by Mia Caldwell
She giggled at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” Merrick asked, his voice edging on vulnerable.
Bombshell stiffened, her confidence ripped away. Had she just hurt his feelings? Was he thinking she been giggling at him? You idiot. Never laugh after having sex, especially the first time. She shook herself. That wasn’t the first time, you idiot—you’re engaged, for crying out loud. Of course, you’ve already had sex. But, the more she thought about it, the more it upset her. She’d undoubtedly experienced that Merrick’s prize-winning cock before, and yet it felt like the first time. Why couldn’t she remember any of it? You have amnesia, she reminded herself.
“Why did you laugh?” Merrick said. There was no doubt about it. He sounded hurt. Damn it. What could she possibly say? What man wanted to hear that his cock was so forgettable?
“Oh, nothing,” Bombshell said, trying to sound nonchalant. She turned over, giving him her back. She didn’t want him to see the sadness in her eyes. Amnesia sucks. My whole life, I dream of falling in love, and when it finally happens, I can’t remember any of it. She chewed on her lip and sniffed back more threatening tears.
Behind her, Bombshell felt Merrick’s body scooch up behind her, until he was flat against her, spooning her. Despite her depressing thoughts, she couldn’t help but sigh with pleasure as his fingers began blazing a trail across the slope of her rib cage, down to the deep well of her waist. His member, while now soft, was still large and hot as it pressed against her buttocks. Her body reacted, oblivious to the sadness, and she moaned as his fingertips slid along down the slope of her body. Every cell in her body sizzled with heat from his touch and sent sparks of electricity through her. Tears stung at her eyes. Had it been like this the first time he’d touched her? How could she not remember? She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer, and she let out a sob.
“Sweetheart,” Merrick said, his voice full of concern. “What’s the matter? Don’t get sad on me, I won’t allow it.”
She felt him slide an arm under her, between her waist and the bed, and soon he was holding her, embracing her, hugging her as they lay on their sides together.
“Feel better now?” he asked. She was melting into him, allowing herself to let go of the sad thoughts, when suddenly he gripped her tight and rolled over, taking her with him so quickly her stomach flipped.
“What are you doing?” Bombshell said gleefully as soon as she stopped laughing.
“Just keeping you close, where you can’t get away.”
Chapter Twelve
As Merrick settled himself onto the bed, he put his hands on her hips and tried to adjust her so that she lay perfectly in the middle of his torso. A flicker of apprehension rippled through Bombshell’s mind. Was she worried about falling? Bombshell tried to enjoy the fun playtime with her fiancé, but when his hands came around and held her tight, trapping her, something broke inside her and panic rioted within.
With a shiver of vivid recollection, her surroundings changed. She was in a cold, pitch-dark room, lying in the exact same position, on a bed, on top of something, tied to it, forced to be on it.
Bile rose in her throat as the memory of the smell flooded her nostrils. Then icy fear twisted around her heart, and her claws came out and her body jerked to the rhythm of her screams. She had to get away.
Merrick’s heart leapt into his throat as his beautiful Bombshell suddenly went Tasmanian devil on top of him. Before he realized what was happening, she’d managed to claw and bite her way out of his grasp. At first he laughed and held on, thinking she was just playing, but as she drew blood and the screams erupting from her throat assured him that this wasn’t a game, he pulled himself out from under her and stared in shock at the look of utter hatred in her eyes.
His heart pounded. “What’s wrong? Bombshell?”
She cowered away from him.
“Bombshell, what is it? Calm down, please.” Merrick tried to approach her, slowly, like he was trying to save an animal caught in a trap. He reached for her, but she screamed and slashed at his hands. He put his hands up in surrender and tried to calm her. “I won’t touch you. I promise. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
The words tightened in his throat as realization dawned.
She was in pain. He’d hurt her.
A nauseating sense of despair filled his being. Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.
She was in the corner now, where the bed had been pushed by the wall. She grabbed the blanket and held it up to her neck, hiding her face and her body away from him as she cowered against the wall.
Merrick couldn’t look at her. He wanted to throw up. He’d never hurt anyone in his life, and now this. He cared about that woman so much, and now he’d broken her. He was disgusting. He should be shot, then hanged, and then tarred and feathered.
She moaned and rocked and shivered beneath the covers.
“Oh God, oh God,” Merrick said out loud as he paced the room and pulled at his hair. “Jesus!” What should I do? Should I take her to the hospital? What would I say when I got there? Excuse me, doctors, but this pretty young woman has been damaged by my freakily too-large dick? Here’s a bunch of money—can you fix her?
The sound of a horn honking outside startled him, then gave him a jolt of hope. Thank God. It had to be Joann and Charlie. He ran through the open French door and onto the balcony before realizing that he was stark naked. He spun around, hoping they hadn’t noticed him in his birthday suit, and bounced and tripped, cursing as he tried to dress in his jeans and t-shirt. Finally decent, he rushed back to the balcony and leaned clear over the edge. Joann was pulling things out of her car just below him, and Charlie was standing next to the rental car he’d been sent to Linton to pick up. Behind him, Bombshell let out another anguished cry, and Merrick remembered what he needed to do.
“Joann,” Merrick shouted to get her attention. “Get up here, there’s something’s wrong with Bombshell.”
Her head snapped up in surprise, and she blocked the sun with her hand. “Merrick, what’s happened?”
“I don’t know. She’s not telling me,” Merrick said. Merrick chided himself for being a coward. He had done this to her. He should be prepared to face the music and not take the coward’s way out and pretend he’d had nothing to do with it.
A few moments later, Merrick heard Joann’s feet pounding up the stairwell. He braced himself for what would surely be her wrath. He’d deal with it. All that mattered was taking care of Bombshell. He looked at her on the bed. She’d thrown off the covers and lay curled up in a ball, her hands wrapped around her knees. He ran to throw the cover back on her, when Joann burst into the room. “What happened, what’s wrong, where is she?” Merrick watched her eyes grow wide at the sight of the room and the naked girl curled into a ball on top of the disheveled bed. Then she looked at Merrick, no doubt taking in his sweaty body and rumpled clothing. Confusion changed to hostility when she sniffed the air, and her face turned hard.
Merrick gulped and wished he had a tail to put between his legs.
“What have you done to her?” she screamed, then shoved him so hard in the gut as she rushed to Bombshell’s side that he staggered back and had to grab a chair for support as he tried to recapture some of the wind she’d just knocked out of him. What had he done to her, indeed?
“I think I broke her,” he said. Then he crumpled into the chair and hid his face in his hands.
“Get out!” Joann yelled.
Merrick got a hold of himself and drew himself up. Part of him screamed, she’s your employee. Don’t let her speak to you like that. But as he saw Joann attempting to comfort Bombshell, he couldn’t blame Joann for hating him. He hated himself as well.
He walked out of the room, and went downstairs in a complete guilt ridden daze, ignoring Charlie’s questions about what the hell was going on upstairs. He held his hands out for the keys of the rental car. Without a word he started the engine and drove off the property, driving around until h
e found a quiet, tree-shaded place. He parked the car and buried his face in his hands. God, please let her be okay. He hadn’t been to church in ages, but he bargained with God, swearing he’d change his ways and return to church regularly and confess all his sins, if God would just please make her alright. He’d never meant to hurt her.
Eventually, he received the message from some kind of higher power that he should stop behaving like a prick and go back and see if there was anything he could do to help. Hiding and running away from the girl was the coward’s way out, and God hadn’t created him to be a coward. At least, that’s what he thought God was trying to tell him.
He drove back, and when he pulled back up at the house, he noticed right away that Joann’s car was gone. He swallowed a few times, wondering if she’d already taken Bombshell to the nearest medical treatment facility, and felt like a heel for running off.
Through the kitchen window, he spotted movement and recognized Joann doing something at the sink. Relieved that Joann and most likely Bombshell were still in the house, he pulled his shoulders back and started towards the door, ready to face the music. Joann was at the stove with her back to him, turning on the gas flame under an aluminum kettle when he entered the kitchen. As soon as she noticed him, her face hardened. “You want to tell me what the fuck you did to that girl?”
Merrick was taken aback. Had she gotten worse?
“Is she alright?”
“I don’t think so. She’s in some kind of state of shock, pure fear if you ask me. Did you rape her? Cause that’s what it looks like to me. You asshole!”
“Oh God, no. I didn’t rape her. I’d never do that.”
“Then why is she so traumatized? Answer me that,” Joann said, her hands on her hips as she glared at Merrick.
“I don’t know. Everything was going great, and she was enjoying herself, and then all of a sudden she started flipping out and got all terrified. But I didn’t do anything to her.”
“Other than fuck her brains out after a head injury—are you a fucking moron?”
Merrick staggered and grabbed a chair at the small kitchen table for support. His breathing became ragged, and his heart beat so hard against his chest it hurt. Jesus Christ. You are an idiot, he chided himself. He’d completely forgotten about the head injury. You are a total fucking moron.
Merrick shook his head, back and forth, unable to believe what he’d done. “It was just a little sex,” Merrick said, more to himself than to Joann. He wanted the twisting guilt in his stomach to go away, but if anything it was getting worse. He’d never been so ashamed of himself in his entire life.
Remembering that he might still be able to help, he got a grip. He lowered his voice and tried to sound authoritarian. “Look, Joann. Please believe me. I never meant to hurt her. Please tell me how you think she’s doing and tell me what can I do to help?” He wrinkled his forehead, as he remembered Joann’s missing car. “Where’s Charlie?”
“He’s gone off to see if he can find Doc Mitchell. He didn’t answer his phone, so Charlie was hoping to find him in his vegetable garden.”
“So, she needs a doctor?”
“Uh, yeah, the girl’s definitely going through something. Are you sure you didn’t do anything to traumatize her?”
“Well…” Merrick said and he dropped his head.
“Well, what?” Joann snapped. “I can’t help her if I don’t understand what’s caused this behavior. How did you traumatize her?”
“I’m kind of extra-large,” Merrick said, the words barely audible.
“I’m sorry, come again?”
“My dick is too big for most women, so, yeah, that might have been what traumatized her,” Merrick blurted.
Joann laughed a little too loud and long for Merrick’s taste. His shoulders stiffened. He wasn’t making it up. It wasn’t easy being a walking tripod.
“I seriously doubt that your cock, regardless of its size, was the cause of her trauma”—she eyed him suspiciously—“provided you’re telling me the truth and you didn’t force yourself on her.”
“I didn’t. I swear to God. She wanted it. Trust me, it was her idea, or I wouldn’t have even gone there, if she hadn’t, well, seduced me…” Merrick felt his face go hot. Why the fuck was he telling this woman something so personal?
“Well, regardless of your dick size, all I can think is you shook something up in her memory when you jostled her around. I’m still pissed as hell at you—because having sex with her was a moron move. Didn’t you remember the doctor saying not to let her move too much?”
“I do now,” Merrick admitted, “but I wasn’t thinking about it at the time.”
“Yeah, that’s because you’re like most men—thinking with your dick instead of your brain.”
Merrick was worried about Bombshell. She’d been alone in the room for too long. He got up. “I’m going to check on her.”
“She’s fine. She was asleep when I came down to start the tea. Peek, if you want, but don’t you dare wake her up.”
“I won’t,” Merrick promised. He got up and mounted the stairs, taking the steps as slowly and softly as he could.
When he got to the door, he hesitated. What if she’d died? What if he’d killed her? He’d never forgive himself. She was the only woman that made him feel the way he did. He gritted his teeth and placed his hand on the doorknob, dreading…
A small snoring sound filtered through the door, and he let out a breath. Holy Mother of God. She was alright.
He opened the door and stepped carefully inside, moving far enough inside the room to see her. She was beautiful, her face calm, but still slightly troubled-looking, even in sleep. Joann had managed to put some kind of t-shirt over her body and had covered her with a clean sheet. A great tightness squeezed as his heart, and for the second time in forever, tears stung at the corner of his eyes. He wiped them away. He couldn’t bear the idea of that girl suffering any kind of pain.
“I’ll make it up to you, Bombshell, I promise,” he whispered, then he stepped back into the hall and quietly closed the door behind him.
Chapter Thirteen
The doctor came and checked on Bombshell. She’d been drowsy when he’d removed and changed her bandage, but otherwise had seemed to be unaware that she’d had any kind of fit at all. After confirming multiple times that she was feeling okay, he’d given her some kind of sedative and lured her back to bed.
“You need plenty of rest. I want you to take it easy.”
Before leaving, the doctor reminded Merrick and Joann to make sure and get her the MRI. “I don’t think her behavior earlier is tied to her head injury or what you two were up to,” he said.
Merrick cursed under his breath, realizing that Joann had shared all of her information with the retired country doctor.
“What do you think caused it, then?” Joann asked.
“You said last night that Sheriff Buck attacked her, shot at her, correct?”
“Yes, that’s why we didn’t want to take her to the hospital. We didn’t want him to find out where she was hiding,” Merrick reminded him.
“Yep,” he said thoughtfully pulling on his beard. “If he’s willing to take a potshot at her in a parking lot, God knows what kind of abuse he’s put her through.”
Merrick started. He’d been so caught up with the stunning and talented beauty under his roof that he’d allowed himself to forget about the real enemy. It had never even occurred to him that her episode had been caused by post-traumatic stress disorder and that it might have nothing to do with his supersized cock.
He marveled again at how a man clearly off the deep end could hold elected office and drive around with a gun. How had he been elected sheriff? It didn’t make sense. What kind of man could attack a woman in front of a bar full of people? If he was that twisted, what other kinds of hell had he put her through?
His hands balled into fists so tight his fingernails dug into his palm. If he ever found out that the bastard had done something eve
n worse than firing a gun at his girl, he’d bring that man down. Merrick’s lips pressed together, and when he answered, his voice was cold.
“Exactly why I’m getting her away from all of this. First thing tomorrow, I’m flying her to New Jersey. He can’t hurt her if he can’t find her.”
“Well, that’s mighty kind of you,” the doctor said. “But you need to be prepared.”
“What for, Doc?” Joann asked, curious.
“If she’s already starting to remember things, you best believe it will happen again. After the MRI, I suggest you look into treating her for PTSD as well as the amnesia.”
“PTSD?” Charlie asked, pausing his blade on the piece of wood he’d been whittling over a paper towel on the kitchen counter.
“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” Merrick said at the same time as Joann and the doctor.
“Oh,” Charlie said. He went back to whittling.
Merrick wondered if whittling was his way of coping with his hot-tempered, opinionated wife. He suddenly had a vision of himself as an older man, whittling away on a piece of balsa wood as Bombshell held forth on something that was making her livid in that very same kitchen.
Merrick shook his head. Where the hell had that come from? It’s not like you’re really going to marry that woman. Get it together.
Chapter Fourteen
Harold hung up his phone after getting the call from Florence. He had been thinking about calling her, maybe getting an update from the secret society her husband ran. The vibe in town had been unusually hostile since whatever had happened the night before; maybe she’d have some insights. Plus, he knew Florence was chomping at the bit for his cock – he’d welcome the cunt’s stretched-out pussy. Florence wasn’t pretty – in fact, she was ugly – but she knew how to fuck, and she liked it rough.
