Facing Fear (19 page)

He had never wanted to share a bath with anyone again until he met Nikki. He wanted to seduce her then, had even wondered briefly whether she could replace Leah. He had even played with this fantasy, setting up the seduction that would take her to this place. He had thought to pleasure her until she gave him all her secrets and took away his pain.

Little did he know how real a turn his fantasy would take! Here she was, in the bathroom he had created for Leah. He helped Nikki into the spa tub, watching her gleaming body slide into the water. She was his wife, and yet, she wasn’t.
Nikki, meet Leah. Leah, meet Nikki.
He meant the silent introduction to be mocking, but the irony of it didn’t escape him. Last night he had planned to bring a live woman to replace a dead one. Tonight the dead woman was alive. His eyes narrowed as he took in her wet breasts and long, long hair floating invitingly. His body responded to both women.

He joined her, the water lulling hot and sensual, as it lapped their bodies, maneuvering her to sit between his parted legs. She didn’t resist, although he could tell she was nervous again. That tiny flick of her tongue tempted him to kiss her, which he intended to do. Later.

Right now, he wished to make her want him as badly as he wanted her. He desperately wished her to remember him, too. She had locked away some part of them—she and he—in her mind, and he wanted her to release those memories. It was important.

He opened the bottle of shampoo she had brought the night before. He poured some into his hand and worked it into her hair, slowly massaging her scalp. It had been a lifetime ago when he had done this. She sighed softly again, relaxing against his chest.

“You started this,” he whispered. “You came back to me. I want to keep making love to you, just to make sure you’re real. A dozen times. A dozen dozen times. I’ll never get enough of you, Nikki.”

She leaned into his chest, angling her head. He didn’t give her a chance to say anything. He took slow, thorough possession of her mouth. Deeply, because she tempted him so. Insidiously, because he was selfish. Did she remember this, he wondered, as he explored her sweetness, loving the taste of her.

Without lifting his lips, he reached for the washcloth from the stack of towels nearby and dipped it into the water. Rubbed it down her exposed neck. Glided it down the velvety soft skin of her bosom. Her tongue quivered as he played with the small swells of her breasts, teasing her nipples till he felt them harden through the material. He moved the cloth between the valley of her breasts, and she groaned into his mouth as he went lower. Did she remember this?

When she tried to spin around, he tightened his arms around her, keeping her still. He allowed her to break off. The washcloth closed in on the underwater target. Her words came out in a rush as he teased her, using the pull-push of the water to elicit the response he wanted. Did she remember this?

“I…can’t…become her…again, Rick,” she gasped out. She had managed to surprise him. He paused. Her understanding of his inner struggle amazed him. “Don’t make me.”

Make her remember. He had to. He shifted his knees un
der hers, and very gently drew his legs up, parting her wide for the washcloth. For her sake, she had to remember.

“Rick!”

Nikki wasn’t even sure whether she was protesting or pleading. The old shadow of terror loomed close, threatening to take over. Every time he pushed her over the edge, her mind shut down, and although she was elated at the memories that had zipped in and out, the fear had also returned, each time more constricting than before. Her subconscious wasn’t used to this stimulation—too fast, too uncontrollable. Something was warning her to stop, or face the consequences. But she couldn’t stop Rick. He was insistent, as if he didn’t want her to think, just respond. He drew up his legs. She found her own draped over his, and she was wide open. His hand was heavy, the washcloth barely any protection from his fingers.

“Hmm, no underwear,” he murmured against her ear, a sexually satisfied voice. “Do you remember when you told me you weren’t wearing any panties right before we went into conference? It was just before you went away on assignment.”

Nikki couldn’t recall. Her mind was screaming a protest. A warning of some sort. “No,” she replied. And for some reason, she didn’t want to.

“You drove me wild crossing and uncrossing your legs while I stood in front of the map, trying to make sense of all the locations in my head that I was supposed to pinpoint. You had me in a sweat and were loving every minute of it, sitting there so innocently with the rest of the team, with that half smile on your lips. And I punished you like this afterward and almost made you late for your departure.”

She quivered with reaction as he slipped his fingers deeply into her curls. Punished her like this…punished her like this…

With scented oil on a rug. An alpaca rug of various colors. She had given it to him on his birthday. It was snow-soft, deep and luxurious, and he had given her a sensuous massage, a goodbye loving before she left on assignment.

The fireplace was lit and the warm glow from the fire cast
a reddish gold hue to their bodies as he made love to her, their bodies slick with the oil. He was wild, unwilling to let her come down as the hours ticked to dawn, and she let him “punish” her, again and again.

“This is for not wearing underwear,” he told her as he slid deep inside her, her legs over his shoulders. She came.

“This is for crossing and uncrossing your legs,” he said as he nudged her apart from behind and possessively thrust into her heat. She came.

Much later, still buried in her, he parted her legs draped over his thighs. He drew his legs up until she was wide and exposed, facing the fire. A muscular arm wrapped around her forearms and chest, keeping her captive. She knew she was in trouble then.

“And this,” he drawled into her hair, tangled all around their bodies, “is for heating me up like that fire. This is for almost making me come apart when you shifted your skirt.”

Warm oil. Slippery fingers. She was already swollen and sensitive from all his loving. His slick fingers moved slowly. She cried out, trying to catch her breath, as he tortured her.

Trapped in that position, she couldn’t shake his hand off. She couldn’t close her legs. And every time she tried to throw her hips up, she was made very aware what was heavily nestled between her legs, still inside her, still demanding her attention. His fingers worked their magic where she burned, and she stared into the fire in helpless pleasure, riding him as he grew thicker. Her whole body seemed to spasm from the inside out.

“Were you wet like this when you were watching me, hmm? Answer me, baby.”

“Yes,” she gasped out.

More oil. Mixed with her essence. He had slowed down to an agonizing pace, just barely putting pressure on that screaming spot. He was making a point. What? What? She didn’t even know she screamed out the question. He soothed her down, then brought her back to near peak. Her thighs throbbed from being parted that wide. She sobbed as he slowed down again.

“Should I leave you like this, wanting to finish off, so I know you’ll come back for me?” She shook her head. “No? You won’t come back?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll come back!” she screamed, struggling earnestly now.

“Good,” he whispered. “Now you can come, then come back to me.”

She came. She convulsed. She pulled at him inside till he started to tremble under her. Till both their cries mingled into one voice.

Nikki screamed her release, thrashing water left and right. The bottle of bath oil floated away as his glistening fingers kept its lazy pace. She kept coming.

The fire flickered fiercely as she came.

“Promise to return safely,” he ordered.

“I promise.”

Rick loved watching her like this. Giving her pleasure. Taking what she so generously gave. Her sexy throaty cries just for him, calling his name. She sank weakly against him, letting him take her wherever he wanted.

“Do you remember?” he whispered against her wet forehead.

She sighed, already out of it. “Yes. I came home,” she said.

Rick frowned, but was careful not to push too far. He washed her hair, taking time to savor its texture. She let him take care of her, giving soft sighs of pleasure now and then. When he was done, he pulled the release valve. He sat with her as the water gurgled down the drain. She was already half asleep.

Placing a tender kiss to her cheek, he curbed the disappointment bubbling up inside. She didn’t remember.

Later, he watched her sleeping in his bed. So peaceful. So beautiful. This time she hadn’t left him asleep. He couldn’t ask her if she couldn’t remember. He couldn’t ask her whether she really accessed files in his computer. And later betrayed him. And their country.

Nikki became aware of the regular rhythm of somebody’s breathing. Every part of her shrank away from the body on top of her in fear. Then she caught his scent, a clean, masculine tang mixed with that indefinable ingredient that was meant to heat up her awakening senses. Her initial panic receded. Only one person in this world could do this to her.

“Rick?” she said, very softly, not wanting to wake him up if he was asleep.

He was lying on her, covering her body with half of his, as if he was afraid she would disappear when he drifted off. She wondered how she could have slept like that—she had never been able to let anyone be on top too long. It was the loss of trust, a suffocating fear.

Yet, this morning, there was a man in the same bed with her, his big body blanketing hers. The sound of his muffled heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest against her cheek, the air that fanned her hair every time he exhaled—she wished they could lie here like this, undisturbed.

Here was the center of her universe. This bed, with this man, with this velvety silence. Out there was pain. Out there was something she didn’t feel like dealing with. She didn’t want to talk about things that hurt. Yet she knew it would be impossible.

When she had accepted this final contract, she had set the wheels in motion. She had wanted some closure to her past, both the missing chapters and the parts that haunted her. She had thought herself ready after all this time. A decade of healing. Surely she would be strong enough to face the truth.

“I dream about you sometimes but never dreamed of waking up to find you in my arms.” Rick’s voice was sleep-husky as he shifted. The warm imprint of his body heat was more pronounced now that she felt the cool air in the room against her warm skin. “I’m still telling myself that this is real, that I won’t wake up and find you gone.”

He turned her on her side, so that their bodies faced each other. She suspected that this was how they used to sleep—
her petite body tucked against him, her face buried in his chest as he tucked her under his chin. It felt right.

She lifted her head to look at him. Warmth stole into her cheeks at the look in his green eyes. They saw too much. They knew things about her that she couldn’t recall. A thousand questions. Would he tell her everything?

“I’m real,” she told him softly, “but am I real to you?”

He laced one hand in her hair, parting the long strands, and she vaguely remembered him combing it last night. She had been half asleep from sheer exhaustion after they had made love. His babying her had been narcotic, a form of mind seduction because she knew he had looked and touched her everywhere. Rick wasn’t a person who would do things in half measure.

This much she remembered and knew about her husband—he would be thorough in his search for the truth. She knew he would have checked for all the little things on her body that only he was familiar with. There were fleeting images of his lips on her back, on the mole near her ear, of a slow exploring hand with a towel, and yes, the sensual comfort of his combing the tangles out of her hair. Even now, his touch rekindled an answering flame in her.

“You’re real. It’s hard to believe it but you’re real.” His hand combed her hair, letting the heavy strands fall on top of his body. “Why has it taken you so long to come back?”

Rick kept his voice mild, soothing. There was so much between them. Years and years of questions. He must act with care here or put their relationship at risk. He was eager to find out what had happened but he forced himself to slow down. She had no full recollection and he had to broach cautiously. Be patient. Resume the game they had started the last few weeks.

“Ten years, Nikki.” He kept touching her, tilting her chin so he could see her expression. “Where have you been?”

Her eyes were troubled and he frowned. One of her eyes was dark brown, the other…He had forgotten about the first thing that had thrown him off. “Contact lenses.”

She hesitated and reached up, touching the one eye. “Yes.
I can’t see very well out of one eye, and afterwards they recommended a change of eye color, just to try out.”

He ignored the second statement. “Can’t see out of one eye,” he prompted. When she hesitated again, he added, “You have to tell me, Nikki. I need to know what happened.”

He had never known eyes could fill with pain the ways hers did. He almost said it was all right if she didn’t tell him, after all. He bit back the words. No. He had to know. There was no way around this.

“Rick,” she said and gently caressed his face, as if to ready him. It seemed so incongruous that she was comforting him. “They hit me and connected with my eye. It sustained some kind of bruise, I’m not sure. Then I was kept in the dark for so long my eyesight adjusted with it. The good eye sort of took over. The ophthalmologist told me it was natural for the body to do that, and now I need correction lenses. It hurts sometimes when it’s too bright. Or when I’m tired.”

She said the words in a matter-of-fact voice, using it as a way to cover the emotional aspects behind them, but they tore at him like sharp claws. Someone hit her. Someone hurt and humiliated her. Someone ordered her to be locked in darkness.