And the woman at the motel. Who was she? She’d talked about heists. What heists? Did she mean that I had committed a crime? Why would I do that?
And the man in the SUV. Who was he?
It was all getting more and more complicated. I’d spent more than six months living in solitude in Houston and now, all of a sudden, everyone and their dog was suddenly on my tail. And I had no idea why, but felt like I should. I should know who I was, I should know what happened to me in the past, should know who might care enough about me to come looking for me. But apparently there was no one.
No family, anyway. No business colleagues. One private detective told me that I must have been a recluse of some sort, because he had never seen anyone who was capable of completely disappearing the way I obviously had. No missing person reports, no news items. Nothing.
Who was I?
The more I learned about myself, the more I was beginning to wonder if I really wanted to know.
I climbed out of the shower and dried off, shivering as I stood at the sink and went through my regular routine. Brush the teeth. Shave. Comb my hair. I wondered if this was the same routine I had had before I lost my memory. Did I keep my hair this short then? Did I get lazy about shaving and let my beard grow for a couple of days like I did now? Did I use this same toothpaste, this same aftershave?
Staring at myself in the mirror was like staring at a stranger. I knew absolutely nothing about this person.
I stepped out into the bedroom and moved quietly around the room, searching through my bag for clean clothes, scrounging through the supplies I’d bought for a bottle of water. Rhett shifted on the bed, but didn’t wake. I found myself watching her, watching the way her chest moved with every inhale and exhale of breath. I wondered if I’d ever sat and watched a woman sleep like this before. Did I have a wife who missed me somewhere? A girlfriend or part time lover? Surely I wasn’t … I doubted I was inexperienced. The desire was there. My body knew what to do, even if I couldn’t remember the last time I’d lain with a woman.
I pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and curled up, watching her as I struggled to shut my mind down. There were too many questions to answer and not enough information to answer them with.
It was late and I was just beginning to drift off to sleep when Rhett suddenly cried out. She sat up and pulled at the bandage on her thigh, ripping at it like it was an animal trying to bite her. I grabbed her wrists to keep her from hurting herself and she panicked, screaming and pulling away from me.
I climbed onto the bed and pinned her back against the mattress, trying to hold her still before she could hurt herself. There was pure horror on her face, a fright like I’d never seen on anyone’s face before. I wanted to let her go, but I didn’t want her to open her wound.
“Rhett, stop fighting me!”
She cried out, a scream that was as filled with frustration as it was fright. She pushed against me with her whole body, kicking the blankets off, forcing me to lay my chest over hers. That only made her scream again.
“Rhett, it’s me. It’s Xander. Richard.”
That forced her to focus. “My leg,” she mumbled.
“You were shot.”
She tugged at my hands again, trying to sit up. I continued to hold her down, still worried about what she might do, but the screaming stopped. She studied my face, the fear and terror slowly leaving her eyes. Slowly. But not completely.
“Please, let me go.”
“You won’t touch the bandage?”
She shook her head.
I released her wrists, my fingers grazing the underside of her arms, lingering in the crease of her elbow. I sat up, aware that she was still watching me with that deer in the headlights sort of gaze. And then she sat up and realized that she was naked.
“Where are my clothes?”
“They were soaked in blood. I had to toss them.”
She gave a slight nod, indicating that she understood, but she still seemed a little confused, if the way she ran her hands over herself was any indication. She touched the bandage I’d wrapped around her leg again, her fingernail running under the edge.
“You did this?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know what to do?”
“How do I know how to do anything?”
She looked at me, once again the Rhett I’d met this morning. There was a wry amusement in her eyes.
“So you’ve seen me naked. When do I get to see you naked?”
I laughed. She laughed too, the sound changing as she adjusted her body on the bed, pain shooting up through her leg.
“It was buried in the muscle. It’ll be pretty sore for a while.”
She nodded. “I was shot in the upper arm when I was a rookie cop.” She touched a spot just below her shoulder where there was a thin scar. “Another rookie who got too excited. Hurt like a son of a gun.”
“I wish I had some painkillers for you, but the best I could do was aspirin.”
“That’s okay. I wouldn’t take them if you had them. I need a clear head.”
She lifted herself up, pulling back against the headboard, her leg straight out in front of her. She winced again, but she seemed to be handling it well. And I couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t going out of her way to cover herself up.
The blanket had fallen almost completely off of her, covering only a small patch of her hip. Her breasts were completely uncovered, along with her flat belly and her full thighs. I had to sit up a little, adjust my position. I wasn’t superhuman. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.
“Your turn,” she said.
“My turn, what?”
“Time to get naked.”
“You were serious?”
She bit her bottom lip. “I’m deadly serious.”
“If I got naked, things would have to progress.”
“Sex is a great painkiller.” I must have made a surprised face, because she started to laugh. “Come on,” she said between gales of giggles, “I’m sure you’ve been propositioned hundreds of times by women like me.”
“Not hundreds. Not that I know of.”
“What about that woman at the hospital. What was her name? Sara?”
“Nothing happened with Sara.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.”
“We kissed.” I leaned forward a little, my eyes moving slowly over her legs. “It was a couple of weeks before I was discharged. She came on to me, I kissed her, but nothing happened.”
She ran her fingers through her hair, lifting her hair off of her neck. “She liked you. A lot.”
“She didn’t know me.”
“I don’t know you.” She laughed softly. “You don’t know you.”
“Thanks for that.” I stood up and leaned over her, brushing my lips over her forehead. “You need to get dressed. You’re driving me crazy.”
She grabbed the collar of my T-shirt before I could pull away. She kissed me hard on the lips, the tip of her tongue sneaking out to tease me. I couldn’t help but move into her, to open to her and hope that she would offer more. But then she pulled away.
“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.”
“Yeah? Me too.”
She shook her head. “I doubt that. A guy who looks like you isn’t attracted to a woman like me.”
“What’s a woman like you?”
Her eyes came up sharply, like she thought I was teasing her. “I’m not a supermodel, not a stick with no curves. I have curves, but I don’t dress in tight shirts that make my boobs look ten times bigger than they really are. And I don’t look good in a pencil skirt.”
My eyes moved slowly down the length of her body. “You look pretty good to me.”
She blushed. “I’m a tomboy. I’d rather wear jeans or sweat pants than dress up in fancy clothes.”
“Good. I don’t like all that fuss.”
“How do you know?”
I groaned. “I don’t think that’s something th
at would change with or without memories. I know what I like, and I know that I like what I’m seeing right now, right here in front of me.”
Tears came into her eyes. She looked away, but not before I saw them. I stepped back and ripped the T-shirt over my head, my hands working my belt so quickly that my fingers fumbled and slipped over the mechanism.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting naked.”
She sat up a little higher, her hands coming up as though to fend me off before I’d even touched her. Her eyes were wide with need as she watched my jeans fall to the floor, my briefs quickly following. I didn’t have memories of women checking me out once my clothes hit the floor, but I couldn’t imagine ever forgetting the way it felt to see the appreciation in Rhett’s eyes.
I crawled onto the bed beside her, my hands sliding over her hip as I drew her close to me. She stiffened a little, resisting me.
“I …” She hesitated, her eyes still moving over me even as tension burned through her. “I need have some control,” she finally said.
“Okay. Just tell me what you want.”
Her eyes came up to mine. Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“You saved my life.”
“You saved mine.”
I brushed the tears from her face. “Tell me what you want.”
She winced as she turned into me, pushing my shoulder until I was laid back against the pillows. She climbed on top of me, her hands moving over my face, my chest, her fingers lingering against my ribs. I buried my fingers in her dark hair, tugging her close to me, our lips brushing lightly before I kissed her with all the passion that looking at her, that speaking to her, created inside of me.
There was something about her that threatened to drive me out of my mind. I wasn’t sure what it was, or why this woman had this power over me when all those nurses, all those beautiful, caring women at the hospital couldn’t inspire anything like this inside of me. But she did.
We kissed, our tongues dancing together, our bodies moving closer. I sat up, sliding my arms around her, my hands moving slowly over the length of her back. She touched me, her hands resting on my shoulders and then sliding down my back, over the outside of my arms. She pressed her hand against the back of my hand where it rested on her jaw, forcing me to hold her tighter.
And then her fingers were tangled in the short little wisps of my hair, tugging to twist my head around this way and that. I went with her touch, wanting to give her whatever she needed. I wanted to submit myself to her, to allow her to use me however she needed to.
And I wanted to throw her down against the mattress, to fuck her until neither of us could move. I wanted her in a desperate sort of way that made my balls ache, that made my lower belly feel like it was filled with lead. I wanted her with a desperation that only grew with every moment that passed.
She pulled back, her eyes moving over my face again, like she was trying to memorize me. Her fingertip pressed to my scar, running slowly over the length of it, all the way into my hairline. And then she kissed it at the same moment she moved her hips, riding her body the whole length of my cock. I closed my eyes as the tip of my cock brushed against her clit. But then she pulled back, stopping just before she would have allowed me to knock at her entrance.
I slid my hands over her hips, wanting to pull her forward, wanting to force her into position, but I could feel the resistance in her body even before I had a good grip on her. She rode the length of me again, a moan slipping from between her lips that was both pleasure and pain.
“Does it hurt?” I asked, my lips pressed against her throat.
“A little.”
She was lying. I knew she was lying, but I knew anything I did to make it easier on her would only seem to be taking away her control. So I lay back, propped my head up on the pillows, and watched her. She reached up and lifted her hair off her neck in that way she had, stretching the length of her body in a way that made her nipples reach up to the ceiling and her hipbones show tight against her flesh.
I wanted to touch her all over, but I wanted to watch. It was a conundrum that men have struggled with since the beginning of time, the desire to touch and observe, to be turned on by physical sensation or by visual stimulation. They were both intense, both threats to the equilibrium. I wanted her. I wanted to feel her, to touch her. But I wanted to watch her please herself, too.
And she was. The pleasure was written on every line on her face. She slid her body against mine, her hands moving first over her own body, lingering over her breasts, her fingers twisting her nipples in their grip. Her hands slipped down over her belly, along her hips, all the while she was riding the length of my shaft, sliding her moist cunt along the outside of my cock. And then her hands moved over my belly, up along my ribs. She touched my chest, my shoulders, her hands memorizing the angles and curves of both our bodies.
She kissed me, her lips brushing mine before moving over my jaw. She nibbled at my throat, my earlobe, touching me, tasting me everywhere her desire took her. When she straightened again, she rose up on her knees, a moan of pain mixed with pleasure slipping from her lips as she guided me inside of her, allowing my cock to bury itself deep inside her beautiful body. I caught my breath, my own groan deep and almost painful.
It was a dance, the way this woman moved on top of me. I watched, mesmerized. She was more than beautiful, more than enchanting. She made me forget that I’d already forgotten myself. She made the future less frightening and more like an adventure. She made the events of the last twelve hours seem like a distant dream.
I could only stand watching for just a little longer. I finally had to sit up, to wrap my arms around her and encourage her to move with a little more friction. My eyes rolled back into my head as pleasure burst over me, as her body swallowed me whole and threatened to spit me out that way, too. She felt so incredibly good! And I knew it was good for her, too. She was making these soft little sounds in the back of her throat, groaning almost imperceptivity, like she didn’t want me to know just how incredible it really was.
She wrapped her arms around my head and pressed me forward into her chest as her moans grew steadier, louder. And then she cried out, the sound like music floating around the vision of an angel. It wasn’t but a second before I joined her in her screams, groaning deep in my chest as my own orgasm exploded through my body. I held her tight, refusing to let her go until the spasms slowly began to die. I fell back and she followed, curling up against my chest, our bodies still neatly encased in one another.
I closed my eyes, listening to my breath come and go in time with hers. I slipped my arms around her, my hands moving slowly over the length of her spine.
I could do this. I could lie here like this for the rest of my life and be content to never know who I was.
Chapter 7
Rhett
I lay my head on his shoulder and sighed, the sound belying the chaos that was going on inside my chest. I’d done it! I’d actually had sex with the best-looking man I’d ever met! And I didn’t panic.
That was the real accomplishment. I’d lain with a man and not panicked. It wasn’t like the first time after. My life was divided into before and after. Before was when I was a precocious high school student who couldn’t get the attention of the captain of the football team because I wasn’t the head cheerleader.
Before was the naive girl who thought that because her dad was a cop that she could rule the roost, the naive girl who was quickly put into her place by the academy instructors and their star pupils. Before was the girl with a gun who thought she could party hard and work just as hard without any consequences.
After was the seasoned girl who finally realized that the world wasn’t as black and white as she’d always assumed it was.
Not only did I not panic, but I was lying on his chest, feeling his body move with every breath he took, not afraid to feel his arousal touch my body, not afraid to feel him inside of me.
In fact, I’d taken him inside of me and loved every inch of it, loved the feel of closeness, the intimacy, in a way I hadn’t done since before I became that girl. And I wasn’t frightened by the feel of his hands moving over my back. In fact, I kind of liked it.
That was a real move in the right direction.
I was attacked a week after I made detective. There was a group of old school cops who didn’t think a girl should move into their ranks quite as easily as they felt I’d done. They thought the best way to deal with it was to put this little girl in her place. A bunch of cops who should have known better, cops who had wives and sisters and daughters. But there was family, and there was the job. And I was fucking with the natural order of things.
I stuck it out, worked day in and day out with my attackers for over a year before I finally gave in and left the force. Waited until my father had given his life for the force, waited until my mother drank herself into a jail cell. Waited to prove a point. To hell with my own sanity, my own sense of wellbeing, my own sense of security.
I thought I’d never be able to lie with a man like this again. For that alone, I was intensely grateful to Richard. Or Xander. Whatever the hell his name was.
“He called you Xander, too.”
“Who?”
“The man in the SUV.”
He was quiet for a moment, his hands growing still on my back. “What did he tell you?”
“That he works for another security firm up here in Austin. That he was hired to find you eighteen months ago.”
Richard sat up, forcing me into a sitting position in his lap as he did. He brushed the hair back from my face so that he could look me in the eye.
“Someone’s looking for me?”
“Yeah. But he wouldn’t say who.”
“Do you think … could it have been that woman? Could she have hired him?”
I shook my head. “She acted like she was with you the night of the accident, so she would have known where you were all that time.”
A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “Then I have someone out there who knew I was missing from the beginning. Someone who paid them to find me.”
DRAGON SECURITY: Volume 2: The Complete 6 Books Series Page 21
