He’d never imagined that just looking at someone could make him feel so many things. He wanted to take; he wanted to give. He wanted to stroke, to bite, to kiss, to lick ... to worship.
He lifted her up and turned her, laying her out on the bed so he could follow her down to the soft mattress. Her body yielded to his and the perfection in the feeling wrenched another groan from him. She was beautiful, inside and out. He kissed her deeply, trying to slow his racing his heart. Trying to experience each second, but everything came at him at once. The sensations, the passion, the desire to please her.
He had her in bed, where he’d wanted her from the start, and he needed her like he’d never needed anything before. She was gloriously naked and in his arms, where he felt she’d always belonged. But fear suddenly crept in. He’d never done this before and though he’d managed to toe the line between human and Reaper, he knew in a deep place that had been growing since the moment he’d opened his eyes, the time had come.
Reaper or human? He couldn’t be both.
One came without the heavy burden of emotion, of mortality, of humanity.
The other came with Maggie.
“Sam?” she murmured.
“Say my name again,” he whispered against her lips, into her mouth. And when she spoke his name, he took it inside and made it his own.
From this moment on, there was no turning back. He would fight the Beyond if they came for him. The old Sam had become a fading pulse inside him that wouldn’t survive on its own, but the new Sam combined them both and was strong, able. He would use that strength to protect the things Sam had loved. Only death would take him away.
Maggie need never know what he was or what he’d been, not when the lie would keep her safe. Not when the truth might turn her away from him.
His expression must have conveyed at least some of what he was thinking, though there was no way Maggie could truly understand what it meant. She stared at him with those big round eyes, and he kissed her again to dispel the concern that had suddenly appeared.
He trailed his hands over her body, imbued by commitment if not experience, and she flexed languidly, bowing to the force of his passion. He felt her beneath the skin, in his blood stream, to the bone. With long, lazy kisses, he worked his way down her body, learning her like an intricate language he longed to speak. She made a sound of anticipation when he reached her hip bone, the soft belly between them, the apex of her thighs.
“I’m not ... I don’t think ...”
Whatever she wasn’t, whatever she didn’t think, became a whisper as he sealed his mouth over her sex, losing himself in the intimacy of kissing her just there. Of the way her body went boneless and her fingers clenched the covers, her feet arching to tip-toe. He kissed and sucked and lost himself in her sounds and scent, ignoring his own body as he tuned into hers. High, breathless sounds came from her lips. She rose up on elbows, watching him as he learned her body.
“Oh,” she said when he sealed his lips over her again. “Oh.”
He felt the storm building within her, slipped two fingers inside to feel the tension and heat of it. She came with a soft shout that stiffened every muscle in both of their bodies. He rode the orgasm with her, feeling it crank his own excitement into something wondrous and painful.
He’d never known, never imagined that such an act—a mere physicality—could change him, but it had. Already, he felt different, more human than he’d thought possible. When the last wave went through her, he moved up.
In a moment, his pants were open, off, and he was braced between her spread legs. Kissing her again—he could do it forever—he pushed slowly, deeply inside her and realized that death had been a minor thing compared to this.
She gazed into his eyes as he buried himself in her body. That steady stare stripped him down while the heat of her, the soft curves of breasts and hips, reconstructed the man he would be. He thrust deep, setting a pace she matched with her hips. Her long legs wrapped around him, heels at the small of his back, arms around his neck as she opened herself to him.
He moved lower and caught one nipple between his teeth, nipping just hard enough to make her body bow. Bracing one hand over her shoulder, he raised up and slid his other hand between them, down to that point where he knew she was most sensitive, adding the seduction of fingers to the dominance of his thrusts.
He felt the tightness of her again, moved his fingers in slow insistent circles while his hips pistoned in and out. Nothing existed in the world but the need to hold her, possess her, make her cry his name. She clenched around him and came in a hot rush that reverberated through him like thunder. It took all his control to hold on as she rocked her pelvis into his, but that small, aggressive surrender destroyed him. Something had broken apart inside him, leaving him shattered as he climbed to a peak he could barely fathom. What pieces would be left when he reached the top? In a rush of heat and passion, he shot over the edge and into a climax that transformed man and Reaper, resurrecting him as a new creation, one that combined their two worlds and made them one.
After a long moment, Sam and Maggie collapsed, holding one another tight as the afternoon sun spilled through the window.
Sam—no longer the Reaper—kissed her once more, hoping to slake his thirst for her. Knowing it would take more than one time. He was deep inside her body, and even that wasn’t close enough.
CHAPTER 9
Maggie lay in Sam’s arms, boneless, happy and confused. After all the months of putting herself back together again, it had taken him just a little over a week to break her down. She didn’t know whether to run for the hills or hold on tight.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his mouth against her throat, his hands soft over her body.
“That I must be insane.”
He cupped her face and kissed her gently. “I promise you, the only thing I want to be is your husband. Please let me.”
A small laugh bubbled out. All the words he spoke were exactly the ones she needed to hear. Inside, pieces of her that had shriveled and waned, burst into life.
“Obviously, I’m not strong enough to resist you. I never was. It won’t be so easy with your daughter, though.”
“This was easy?” he teased. “I thought I was going to have to die again to get you here.”
He kissed her once more and she lost track of what she was going to say.
“I know it will take time with Lexi,” he murmured. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
“You sure about that, Sam? Because I hear something in your voice that’s full of doubt.”
He looked into her eyes. “I don’t know where I’ve been, Maggie. I guess I’m a little afraid of that.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Her gaze was on his mouth, watching it. Wanting him to kiss her again. He was becoming very good at reading her mind and his broad hand skimmed down her ribs as his tongue stroked her lips before she opened for him. Sam had always been a considerate lover, but Sam 2.0 took it to a whole new level, one that made every nerve in her body come alive. He even tasted different—fresh and new and full of promise. The texture of his tongue excited her, the heat of his mouth drove her insane.
And his scent ... that seductive cologne, yes, but deeper than that was a spice that appealed to her in a crazy, must-have-it way. She couldn’t stop burying her face in his shoulder, his throat, along the ridged muscles of his abdomen. He gave a sharp hiss as she moved down his body, nipping at the flesh in the sloped musculature of his hips.
She took him in her mouth all at once, as much as she could, and Sam made another sound that fired all of her senses and made her want to drive him over the edge into oblivion, as he’d done to her. It made her dizzy, this power she seemed to have. It made her fierce.
His muscles clenched, thighs tight against her shoulders, long legs bracketing her body. Her hands were jealous of her lips and they joined in the sensual play, stroking him while she sealed her mouth over the silky flesh and sucked.
She pulled her knees up under her so she could touch him everywhere. His breath came in deep, harsh draws. His hips came up off the bed, flexing at her erotic torture. Finally, he cursed softly and pulled her up to straddle him. She held him and lowered her body until he was seated as deep as he could go.
Neither one of them were breathing. Maggie wasn’t even sure she ever would again.
“Okay?” he asked, one hand flat on her belly, the other an anchor at her hip.
“Yeah,” she answered.
They moved like dancers, rocking to a rhythm they felt inside. She fit him like a glove—she always had. But the way he moved, his eyes on hers, watching for clues to what she liked, what she needed ... that was disconcertingly new. His thumb slipped over her mons and circled the tight ball of nerves that needed his attention.
He pumped hard and fast, slow and languid. She was so into him that each shift of muscle felt like music. Her knees stretched wider and he grasped her hips, helping her up as he thrust deep and long.
“Fuck,” he breathed, the crude word dark on his tongue. “I didn’t ...”
She’d never know what he didn’t, because thinking, speaking became impossible endeavors. All she knew was his body, his touch and the heat of him inside her. He sat up, rolling her beneath him as he made love to her like it was the first time. Like every time with her would be a first.
Arm braced over her head, free hand at work between their bodies, he drove her to a point beyond herself, to another version of who she could be. He lowered his face, his nose beside hers, mouth open. Hers, too. Their breath pooled between them, an aphrodisiac that she mainlined.
The tension built inside her, inside him. She felt his muscles harden, his thighs flex. His fingers moved faster and Maggie came with a soft cry as he rode her hard, while her muscles clenched and waves of hot release went through her. A moment later, he shouted her name and came with her, wreaking havoc on her senses, destroying the last vestiges of her will to ever resist him.
CHAPTER 10
It was hard to pretend that she hadn’t spent the day in bed with Sam ... her husband, but Maggie wasn’t ready for the kids to know about the shift in her relationship with Sam. She wasn’t sure what the shift even meant for them. Once Sam’s memory returned, everything might reset. Deep down, she expected it. Waited for it. Dreaded it.
Yet he seemed so certain that wouldn’t happen, and Maggie wanted it to be true so badly.
But that had been the problem all along, hadn’t it? She’d always tried to make Sam into what she wanted, which wasn’t the same thing as what he was.
The kids had already had their world turned upside down, though. It wouldn’t hurt to keep things quiet for a little while, at least until Sam was fully healed. There was a good chance his memory would never return—that’s what the doctors said. Maggie didn’t know which outcome she hoped for. If he got his memory back, he might remember why he’d left and do it again. If he didn’t, she’d be waiting, never able to trust what she had.
Sighing, she went back to cleaning up from dinner. Sam wiped down the table, making room for the kids to do their homework. From the outside in, they looked like the perfect American family. Something she wanted desperately.
After he finished, he leaned against the counter, watching her with those heartbreaker eyes, starting a slide show of their afternoon in her head. How she still could be turned on and wanting him when they’d spent so many hours in bed was beyond her.
The kids took their seats at the table and started their homework, talking occasionally. That was novelty enough—Lexi usually confined herself to her room except for the few minutes required to eat, clear her dishes, and leave again. That she’d voluntarily stayed after the meal was over and now actually spoke to her brother, was startling. Maybe Sam wouldn’t have such a long road in winning over his daughter. Maybe the fairy tale could come true.
She had a bottle of wine on the bottom shelf of the fridge. She took it out and stood with the bottle in her hand while her thoughts hijacked her motor functions. Silently, Sam took it from her.
“Would you like me to open this?”
She wasn’t used to anyone doing for her, but mutely she nodded.
Both kids looked up. Without a word, Lexi went to a drawer and pulled out the opener. Justin did an adorable mime of how Sam should proceed, just in case his memory failed him there, too.
In the dark months before Sam had moved out, moved on, he and his son hadn’t really resembled one another. That had changed, too. Maggie wasn’t certain if Justin had matured or if Sam had softened, but now the two looked so much alike that it made her heart hurt.
The doorbell rang just as Sam handed her a glass of cold Pinot Grigio. All four of them looked up, as if doorbells were portents of doom. Sam set the bottle down and went to answer it. She and the kids gathered in the arched doorway so they could see.
His big body and broad shoulders blocked their view at first, but when he stepped back they all saw the two men on the porch. Maggie recognized the detectives who’d questioned him in the hospital and dread filled her stomach. Grim, Sam invited them in, and they took seats in the living room. Like small moons, the children followed. A moment later, so did Maggie.
Justin perched on the arm of Sam’s chair and Sam’s hand went to the boy’s waist, keeping him balanced. She and Lexi exchanged a glance before they settled on the loveseat to Sam’s right.
The officers seemed uncomfortable with their audience. Both were older men, obviously veterans who’d seen it all. They shared a look around their eyes that labeled them law, but one was slight and sharp-featured, while the other had a bulldog appearance, right down to his paunch.
“Sorry to disturb you at dinner time,” the smaller of the two—Detective Hartman—said. “We have some new information that’s led to more questions.”
Sam nodded as the bigger man—she couldn’t remember his name—opened a leather notebook he’d brought in. Once again, they looked at the children and Maggie.
“Is there somewhere we can speak alone?” Bulldog asked Sam.
“Why?” Maggie wanted to know.
“We don’t want to upset the children,” Hartman answered.
Lexi snorted disrespectfully. When all eyes turned her way, she blushed. “Come on, Jus. Let’s finish our homework.”
Surprised by her compliance, Maggie watched them return to the kitchen table. They’d still be able to hear everything, but the distance seemed to satisfy the detectives. Sam caught her eye as she turned around. He looked worried. He’d worn that expression when the detectives had come to the hospital, too, but she wasn’t sure if it was rooted in his amnesia or just the opposite.
“When was the last time you saw your ex-wife, Sam?” Hartman asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered flatly.
Both detectives gave him an unwavering look. Waiting him out. That’s what they did on CSI, and it usually worked. But Sam only answered their silence with more.
“We have a witness that places you at her house two days before you were shot,” Bulldog said.
Sam swallowed hard and shook his head. His brows had pulled tight with frustration.
“Why are you asking about Janet?” Maggie said.
“Because no one’s seen her since. A neighbor called in when her dog wouldn’t shut up. Animal control found the dog chained up and the house ransacked. They notified us.”
The quiet following that declaration seemed to echo all around them. Maggie felt sick to her stomach. Worried, she glanced over her shoulder. Lexi and Justin had moved to the archway. They stared back with bleak expressions.
“Is the dog okay?” Justin asked.
Detective Bulldog nodded and his expression softened. “The dog’s fine. Your mom’s neighbor took it in.”
“She’s not my mom,” Justin said in a low, vehement voice.
The detective blink
ed, before turning suspicious eyes back on Sam. “Who shot you, Sam?” he asked abruptly.
Sam wore the distant expression he got when he was scanning his inner thoughts. Finally, he shook his head again. “I still don’t remember.” He covered his face with his open hands, frustration in every line of his body. “I can’t remember a damned thing before the hospital. I mean, I can remember growing up. My sister’s funeral. After that ... nothing except meeting Maggie.”
“That was after your divorce to Janet Sloan?” Bulldog asked, a sharp note of interrogation in the query.
“Yes.”
“You remember that?”
“No. Maggie told me.”
She had, earlier when he’d asked more questions about their past.
“Any idea why you might have been visiting your ex two weeks ago?”
“No, but every time I think of her, I get a knot in my gut. From what I hear, there’s a reason for that.”
“She’s crazy,” Lexi said.
Hartman nodded. “We know that she was institutionalized for a time. We’re trying to get access to those records.”
“She set our house on fire,” Justin declared.
“You don’t even remember,” Lexi said.
“I do, too.”
Lexi rolled her eyes. “He was just a baby.”
“Does your mother stay in touch?” Hartman asked. Apparently, they’d given up on isolating the children from the conversation.
“She’s not our mother,” Justin repeated, angry.
“Egg donor,” Lexi clarified. “And no.”
Both detectives looked at Maggie. “You’ve been married to Sam for about a year?”
Maggie nodded. Her mouth was dry.
“Did you ever meet his ex-wife?”
“Just once, right after Sam and I got married.”
“She never came to the house to see her children? Never visited?”
Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set Page 67
