Noah...” She laid her hand on his arm. “I think you should let him take you all the way back. To your—” go ahead, say it “—previous life. I think it’ll help you.”

  His sad, half-smiling eyes told her he appreciated her paying lip service to his claims of reincarnation. And that he was aware of her ulterior motive. “What you think is that I’ll discover I was wrong about Ray and that I really suffer from something much more plausible. And treatable.”

  Tears stung her eyes. She whispered, “Is it too much to ask you to give it a try?” For both their sakes.

  “Darlin’, believe me, if I thought there was the remotest chance you could be right, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But the fact is, you’re wrong. And deliberately dredging up eve
ry repulsive detail of that monster’s life can only make my life more miserable. And he’s already done a damn good job of that.”

  His words triggered a memory. “Ray said... he said there was something he had to tell you,” she reminded him, disturbed by how easily she’d slipped into calling Noah’s alter ego Ray. “At the cemetery. He said you were a stubborn, strong-willed bastard and you won’t let him show you something.”

  “I’m not interested in anything my good buddy Ray wants to show me.”

  “Maybe you should let him, Noah. Maybe this message, whatever he’s trying to tell you... well, maybe it’s something you’d want to know about.” And just maybe Noah’s reticence was his way of avoiding the truth: that his problems stemmed not from a long-dead murderer but from some sort of mental disorder.

  Tenderly he stroked her cheek. “Give it up, Kit. I’m not going to open myself up to him, put myself at his mercy. Because that’s what we’re talking about here. And once he sinks his teeth in, who knows what it’ll take to make him let go? How do I even know Paul can handle him? He’s dealt with a lot in his work, but something tells me Ray just may be a match for him.”

  Arguing was useless. “Did you sense him when we were...” She glanced at the quilt they sat on, indicating their lovemaking.

  His gaze slid away from hers. “Yeah, he wanted to come out and play. That’ll never change. But I think I’ve figured out how to keep a leash on him when we’re together. Like I said, I’m pretty sure I can keep you safe.”

  “As opposed to being one hundred percent positive.”

  He sighed heavily. “You can back off anytime, Kit. I won’t press you.”

  She knew her own eyes reflected the yearning she read in his. As he’d pointed out, there could be no forever for them, just a summer’s worth of bittersweet memories. If she’d allow it. She snuggled into his lap and felt his instant response, the hot, velvet-sheathed steel nudging her bottom. She heard his sharp indrawn breath.