Deja Vu (Titan World Book 0)

by Cristin Harber

  Allie’s insides swirled, and her mind spun. When he sucked her nipple into his mouth, the wet heat spiked her higher than the clouds. James had her soaring. He had her carefully pinned beneath him, and she was more aroused, more turned on than she knew she could be. This close to him, she could see the tiniest flecks of gray in his light-brown hair, and she feathered kisses along the top of his head, pressing her lips to his thick hair and anything else she could find contact with—until his fingers went between her legs. At that moment, the dizzying sensation struck her stupid. Allie could do nothing but toss her head back and close her eyes.

  “Good, angel?” James asked, dancing his fingers over her wet folds. He teased her clit and brushed his knuckles over her sensitive skin, encouraging her to open for him.

  “Yes. Very good.”

  For as harsh and hot as her thoughts about him had been, he was going slowly and making this so right.

  James slipped off the couch, dropping to the side and snagging off her underwear, and repositioned her with a swift move. For all his preparation to ease his way there, he didn’t hold back now.

  “God, James,” Allie cried as he rolled his eager tongue over her clitoris before sucking it between his lips.

  “Mmm.”

  He held her eyes, the vibrations from his voice running up her spine and down her arms.

  She gripped the blanket and gasped as he eased down, dropping to kiss her entrance. The start of his five o’clock shadow had gone unnoticed until now, and the light scratch was cataclysmic. “Oh…”

  He licked, stroking her deeper, until his tongue had worked its way inside her, and she couldn’t breathe.

  “Please,” she gasped. Her emotions and hormones were overwhelming her, and she was drunk on the need to come. “James. This is so unreal. God. But please…” She pulled her hips back. “Wait.”

  Confused, he paused. “What?”

  Panting, she couldn’t stand a separation between them, couldn’t handle this moment lacking specialness despite their rush. “The first time I come with you, please, please be inside me.”

  He blinked as though not understanding.

  “James, I am dying. Please.”

  “Killing me, Allie.” He moved her back and stood, unfastening his pants and stepping out of them. She watched him remove the condom from his wallet and roll it on. James was meticulous in all things; how purposefully he made love shouldn’t shock her. Yet as he descended upon her, she was overcome by just how all-consuming he was.

  With his mouth against her neck, his hand guided his thick shaft back to where his mouth had been. Allie moaned as he pressed into her body. He nuzzled her cheek and kissed her lips, keeping his eyes open as hers were. Their eyes locked. James thrust, and her jaw clenched. This was what she needed, slow and steady, drowning her in pleasure.

  “There you go,” he crooned.

  She flexed her hips to meet him, and their kisses tangled. Her climax built quickly, and why it was important that he feel it too, she would never know. But hell… “I’m going to—”

  James gave her what she needed, stroking deep, holding her close.

  She came, and as he clung to her, he came too. She couldn’t stop kissing him. Their breaths seesawed back and forth. Panting gasps from the highest mountain began to slow as they held each other and floated down. Maybe this was why she’d needed to come with him. Who knew, but it was perfect.

  “Stay with me tonight?” she whispered against his cheek.

  James didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. She knew. Wordlessly, they went down a hall and got into her bed. Before she could process that maybe everything happened for a reason and that her old life wasn’t worth searching for, James had her tucked to his side in a bed she didn’t know. He pulled her close to his chest and tucked the comforter around her exhausted, sated body. “Go to sleep, angel.”

  The man was more familiar than her covers, and she breathed deeply before giving in to sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Allie rolled over and caught James’s scent on her pillow. That was not how she had expected last night to go, and with her shower running in the background and her sheets sleep rumpled, she could still feel how they’d spent the night on the couch before going to bed.

  “It was perfect,” she whispered. Then her eyes drifted shut as she fell into the easy slumber of a morning afterglow.

  The tickle of a familiar memory pulled at her subconscious. Allie squeezed her eyes tighter. Surely, this was something she had done in the past—had sex, hello. But the strike of the feeling, the emotion, struck her in a way that made her want to physically reach for the memory and tuck it under the covers with her.

  Water splashed in the adjacent bathroom, and Allie recalled a memory with such force that it knocked the breath out of her. People kissing. So close that she had to run and hide. A balcony? A window? It was cold. So cold and wet. But not last night, and not in her house.

  She struggled to look around, but the memory wouldn’t allow it. She wanted to open her eyes but didn’t dare. She was awake, yet this was a dream. Then it was gone!

  Allie sat up in bed, panting, desperate to find that thought again, but she couldn’t see it and couldn’t place it. The feeling was still with her, though. The water turned off, and she turned and stared at the bathroom. Who had she seen kissing? Why had she run away? Did she have a real ex-fiancé?

  Allie jumped out of bed and ran to her dresser, dressing as quickly as she could. She didn’t know what she was doing; she just needed to find out the answers, and she wasn’t going to do that naked. After a quick pull of underwear, she snapped on a bra and yanked on a hoodie. Allie grabbed socks and pulled on sweatpants. The bathroom door opened, and she spun. James had shower-wet hair and a towel around his waist. He looked wet and warm and like somebody she needed to trust right now.

  “I remembered something. But I didn’t. I felt it. But it was something.” Her hands tore into her messy hair. “God! What is wrong with me?”

  “Nothing, Allie.” He rushed over, attempting to hold her, but she couldn’t handle being restrained.

  “It was more than just a memory. Why can’t I remember anything, and why do I feel like I should remember everything?”

  “That’s part of the frustration—”

  “No!” She warily looked down at her body, the one James had kissed and loved on last night, the one she had spent time studying alone in quiet. What she was about to say would mark her as crazy all over again. “I wasn’t in a car accident. I don’t believe it. I was hit hard enough to lose my memory, and my body aches, but in all the wrong places. My hands hurt so badly when I came to. And have you seen my fingernails? The tips of my fingers? They are ragged.”

  He shifted awkwardly. “Then get a manicure.”

  “James!” Tension closed her throat as if the noose that had been constricting around it had finally yanked tight.

  “Look—if you saw how you ran off the road…” He trailed off unconvincingly.

  “Do you know? That it wasn’t a car accident?”

  James shook his head. “No, Allie.” But he stopped himself before defending the absurd accident anymore.

  She didn’t have bruises from a seat belt. “Just now, I remembered watching someone. I was spying on someone! Maybe I hid. What if they found me?”

  He stepped forward, worry etched across his forehead. “Take a breath. You’ll be okay.”

  “Or—no. None of this makes sense.” She held her hand up as a shield to keep him away.

  Unease danced in his eyes, and his chiseled jaw stiffened. “Allie—”

  “Tell me!”

  He stayed silent.

  “Please, James,” she whispered. “Tell me. Anything. You know more than you’re saying. Right? Did someone hit me? Why do I feel like everything about my life is a charade? Who are you protecting?” Tears fell down her face. “Oh my God. I do sound insane.”

  His jaw flexed, and his dull eyes went angry. “I shoul
d go. Is that what you want?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” Allie took a step back and put her shaking hands on the dresser as she watched James dress methodically.

  He turned toward her, and his eyes failed to speak the truth. “Last night was amazing, angel. One of those things we’ll always have to remember.” He walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “Take care of yourself. Please.”

  Then he left her clinging to the dresser, and her tears cascaded. Missing him already was impossible. Hurting over simple sex seemed trivial. But she couldn’t stop the waterworks.

  Allie dropped to her knees, wrapping herself into a ball, and let her only memory push her into a fit of desperately sad tears. Over a man she didn’t know but swore she could feel in her bones. And now he was gone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hours had passed. Allie’s headache had come and gone, much like James. He had been gone long enough for her tears to stop. But still she was lying there.

  She pushed up and leaned against the dresser. His reaction had all but confirmed that she was right, and he was in on whatever was happening. An investigation was needed. But for who or what… she had no idea. Still, it had to start now, or she would stay on this floor forever and maybe give up hope that her past would ever come back.

  “Who am I?” She had no plan, had no idea… Allie stood and walked to her utility closet. Her actions were second nature, and once she started moving, she let her feet do the thinking because she still had no clue what to do.

  Her hands reached for a toolbox, and she stared at the generic plastic box. “What am I doing?”

  But it was as though her subconscious had a course of action all its own. She extracted a screwdriver, a flathead, and an adjustable Allen wrench then walked to the front of her house. “What can I learn from this house?” And why did she feel as if the house should tell her anything, anyway?

  Allie pressed her back up against the front door, where she’d met James hours before—and ignored the pang that tore at her heart. Then she stared at what was supposed to be her humble abode.

  Her eyes swept back and forth, searching for who knew what, but her instincts screamed. Her chin dropped to her chest, and she was lost. “I’m losing my mind.”

  She let her gaze crawl up the wall and back down. Her sight froze on an air vent. Bingo. Maybe she was nuts, but it didn’t matter. That was her answer. She dropped to her knees and crawled toward it. Her fingers brushed over the hardware. As quickly as she could, Allie unscrewed the vent cover and peered inside. There was nothing there. She ran her finger along the cover—only dust. She repeated the same process for every vent, outlet, and light switch cover then ran toward the kitchen, tearing it apart. The fridge was clean, the cabinets held no secret messages, and her dishwasher revealed nothing.

  It took hours, and she had a fake Internet job to get to, but that didn’t matter, and her instincts were real.

  Four and a half hours later, every vent cover, outlet, and switch cover had been removed and inspected, but Allie had nothing. Her house was in a state of disarray. Her mind was a notch closer to hysteria. Yet she was more determined than ever to figure out what was going on.

  She went back to her bedroom and grabbed her phone. There were messages from her so-called marketing friends, these people she supposedly had been working with. Whatever. She was just a face in a profile, somebody that had been plugged in, a warm body that had been pimped into a username. There were a few messages from Beth. She scrolled through, skimming what Beth had said. Mostly, it looked as though she wanted to get together for dinner or cocktails. Beth seemed so concerned about her transition from remembering nothing to remembering her old life.

  And there was one text message from James.

  JAMES: Maybe one day this will make sense for both of us.

  Screw it. Allie grabbed her phone and shoved it into a drawer. She couldn’t deal with her shredded heart and mopped away a stray tear. “I can’t handle a past life and him.”

  Maybe one day, everything would make sense. But until then, she was going to binge on cereal and daytime TV. She poured herself a bowl of Lucky Charms and plopped onto the couch. With the remote in hand, she numbly surfed the channels and hoped some leprechaun luck would rub off.

  “The woman holds the baby,” the man on public-access TV said.

  But that wasn’t English. Allie’s channel-flipping thumb froze, and with her mouth full of cereal, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man on the screen.

  While the words that came out of his mouth should have been gibberish, she understood what he said. The line at the bottom of the screen simply read Yoruba—101 Public Access College Class.

  The spoon fell out of Allie’s mouth. It clattered on the hardwood floor as she choked on a marshmallow. “What the hell?”

  The teacher spoke clearly in basic sentences that would have been in an elementary school reading primer but in a language that she should not have understood. It was a language that most people never came in contact with. Most colleges wouldn’t even offer the language on campus, which was why it was likely being offered in this format. It was rare, yet she understood every word coming out of his mouth.

  She understood so well, she could tell he was conjugating verbs.

  The woman was holding the baby.

  The woman will hold the baby.

  The woman held the baby.

  Trembling, Allie looked around the room at the vent covers she had removed and the outlets that were still exposed. Then her gaze shot back to the TV, where she understood this foreign tongue. Last night, when James had rung the doorbell, her hands had immediately gone to her waist as though she was searching for—a weapon?

  Who was she?

  What was she?

  She was something, that much she knew. James knew it too.

  Everything about this house was fabricated. “I have to get out of here.”

  Allie dropped the bowl and ran to her bedroom, going straight for the drawer and pulling out her phone. There was a new text message from James.

  JAMES: This ended all wrong. Can I come back and see you?

  Hell no. She dropped the phone as though he could see what had happened in the house since he had been gone. He couldn’t be trusted. He was one of them, whoever them was. And now, finally, she was on the right track.

  Allie left the phone on the floor and grabbed her running shoes, lacing them up then putting them to use. She sprinted toward her back door, stopping briefly at her purse to grab a handful of cash and her debit card. There was a convenience store a half block away. She would run there, withdraw everything she could, ditch the card, and find somewhere to exchange the cash, because if someone tracked down the bills she received from her initial withdrawal by their serial numbers, they could find where she spent them and triangulate her location.

  How on earth did she know to change out the dollar bills?

  Yes, she needed to know who she was.

  The back door had barely slammed shut as she hit the steps and ran as fast as her legs would carry her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sweat poured down James’s Under Armour shirt. His arms pumped, and his lungs pounded to keep up with the grueling pace he forced himself to take. Powering harder up the trail didn’t clear his mind, so he pushed but couldn’t climb the Blue Ridge Mountains fast enough to escape the memory of Allie in his arms. He could never see her again. Hell… there was no forgetting her.

  He growled as he reached the zenith of the mountain trail and bent over, spent. He gasped and hoped for some semblance of clarity. But there was none. He’d wanted to outrun his thoughts—but failed. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d last floundered.

  Sweat burned his eyes. He tasted it on his tongue. James stretched and gave up on clearing his head, pivoting to jog down the hill. The path wound down, as did his breath, but not his mind. The final turn lay ahead, and his goal to forget the girl had been in vain. Muscles loose and mind numb, James rounde
d the corner and came face to face with Beth. Damn it.

  She looked as pissed as he felt about seeing her. “Hello to you too.”

  “Where is she?” Beth snapped.

  Everything in his peripheral lurched as he tried to focus on Beth. He’d caught his breath, but his blood pressure jumped. “Allie?”

  “Who else do you think I would drive two hours to ask about in person?”

  “What do you mean?” If she was missing… His stomach churned, and his lactic-acid-bleary muscles were robbed of oxygen all over again.

  “She cleaned out her ATM, and by the time I got to her house, she was gone. Every duct cover and light switch had been removed and left methodically lined up throughout her house.”

  “Shit.” James rubbed his hands over his face and into his hair, shaking his head. “I’m not one to tell you guys how to do your business, but you’re doing this wrong.”

  “How much does she remember?”

  “Beth…” James trailed off. “When I see somebody who could easily recover memories having to force them down?” He glared. “I know it’s not my business why the Agency is doing it this way, but you cannot force somebody to forget what is resurfacing.”

  “It’s not my call.” Beth crossed her arms, and her eyes narrowed. “It’s a matter of national security—”

  “This again? National security? If that’s your goddamn issue, then you have a problem. Because she has memories resurfacing. They’re coming in fast. They’re coming in spurts. And now she’s missing.” He threw up air quotes, not sure if he believed anyone at this point but Allie. Regret was going to eat him alive if she was hurt and he could have prevented it.

  “If they wanted her dead, they would’ve killed her.”

  If he thought his blood pressure had climbed before dealing with the CIA, now the reading would have been skyscraper-high. “You’re the middleman here; I get that. But you need to talk to them—”