Love Me Two Times (Rock Royalty Book 8)

by Christie Ridgway

  Still, that trace of a memory was still there, tantalizing him. Damn it.

  He opened his eyes to take in her hopeful expression, making him wonder if she wanted him to remember almost as much as he did.

  “Well?” she asked.

  Though he was loath to disappoint her, he shook his head. Then his gaze dropped to the bowl she still held. “Did I eat any cherries that night?”

  “No. I did. I was fishing them out of my drink with a straw, and that’s when you asked me if my name was Shirley since I was drinking a Shirley Temple. Which it wasn’t, by the way. Just Diet Coke and the cherries.”

  Shirley Temple. Well, that wasn’t much of a line, he thought with a grimace. Had he been too bowled over by her to come up with a better one?

  “Okay.” He forced his mind back to the matter at hand. “Did we…did we kiss that night?”

  She shifted in her seat. “We’d only just met—”

  “Did we kiss?” he repeated, his voice more commanding as he took her bare thigh in a firm grip.

  “Beck—”

  “Did I get my tongue in your mouth?”

  Now it was a full-on squirm she executed against the sofa cushion. Then she sighed. “If you must know, yes.”

  “That makes sense with the only wisp of memory I seem to have breezing around in my head.” He stroked his palm down her thigh to her knee. “It isn’t the flavor of cherry in my mouth that I remember, it’s me tasting the flavor of cherry in yours.”

  “Oh.” Her new flush nearly matched the color of the candied fruit. She looked down at the bowl and then back at him.

  He slid his hand off her skin. “It’s okay. I don’t think it’s going to work anyway.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I told you I want to help.”

  Her fingers scooped up a pair of cherries, and she hesitated again. Then she shook herself, muttered “It’s just a kiss,” and tossed the fruit into her mouth, chewing with quick deliberation. Then she swallowed, hard.

  “Don’t choke,” he warned her as she took another swallow.

  And another. Then she squared her shoulders and looked at him expectantly. “Should I purse my lips?”

  She was going to kill him. But Christ, he wanted to remember so badly that he’d willingly go to his grave in pursuit of knowing every moment that they’d had together. Every whisper, every touch, every moan.

  “I’m going to have to put my tongue in your mouth, sweetheart,” he said, eyeing her for signs of reluctance.

  Waving that concern away, she made a scoffing sound. “I can handle it.”

  “Okay,” he murmured, taking the bowl from her to set it aside. He gave himself one more second to contemplate the fact that if the next few moments didn’t fill that blank hole in his head, it surely would give him a new memory—one he might wish someday he could forget.

  But she was so damn beautiful that concern didn’t have a chance to take root. He wanted his lips on hers.

  Holding out his hand, he gentled his voice, yet left it with an edge of steel. She’d already made her choice. “Come here,” he said.

  Chapter 7

  It couldn’t be wrong of her to want the father of her child to recall its conception, Jewel thought. And if it took a kiss to prompt his memory to return, so what?

  Kisses weren’t promises, as she very well knew.

  Kisses were…just kisses.

  Something you traded on New Year’s Eve.

  The outcome of your spin-the-bottle turn, and sometimes you had to kiss the guy with the eel-like tongue or the one whose heavy body spray made your eyes water.

  She’d once kissed a stranger on a girlfriend’s dare.

  Another time she’d kissed her girlfriend at the gate of a beer party, so they could enter at the couple’s price rather than the single’s. The young dudes collecting the money—and who had insisted on the lips-to-lips in order to let them claim the discount—had been fascinated. She and her friend had thought their jaws-dropped reaction was hilarious.

  None of those kisses had changed her life.

  Though she had to admit that Beck’s previous kisses had actually altered hers. She was a mother, now, right? And the man who’d fathered her child was going to kiss her, and that was okay because the kissing had a purpose, and she was certainly not going to lose control of herself over such a simple thing.

  Mothers were made of sterner stuff.

  Speaking of stern...

  “Come here,” he said again, in that voice that sounded like velvet wrapping steel.

  Putting her hand against Beck’s palm, she fought a quiver as he folded his fingers over it, his grip warm and steady. Despite her best efforts, the shivery sensation ran through her body, and a drop of coppery panic joined the taste of cherry in her mouth.

  “Don’t be scared,” he said, as if he could read her responses which, actually, she knew he could.

  It only sent another shiver through her, and it put on high alert every nerve ending in her body. She felt like a cat who’d been petted in the wrong direction.

  He slid his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer so that the skin bared by her shorts was pressed against the soft denim of his jeans. A fire flashed from ankle to that soft place between her legs, making her burn there. Making her wetter.

  She tried to control her breathing as he made some low, soothing sound and pressed his lips to her temple. Then they feathered to her cheekbone and trailed down to tickle her jaw.

  His scent didn’t make her eyes water. It was clean, with the barest hint of an exotic spice and a touch of lime. The Essence de Beck that spoke of his wanderlust and unbending masculinity. She took it into her lungs and tried breathing it out again, but it seemed inclined to stay inside her. Like he’d be part of her for the rest of her life.

  Her heart jolted at the thought, and she told herself to calm down. He was part of her for the rest of her life, because of Soul. A connection because of their child—no more and no less than that.

  His mouth brushed the corner of hers before moving away again. She forced herself not to fidget in her seat, but the anticipation was making her jittery. Feverish.

  I’m going to have to put my tongue in your mouth.

  Why didn’t he just get on with it, instead of torturing her like this? He was at her ear again, and chills rushed down her neck. Now she might have writhed against the sofa cushion, but then his hand attached to the arm curled around her waist found its way under her T-shirt. Rough skin traced a line along her side.

  Her nipples went so hard they hurt.

  “Why won’t you just kiss me?” she said, and promised herself that it didn’t sound too plaintive.

  “I’m warming you up,” he replied, and that hand at her side slid around to her belly, at the same time turning her slightly and hitching her closer to him.

  It stayed there, the palm heavy and large, his fingers splayed wide, with his pinkie resting just above the mound of her sex.

  Which throbbed, her clit the aching, needy epicenter.

  Only one man had ever made her feel this way.

  The thought irritated her—he irritated her, she decided.

  “Can’t you get it over with?” she demanded.

  He shifted on one hip, half-turning so his knees angled toward her. His gaze met hers and he smiled, lazy, like some lion on a sun-heated savannah waiting for the lioness to bring back the meat.

  Which Jewel had, with her obvious annoyance. With her obvious impatience.

  His hand went to her chin and tilted her face, aligning her mouth for his convenience. For his experiment.

  It’s like a clinical trial, Jewel told herself. Something scientific. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

  “Are you ready?” he whispered, that smile still quirking his mouth.

  “Just get on with it,” she gritted out.

  Then his lips descended.

  And suddenly she found herself leaning back, her hand braced on his chest to keep him away, even a
s her whole body continued to tremble. “Wait.”

  He stilled, his eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

  “Are you…have you…” It was just a kiss, she tried telling herself again, but then more words were spilling from her lips. “Have you…kissed anyone else?”

  His gaze didn’t shift from her face. “Do you mean after the missing gap of time in my head?”

  “Yes. After.” She swallowed, hating herself for wanting to hear him say it, even as she knew the answer, because she knew him, because she knew his sexual appetite wasn’t something that he’d ignore for months on end.

  And he’d been away from her for twenty months. Twenty months that he said he could perfectly recall. It was only the few months before his trip—when he’d been with Jewel—that he didn’t remember.

  The blush heating her face could probably be seen from outer space.

  “After,” she said again.

  His thumb reached up to brush her hot skin, and he smiled. “Only one kiss, baby.”

  Stupid, how hearing him admit he’d had one lover since her—whom he hadn’t even remembered—could feel like such a…such a betrayal. It was a lower number than she’d expected, after all.

  His expression sobered, as if he could read everything going on inside her head. And again, blast, he probably could. “I’m talking about the kiss at The Hideaway, sweetheart. Our kiss.”

  She stared at him. He’d taken her at her word when she asked him to tally his kisses. In her mind, it had been a euphemism for women. For bedmates. Sexual partners. There hadn’t been any?

  “I…oh. Okay.” Should she believe him? But he didn’t have any reason to lie. His honesty had never been in question, and this kiss-in-the-offing wasn’t supposed to rekindle a relationship between the two of them.

  It was a clinical trial.

  “All right,” Jewel said now, hauling in a deep breath. “All right, I’m ready.”

  But he didn’t move except for his eyes narrowing again. “What about you?” he asked, his voice low. “Tell me about that.”

  His dark tone made her pulse pound. Thrilled her.

  He took her chin in his hand, his hold on her firm. “Who have you been with since me, Jewel?”

  At the possessive question, her bones melted, and the place between her thighs flooded with wetness. “Beck…” she whispered, her gaze on him.

  The bones of his face had hardened to stone, and for some reason that caused her blood to move like hot honey through her veins.

  “Jewel.” His voice went harder and she went softer, everywhere.

  “No one,” she whispered, and saw his expression relax in a way that only thrilled her more. Sue her, she liked that hint of jealousy—she had when they’d been together, too, when he’d growl under his breath and glare at the men he thought were looking at her too closely.

  It was a balm to the whole “maybe-Jewel-is-unlovable” wound that had never quite healed.

  Soul will never have such doubts, she promised herself. Never.

  But the thought of her baby made her twitch in Beck’s hold.

  “What is it?”

  “I need to check on Soul,” she said. “Let me just look in, and I’ll be right back.”

  He let her up without protest, and she hurried away down the hall. In the baby’s room she saw her daughter was deep in dreamland, her dark curls a little sweaty around the edges and clinging to her impossibly soft skin. She touched a tiny hand, a foot, and then thought of the man who had been part of making this most miraculous thing.

  A kiss. She owed him at least that.

  “Is she okay?” Beck asked as Jewel returned to the family room.

  “An angel,” she assured him, then returned to her seat on the cushion beside his. Her nerves instantly lit up again.

  He scooped up the bowl of cherries from the side table next to him and plucked one of the fruits. “I think we better prime the pump again,” he said, holding it up to her lips.

  “Um—”

  The sweet was popped into her mouth and cut off whatever she was about to say. As she chewed, she berated herself for making such a big deal about this. It was just a kiss. Between a mother and the father of her child.

  A mother, she reminded herself again. Strong and capable.

  She swallowed, ignoring another flutter of nerves. Then, mentally girded, she looked at Beck. “Ready.”

  Instead of getting on with it, he frowned. “I’m really bothered by that ridiculous Shirley line I used.”

  It surprised a laugh out of her. He wanted to discuss that now? “What? Why?”

  “It’s a bad line. Cheesy. Did I really say that?”

  Her mouth twitched, and she relaxed a little. “You really did.” He looked so disgruntled she found herself reaching for his hair, pushing it off his forehead like she’d done with their daughter’s. “If you must know, I found it disarming.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “There I was, seated beside my childhood secret crush, now a man bronzed and gorgeous and more than a little intimidating. But then you dangled that dumb line, and I realized you were more ordinary guy than I expected.”

  Later, in bed—well, wherever—was when she’d known her first impression had been the most accurate.

  He raised a brow. “Bronzed and gorgeous?”

  Why lie? “Yes.”

  “And disarming.” He seemed to mull that over. “I think that was part of my strategy.” The idea seemed to please him.

  Jewel, not so much. She frowned at him. “Are you telling me you were planning my seduction?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “I can’t remember, remember?”

  “Well, do you usually scheme to get a woman into bed with you?”

  On a smile, he leaned close, his voice low. “I listen, for a hitch in her breath and a little whimper from the back of her throat. I watch, to see the goosebumps rise on her flesh and the pulse at her neck to accelerate.”

  It was as if he’d set Jewel on fire again, this time with a blow torch that scalded her skin and melted her from the outside in. “Beck…” Oh, yes, there was a hitch in her breath.

  He caged her face in one big hand, his thumb under her chin, his fingertips sifting into the hair at her temple.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

  And that was it for her. Done with waiting, over all the nervous anticipation, Jewel shifted up and kissed him.

  He didn’t pull back. Instead, his mouth opened and his tongue instantly slid between her lips, taking control. She trembled, that brash confidence of his getting to her as it did every time. She gripped his shoulders as he leaned over her, the kiss going wild and wet in the first seconds.

  One of his hands slid down the column of her throat, to her collarbone, to cover a breast. She whimpered as he merely held it, even as he had to have felt the press of her aching nipple. Her breast swelled into his palm, and she arched, needing more attention.

  Murmuring another soothing sound, he lifted his mouth to drag his lips over her cheek and to her neck. He licked her there, chasing the goosebumps, and then he latched on to her nipple over her T-shirt. She arched again, and he wet the material with his tongue, then sucked hard, harder, as she clutched at his shirt and tried to find her way into the cotton fabric.

  He leaned away to strip it off and then pull hers free, and they were staring at each other, naked chests heaving. He was ripped and tan, and the sight of those heavy muscles made more heat curl in her belly. Then he reached out, slowly, and toyed with her nipple with the edge of his thumb.

  She harshly sucked in air, hollowing her belly, and then he drew her into his arms again and they were bare-to-bare and he was kissing her once more, voracious and unforgiving. Her lips felt bruised already, but she didn’t want to interrupt the delicious pressure or the forceful thrust of his tongue. Her hips undulated of their own accord, and Beck caught her hip in one big hand, restraining her.

  Making her wild. It was his talent, his trick, like th
e listening and the watching, the way he used his touch to control her and make the pleasure build by degrees. And by his decree.

  He slid his palm to press it low on her belly, centering her heat and arousal in that spot. She moaned and ran her hands along his hard chest, rubbing her own palms over the hardened points of his nipples. He caught her wrists in his free hand and held them firmly, and she closed her eyes at the sweet bliss of being tethered in this way.

  Tethered to him.

  But she pushed that notion off as his mouth moved to her ear once more. He tongued the curve and bit the lobe, and she felt greedy and yearning. And it was hitting her so fast, this need to come.

  “Beck,” she said, struggling to free her hands and loving it when his grip on her tightened.

  Like he never would let her get away.

  Her head dropped back, and he was at her throat, rubbing his whiskered chin against her tender skin and following that up with the wet slick of his tongue. She undulated under his hard hand, the one still pressed tight to her belly, and panted, lost in hot, heady want.

  His mouth found her breasts again, to suck hard on her nipples and then wash the aching points with lavish strokes. She bit her bottom lip so as not to cry out and saw his gaze flicker up.

  “That’s for me,” he said, then he did it, bit her bottom lip and sucked on it, too, in a manner that wasn’t soothing at all. Only more arousing.

  Oh, God.

  She quivered as his hand lifted from her belly to insinuate beneath the waistband of her shorts. His fingertips slid under the elastic band of her panties, and she went perfectly still, afraid an errant breath or movement might take him off the path.

  He pushed his tongue into her mouth as two of his big fingers slid along the wet seam there, opening the lips, letting them flower around the blunt tips. Now she widened her legs, and he grunted in approval. Then he began to stroke her, breaching her core to draw up the moisture that he used to lubricate her clit as he played there.

  Jewel felt strung on a rack of pleasure, and she shook as he continued to stroke and toy and then thrust up inside her. She arched, trying to take as much of him as possible, and he lifted his head to watch her eyes.