Facing Fear (25 page)

“Turn on the light.” In the dark and being tied. This was too close to her nightmares.

He didn’t comply. Instead he started to glide in and out of her in a slow rhythm. “How long did they leave you tied up?”

He tilted her hips, placing a pillow under her, and he was thicker and longer in this position. His rhythm was steady, a slow tortuous dance of entering and withdrawing. It also left his hands free, to do as he pleased. He reached down and parted her, exposing the little bud. She waited for his touch.

“How long?”

“Please…” She wanted him to go faster as she wrapped her legs around him tightly. But his hand wasn’t moving. He was waiting for her answer. “Hours.”

Too late, she realized what he meant to do, where his
questions were leading, and she started to tell him that she was afraid, but could only cry out his name. His finger. It was stroking her, using her wetness ruthlessly to turn her protest into cries of pleasure as she peaked. Up, up. And his long finger skimmed back down. He kept that slow tempo, drawing her climax out, and the ecstasy was so long and so hard, she forgot what she wanted to say.

He slid out of her and parted her legs wide for another invasion. His mouth. His skillful tongue tasting her, pressing hard against her already sensitized nub. The sensual assault was too much. She started to scream his name in the dark.

No, no, she didn’t scream his name. She mustn’t. Not ever. They would torture her some more just to know more about him. No, never scream his name.

She sucked in long breaths, hearing her racing heart, trying to understand her flashback. Felt him moving lower. He tied her parted legs. She was now spread-eagle.

“Like this?”

She understood what was coming next. “Don’t leave me,” she implored, too exhausted to move.

“I’ll never leave you, Nikki. I’ve never left you.” She felt his damp muscular chest against her breasts as he pressed soft kisses on her lips. Caught the musky scent of desire as he entered her again. “You’re mine. Tell me you’re mine.”

She couldn’t deny him anything. Not when he possessed her soul as he took her. Not when she knew he was trying to help her forget. “I’m yours.”

“Say it again,” he ground out.

“I’m yours.”

He came violently, calling her name between clenched teeth, rubbing his scent on her body, pouring into her.

“Mine, mine, mine.” He continued climaxing and then dropped down, breathing harshly.

Nikki closed her eyes, savoring his weight, loving the feel of him still inside her. After a few minutes—an eternity—he slowly shifted, still pushing deeply inside, as he propped up on one elbow. She responded eagerly, gripping his length
possessively, not willing to let him go. How could she still want him so? She heard a drawer open and whimpered an objection as his hardness glided out of her.

“Shhhh.” His fingers found her nub again.

It wasn’t over. There was more. Very, very gently, she felt a slow invasion as his fingers entered and explored. Very, very gently, he stroked, and she shivered in delight as he found a particular spot. A vibration started.

“Oh!” Nikki arched up, but she was tied. “Oh!”

“I’ll make dinner, then I’ll be back,” he whispered in her ear, and his weight left the bed.

Alone. Tied up. In the dark.
She can’t call out his name.

“I’m not leaving you. Think of me coming back for you, darling.”

He tugged something down there. Molten heat exploded into bright flaming stars. A moan escaped her lips as waves of incredible sensation took over her mind. She felt that tugging again. Then he placed a long hard kiss on her clitoris.

“Rick! Rick!” She forgot her fears, called his name. There was only his scent. His memory. And intense pleasure.

T
ruth. That was all Rick ever wanted out of life. It was the kind of sarcastic credo he liked to use in moments of despair. He lived in a gray world and expected truth. How utterly ironic.

He expelled a harsh breath as he slowly closed the bedroom door. He couldn’t afford to be gentle with her any longer. That photo in his laptop was the last straw. He was aware of how unfair it was to expect Nikki to be alone all this time, but damn it, he had the right to the truth. She wouldn’t—or couldn’t—tell him. He
would
make her. Right now, he couldn’t bear to have her gone again. Right now, he couldn’t bear to live another lie.

What right did she have to return into his life just to use him as a tool to find her missing files? It was obvious now that he was a means, and not an end. Someone had sent her back to him and she was a willing accomplice, not because she wanted her husband back, but because she was promised those damn files.

That hurt. It hurt so damn much he couldn’t even focus on those downloaded files he had stolen for her. That photo, with the man and child, embodied everything he had lost,
and she had been living it
. She had a life with that man—it was there clear as day. And the little girl—Rick closed his eyes—she was the biggest betrayal of all.

A soft moan broke through his bitter reverie and he resisted the urge to rush in there, though he couldn’t seem to
leave her alone. He stood out here, listening, making sure she was all right. His lips twisted. Oh, she was definitely all right, because he was an expert in this and he knew her body better than she did. Theirs had been an intensely sexual relationship.
So why couldn’t she remember him?

The man with the light eyes—how well did he
know
her? Rick angrily turned from the room and stood on top of the small landing. His hand clenched, unclenched. He just couldn’t seem to walk away and leave her in there. He was a fool.

She had been all he had.

He stared broodingly down the stairway, torturing himself with what she had been doing for ten years without him. All he could think about was the fact that she had knowledge of him all along. He curled one hand on the banister at the unexpected pain that slashed at him. All that time, when he had no knowledge of her, he had been
looking
for her. A missing loved one was a devastating experience he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Even getting her remains back would have meant something.

He had been ready to give up before Nikki had suddenly appeared; she became a lightning rod to a new life. How wrong he had been. A soft brittle laugh welled up. What did he expect? That suddenly, after a decade, he could simply don a white hat, and everything would morph back to the way it was? She came home for a reason, and it wasn’t for her lost love. He wanted to spit at the word.

What an utter fool, to even harbor any hope that he could turn his life around. He was now another man, doing things he had once abhorred. He grimaced. No matter what, he was still good at one thing—the continual need to expose every layer of those around him until there was nothing but the truth. This one skill had stayed with him.

Hard-On. There was no turning back. He didn’t get that name because he was an easygoing guy. A compliment from the women and an insult from colleagues, it was still his core, what he was under all these layers. A prick had no other agenda other than to satisfy his own needs.

His agenda had always been the truth, and truth had no emotion. He forced all feelings out. Time to go back in there and do what she had set him up to do. Peel her layers. Expose her for what she was. He never had any intention of leaving her in there for hours. The power of suggestion was meant to prolong an emotion, and fear was the key here. This was the trigger-point in psycho-imprintment, a deliberate push at the psyche.

Through the crack, he heard her call out his name and stood frozen, his hand against the door panel, for what seemed like an eternity. Every muscle bunched into knots as a cold tingle went down his spine. He hadn’t heard those purrs in a long, long time. Every nerve in his body lit up, as if someone had thrown on a switch.

Dear God. It was Leah calling him. It was Leah’s deep-throated moans he was hearing. So dearly familiar, and yet—

Enhanced pleasure was like entering a different level of consciousness. There was a point in the throes of passion when a person couldn’t control body and mind, when she became totally focused inside, and it was what was hidden inside Nikki that Rick hoped to release.

And yet—his search for the truth might come up with something he wasn’t prepared to face. He didn’t want Nikki to just remember facts and figures of her past. He wanted her to remember their lives together with the same emotional depth as before. Without it, he couldn’t reach her, couldn’t get her to tell him the truth.

It just wasn’t enough.

The chemistry was still there, so palpable that it left him craving for more. Her body recognized his, and she had even admitted as much, that being with him had awakened powerful, emotional revelations that had shaken her.

Well, he was shaken, too. Having her back in his arms was heaven and hell. She was here, and she wasn’t. She had no memory of how it had been between them. It was strange how one could have one’s wish granted, but it wasn’t quite the same anyhow.

A prolonged session of pleasure. And a miracle. He could
easily provide the former, but he had ceased to believe in the latter happening. He stood there in the dark, in
his darkness
, wondering if truth was really worth the pain sawing through his gut.

“Rick!”

He switched on the light, adjusting it to a soft glow. His nostrils flared at her scent. His pulse raced at the sight of her lying there, the pillow beneath her pushing her hips up provocatively. Part of her face and body were covered by her beautiful hair.

Rick swallowed hard.
My God. She looked like that in his nightmares.
Lowering down onto the bed, he slowly combed the long, thick strands away. His heart thundered. Everything seemed to be in slow motion.

Nikki’s face was radiant, her lips parted, her eyes dreamy and half-closed. She purred at his touch, tossing her head back. He turned off her source of pleasure, loosening the ties, and she stretched like a cat.

“Love me,” she whispered.

Leaning closer, Rick stared down at her. Fascination and dread tugged at him. Every sigh, every low moan, was an echo of his dream. His ghost was alive.

“Love me,” she repeated, moving sinuously against his hand. “You promised to come back and love me.”

“Leah?” he queried in the softest of whispers.

Her eyes opened wide. Tears of frustration shimmered in them. “It’s Nikki.” Reaching up, she dragged his face down and kissed his lips with an ardency that was Leah’s. Even though he didn’t want to, Rick pulled back. He studied her face, searching for clues. She tugged at him. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want me?”

“I do,” he told her softly.

“But you want her more.”

He wanted his wife back, but it wasn’t the time to explain. She was disoriented by what she was remembering, and he needed to push her. Those dark eyes stared up accusingly. Like the beautiful ghost of his past, they held secrets from him.

“She is you, Leah,” he said deliberately.

She shook her head violently, her tangled hair falling heavily over his arm. He looked down, spellbound at the way it imitated those dreams.

Unable to stop himself, he repeated the same words burned into his brain. “Liar.”

But unlike his dream, she didn’t laugh. Her tears flowed freely and she emitted a tiny sob before biting her lip. He clamped down on his traitorous emotions, refusing to give in. “Liar,” he told her softly. He had to push her hot buttons. “And yes, I want Leah more.”

“What about me? Nikki, not her. You lied to me,” she said, still crying. “You told me it didn’t matter.”

It was like reading off a script. He had repeated the same lines over and over whenever he had that nightmare, except that he was now saying it with an entirely different meaning. “You’re the one who lied to me. You betrayed me. Don’t hide anymore.”

Her whole body stiffened and her face mirrored her shock. She closed her eyes for an instant. When they reopened, the sultry expression in them made him shiver.

“Then love me. Now.” She was insistent, hands and feet staking their claim on his body.

This was totally unexpected. She looked like Nikki and demanded like Leah. It was hard to resist a dream that had somehow invaded his reality. He ran an exploring hand down her silky body, half expecting to wake up from this tangled mess. Instead her hand covered his and pushed it between her legs.

She was wet. She arched up wildly, greedily. Just like in the dreams, she wanted sex. Wanted him to take her. His own desire clamored against his will, seeking fulfillment. He never took her in those dreams. He would push her away and she always ended up dead.

She whimpered as he slid his fingers inside her. She was hot, so hot. And she was very, very alive. He could barely think above the roaring in his head as she climaxed, her sensitive channel needing no further coaxing.

“Who are you?” he demanded hoarsely, desperate to end this. This wasn’t part of the dream. He would have woken up by now, with that dead emptiness nestling inside. More than anything, he wanted to thrust into her moist heat, to feel again that rush of happiness, but he ruthlessly forced himself to be still.

But this wasn’t Nikki. This was his Leah, the aggressive minx who knew his body too well. She reached down and grabbed him in urgent demand, her focus only on what she needed at that moment. Then she squeezed tightly, sending him into overdrive.

He jerked away, trying to put on the brakes before he gave in to the rapacious hunger growing like wildfire, but she held on possessively. Her hand was slick from her own heat, and she traveled up and down his length with a knowing rhythm. The rush of pure male desire was almost too painful to bear, and he shuddered in her grasp.

“Please,” she pleaded, as if he wasn’t the one at her mercy at the moment.

He couldn’t resist her, but he hadn’t done this to her to satisfy his own unruly hunger. He was this close to pushing her over, to getting her to tell him the truth. He wanted to laugh out loud. It was that stupid irony thing again. Sure he had her under control, but he damn sure seemed to be lacking it.

“Rick!” she breathed out, her frustration vented out in his name. “Can’t we talk later?”

She sighed in welcome relief when he acquiesced and climbed over her yielding softness. Any thought of control disappeared as she guided him impatiently. Heaven surrounded him in a hot and dark sensual haze, filling that gaping hole in his soul. He groaned at the exquisite feel of her. He didn’t need her to tell him who she was. He knew.
Because he belonged to her
.

Her hands smoothed down his back, urging him to lower his weight onto her. He did so. She wrapped her legs around him, cloaked him with the silky softness of her long hair, murmuring his name over and over.

“Love me, love me.”

With a groan, he did so. Unlike his nightmares, she didn’t laugh at him, and he didn’t call her traitor. She rose up to meet his every plunge, and it was Leah’s voice that urged him on. Just then, she tilted her hips a certain way that took both their breaths away. He stopped, buried deeply, their bodies molded together. Her eyes were closed but she had the expression of a woman discovering nirvana. She dug her heels into his back and swiveled her hips again. He heard his grunt along with her gasp of delight.

Her eyes flung open and fear flickered amid the smoldering heat. “Oh my God, Rick.”

He understood. He had taught her that little trick eons ago, and she had done this out of instinct and
memory.
That was the trigger point setting free both mind and body. Nikki was in the throes of a flashback. Her nails dug into his flesh and she gasped out incoherent words, but it was too late to talk. Dragging her hips higher than the pillow propping her up, he proceeded with the rest of the lesson from long ago. Her climax was long and violent, and Rick closed his eyes as he, too, let go. This was no dream. His ghost had disappeared; his wife was really, really here, and he poured everything—dreams, hopes, doubts, anger—into her.

Later. Later they would talk. And he would check his hands to see whether they were bloody, just to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming.

Who was this woman whispering earthy suggestions to her lover? It had to be a stranger doing this—no, it was
she
—but that wasn’t possible. She didn’t know a man’s pleasure would be enhanced if she did this to him. She didn’t know a thing about ancient
tantric
breathing techniques. This woman wasn’t she, this stranger who was attacking sexual pleasure like it was a magnificent feast.

She was Nikki Taylor, a self-made person who strove for balance and control in her life as a way to banish those dark memories. Not this wild creature that couldn’t get enough of this one man who had the ability to take her where she dared not tread.

Beware the center.

Therein lay the painful truth. Her center, her
chuung
, was lost amid the clanging lies, and her fear was just an excuse not to go further. Every time she came close, a part of her ran away. It was easier to drift along in her new persona.

She came home to seek her
chuung
and found that centered on one man. He was now relentlessly pushing her toward that dreaded point where she always turned back. Familiar fear swamped her, trying to halt what was happening, but she couldn’t stop his persuasive hands and lips. He was taking over her mind and body, demanding a price for the pleasure he promised. The few minutes she’d managed to break free and not give in didn’t last long.

“Traitor, you lied.”

His accusation was unacceptable, and she sought to regain some sort of control but her body was busy betraying her. The stranger in her was some sexual beast, wanting more. No, no, this wasn’t she.