Blurring the Lines-nook

by Roni Loren

  “Burke, please.”

  But he wasn’t satisfied yet. Because his fingers soon joined in, slicking my arousal over my entrance and sliding inside me. My body clamped hard around the welcome intrusion and I groaned.

  “That’s right, cher,” he said, his voice roughened and his fingers moving inside me in steady, sensual torture. “You taste so sweet and feel so hot around my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

  I’d never heard him use that word before. But hell if it didn’t make my stomach flip and my arousal jump into the red zone. My heart pounded, my body throbbed, and my breath had gone choppy. I was so close. But my body ached for more—for him. “Burke. I don’t want…I need…”

  “Not yet, give me this one first. I want to hear you,” he said, then dropped down and sucked my clit between his lips, while keeping the pace with his fingers.

  It was all too much for my starved senses to resist. Sparks shot through me, and all of my muscles seized as I hovered at the precipice for one bright, fraught moment, before I tumbled helplessly into the euphoria of it all. His name rode my lips over and over again, and my hips rocked in time with his mouth and fingers. I couldn’t hear the water anymore, just my own blood roaring in my ears and my voice calling for the man giving me this moment.

  When I felt like I couldn’t handle anymore, I shifted backward and Burke finally released me. I collapsed onto the pillows in a panting, sweaty mess. But the man kneeling in front of me didn’t look like he was planning on giving me a break. My eyes followed him as he climbed off the bed.

  He stood at the foot of it, looking like temptation-soaked sin with his tousled hair and glossy lips. I wanted to eat him. He reached for his swim trunks. “Still with me, cher?”

  “Can’t breathe. But so with you.”

  “Good.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the slow drag of his hands pulling down his shorts. But when he straightened and stroked the thick erection jutting from between his thighs, every muscle in my body seemed to lurch and coil like I hadn’t just had a rocking orgasm seconds before.

  I needed more. I needed him. I wondered if I could ever get enough.

  He reached into the pocket of his discarded shorts for a condom and rolled it on without taking his focus off of me. “Last chance, cher. I want you so goddamned much. But we can’t take this back once it’s done.”

  The words and the warning in his voice made me frown. “Why would I want to take it back?”

  He gave a nod, something resolute coming over his face, and crawled onto the bed with me, bracing himself over me. “I just want to make sure. You’re too important to me to push you too far and fuck this up.”

  I stared up at him, at this man who stirred this thing in me I couldn’t even articulate, and cupped his jaw. “There’s nothing in this world I want more than this, right now.”

  The tenderness that lit in his eyes nearly broke me open. He reached back to hook my legs around his waist. “That makes two of us, cher.”

  He positioned himself between my thighs, teasing me mercilessly as he dragged his erection along my folds until I could tell even he could take no more, and then he pushed inside me. Slow and full and perfect. My body stretched, protesting some and reminding me it’d been a long time, but at the same time something much deeper inside me relaxed, aligned, and settled.

  This felt right. Good. Amazing.

  I banded my arms around him and drew him down to me. His mouth moved over mine and our bodies took over the rhythm like the ocean behind us, rising and falling, crashing against each other. Gentle and rough. Sweet and dirty. All at the same time. Desperate in the best possible way. Like we were starved for each other and this would be the only meal we’d share.

  Burke was full of sexy sounds and grunts, hot words and promises. I loved how vocal he was, how he said my name, how he said the word fuck—like it was the most magical and transcendent of words. Like the connection of our bodies was some form of worship.

  And maybe it was. I certainly was ready to thank whatever supreme being had gifted me with his man.

  Burke braced his forearms on each side of me, sweat making his dark hair curl at his temples, and rocked deep into me. With each glide of his hips, he dragged his body over my clit, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. “Burke.”

  His name was more of a plea this time and his eyes went dark at the sound of it. “That’s right, cher. Take what you need. Let me see you let go.”

  And that was all it took. I went over the precipice again, digging my nails into his back and meeting him thrust for thrust with some crazed, frantic rhythm.

  He came with a rumbling primal noise, joining me on the ride and letting our voices drown out not just the waves but the world around us. We were flying. Suspended. Protected. For a few seconds, nothing was more powerful than the two of us colliding.

  All was right in the universe.

  I wished I could’ve held onto the moment longer. But I took comfort in knowing we had a whole week ahead of us.

  A while later, we were snuggled up under a beach towel, drifting in our own thoughts as we gazed out at the ocean and stars. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so content. Burke turned to me, his movements languid. “Still doing okay with all this?”

  I dragged my gaze from the sky to look at him. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

  Tension lines appeared around his mouth, and he reached out to move my hair away from my face. “It’s just, I know we agreed to be two other people out here, but I’m not oblivious, Gretch. This is a big step and has to have brought up some stuff for you. A few days ago, you flipped out about a kiss, so I can only imagine what’s going through your head with this. Hell, it brings up stuff for me.”

  I stared at him, all the words not meshing together. Kissing. And flipping out. And bringing up stuff. It was like a foreign language that wouldn’t translate in my head. “What do you mean stuff?”

  “You know what I mean. I just don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk about him.”

  “Who?”

  His jaw twitched. “Come on, Gretch. You don’t have to commit that fully to this role. You can talk about Harris.”

  And that was when I realized something was very, very wrong. Because the concern on his face said this was something big. Something I should know. Something vital.

  And all I could ask was, “Who’s Harris?”

  Chapter 8

  ~Burke~

  Burke sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Every part of him was cold, and he had to fight back the urge to retch into the bushes next to the cabana. The doctor was in with Gretchen again and had asked him to wait outside because he’d been ranting about how Gretchen needed to be transported to a hospital. He’d refused to leave her side, but Gretchen had finally interrupted and told him to take a walk.

  Couldn’t fucking blame her.

  She had the right to hate him. He hated himself. She’d gotten a concussion today, had lost memories, and still he went forward with the plans for the night like some horny, love-struck teenager. Even when he sensed that she wasn’t quite herself, that she seemed too relaxed and into everything, he’d hadn’t let himself question it. He’d allowed himself to believe that it was finally happening, that Gretchen was coming out of her grief and really seeing him as not just her friend but something more.

  Hell, at points tonight, he’d even let himself imagine that she could love him. There’s no one else I’d rather be here with right now. He should’ve known then that something was wrong. Because the real Gretchen would never say that. There was always someone else she would rather be with—his brother.

  And right in this moment, Burke hated Harris. Hated him. If he could turn back time to that night of Truth or Dare, he would fight for Gretchen instead of letting her sail on to Harris. He would tell her how he felt. He would show her. Because maybe he wouldn’t have been able to give her all the uptown perks and the fancy New York apartme
nt, but he would’ve never hurt her like his brother had. He would’ve loved her.

  He already did.

  Now it was all fucked to hell. He’d crossed an uncrossable line. And even if she forgave him for that, things would never be the same because he’d exposed too much. He’d let her see how he really felt in all its unedited glory. There was no coming back from that.

  When the memory of Harris returned, the guilt and regret that would crash down on her would be absolutely annihilating. This would wreck her. Not only that she’d slept with Burke with such abandon, but that’d she’d forgotten about Harris even for a second.

  In Gretchen’s world, that would be an unforgivable sin.

  He would be an unforgivable sin.

  Their friendship wouldn’t survive it.

  The door opened behind him and he lifted his head. Dr. Magdalene stepped outside and shut the door quietly behind her.

  Burke stood. “How is she?”

  “She’s resting now, but she’s okay. Just trying to figure it all out.”

  He sagged against the porch railing. “So no memories still. Look, I’m sorry I yelled. That was out of line. But shouldn’t we get her to a hospital? What if the head injury is more serious than we thought?”

  Dr. Magdalene lowered herself into one of the porch rocking chairs in a swirl of colored fabric and patted the seat of the one next to her. “Sit, child.”

  Something about her voice and the way she put her words together brought back memories of Gretchen’s gran again, but he shook off the eerie feeling, and joined her.

  For a while, the doctor was quiet. The island breeze whirled around them, shaking the palms and making everything sound like cascading water. Calm. Peaceful. Burke was none of those things and had to fight hard not to demand she start talking. But he sensed this was a woman who wouldn’t be rushed.

  Dr. Magdalene stared out at the knotted foliage that surrounded the cabana and finally said, “Physically, she’s fine and in no danger. And her memories are there but…altered.”

  He frowned. “Altered?”

  “Yes.” Magdalene released a slow breath. “She told me of New York, her painting. She talked about where she went to college. She talked of your friendship and how long you’ve known each other. Those things seem to be clear in her head.”

  “But Harris was there for all those things.” How could she remember New York and not the man who moved her there?

  “Yes, I figured as much. There are holes when I ask her to talk about dates she’s been on, men she’s kissed. There is a blank spot where her Harris used to be, like he’s been cut out of the photos.”

  He laced his fingers between his knees and shook his head. “That can’t be a normal reaction to a concussion, right?”

  She pressed her lips together, still looking out into the darkness like it held answers. “It is not, no. I suspect there are other things at work.”

  “You’re losing me, doc.”

  Her hands folded in her lap, one thumb rubbing across the other in an absentminded motion. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about this part of the ocean. Ships go astray and disappear. Instruments can’t find their north. Tricks of the eyes tempt people to their ruin.”

  Burke didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t have time for hocus pocus bullshit. He got enough of that in New Orleans. “Doc—”

  “If you search for it on a map, you will never find this island. Our pilot probably doesn’t even realize it, but you can only get here by following your instincts. The island will lead you to it, but you have to trust it to do so.”

  “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” he mumbled. The one doctor on the island was a goddamned nutcase.

  She sent him a quelling look, and her posture seemed to morph in an instant. “Burke Brennan, you never had patience as a boy, and you still have not learned it. Open your ears and listen. You may have won her heart in the beginning if you hadn’t been so impulsive before.”

  The sharp tone wasn’t what had him stilling in his seat. No, it was the blatant familiarity. The Cajun accent. It was the voice of a woman he hadn’t heard since she’d passed on. And definitely not the voice of Dr. Magdalene. He blinked a few times, sure that he was losing his fucking mind.

  She gave a curt nod—as if the matter was settled that he’d shut up. “Your faith needs work, boy. I was hoping not to have to impose upon the good doctor more than I needed to, but you have a hard head.”

  Burke simply stared. His companion didn’t pay any mind to his breakdown in progress, though.

  “You need to hear this. This place is both beautiful and terrible. Blessed and cursed. The energy here is potent and can act in unpredictable ways. But its roots are good.” She smoothed her skirt with hands that didn’t belong to the voice. “It brought me here to you two and to the doctor because Gretchen needed me. I think all of this other stuff is just more of that.”

  The island knows what you need. Christ, he was losing it. Maybe he’d been the one to hit his head. Maybe he was still on the plane in a coma. Attention men in white coats! You can come and collect me now.

  “Gretchen wishes more than anything for closure,” she continued. “But she could never get it because she’s holding on so hard—to her guilt, to the memories, to the man who left her. And that boy isn’t making it any easier on her, let me tell you.”

  That snapped Burke to attention. “Wait, what?”

  “He lingers, child.” She flicked her hand out toward the trees like Harris was hiding in the leaves somewhere.

  Of course, Burke couldn’t help but look that way, which made him feel even more ridiculous.

  “She needed a roadblock removed to go forward, and the island took care of it for her—at least temporarily.”

  “Her memories of Harris.”

  Her chin dipped low, a far off twinkle in her eyes. “Yes, child. It gave her her wish.”

  Anger welled in him. “No. It gave us a lie. She never would’ve wanted to forget Harris. And it made her do things she never would’ve done. Say things she never would’ve said.”

  “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, young man,” she said with a small smile. She patted his knee and stood. “Removing a roadblock only allows what was already there to drive on through. It does not create new things out of nothing.”

  “But—”

  “She needs to make peace.” She took his hand, opened his palm, and placed something in it before curling his fingers back over it. “Tell her to wear this and to go to the spot where the road to your beach crosses with the road to the main house. It must be past midnight but before the sun shines any light. And tell her the answers are there, she only has to listen like she did when she was a child. If she lets go of her fear, the door will open again.”

  He unfurled his fingers, revealing the small medal in his palm. It was like the one Gretchen had always worn around her neck. But he hadn’t seen hers on her in days. “How do you have—”

  But when he lifted his head, Dr. Magdalene was gone.

  He jumped to his feet and took a quick stride across the porch, knowing there was no way the portly older woman could move that quickly and without a sound. But when he peered around the front of the cabana, he was alone.

  He rested his head against the porch post and banged gently. This had to be a dream. Or maybe they’d laced the cheese and crackers with hallucinogenics. Or maybe the plane had crashed and he was in some purgatory state.

  Or maybe that was Gran.

  The door squeaked behind him. He turned, finding Gretchen leaning against the doorjamb. Her hair was twisted up in a knot on top her head, and she’d put on pajama bottoms and a tank top. She rolled her lips together. Nervous. Awkward. Beautiful. “Hey.”

  He hated that he couldn’t go to her. Hated this weird gulf that had dropped right between them. “Hey.”

  “Sorry I kicked you out earlier. I just—I needed to think. And I knew I didn’t need a hospital.”

  “No, it’s
my fault. I was acting like an ass.” His gaze fell to the floorboards, which seemed to stretch for miles between them, and rubbed the back of his neck. “God, Gretch, I don’t even know what to say right now. I’m so sorry for not realizing that things weren’t okay before—well, before everything. I would’ve never—”

  “I know,” she said, cutting him off. “I can’t remember everything, but I haven’t forgotten the kind of man you are. You couldn’t have known.”

  He let out a breath, the exhalation physically painful. “How are you feeling?”

  “Scared.”

  He looked up, surprised at the answer. “Scared that you won’t remember?”

  She gave a little shrug. “Maybe more scared that I will.”

  “What?”

  Her expression darkened. “A man I was engaged to and apparently loved died. You told me I’ve been depressed and grieving for a year. At the beach, you said that a few days ago, a kiss from you freaked me out.” Her gaze slid toward the trees. “Does it make me a terrible person if I don’t want to remember?”

  “Oh, cher.”

  She turned to him, her eyes sad. “Things were perfect on that beach with you, Burke. I—I’m feeling things for you. Things that feel right and good. I feel…happy. And even without my memories, I can sense that I haven’t been that way in a very long time.” She pressed her fingers to her sternum and rubbed. “I can feel that dark place inside me where all of this is probably locked up. And maybe it makes me a bad person or a coward, but I don’t want to open it. All I want is for you to come to bed, curl up with me, and fall asleep to the waves. I want to be who we were on the beach.”

  Pain striped through his chest. “Gretch, you can’t just—Magdalene said you need to go to the crossroads on the island tonight before sunrise and listen. It will help you. We can’t ignore—”

  “We can do whatever we want to.” she said, her voice wavering a bit but her words firm. She took tentative steps onto the porch and didn’t stop until she stood in front of him. She put her hands to his chest. “If this is the only vacation I get from what sounds like a pretty tragic life, I don’t want to end it prematurely. I need this, Burke. I need you.”