“Two years?” It couldn’t be…that was way too much of a coincidence. She cleared her throat, frowned. Her family could be a**holes, but they wouldn’t do something like that. Would they? “The accident was two years ago next week. I don’t have any memories before that, I lost seven years…. Shit. I wanted to go into the army, but they told me I’d failed the entrance tests.”
He flinched like he’d been shot, a low growl slipping from his lips so feral, half the males in her pack would be jealous of it. “Seven years? That was more than the term of your service. You’d been in six years, two in the same unit as me when you died....”
She shook her head, the possibility that she and his Saxon were one and the same forcing a horrible suspicion to form about her family. They’d always been insistent that she mate a wolf. “Um…were we...?”
“Lovers?” One of his eyebrows winged up. “Yes. From the day we met. As soon as I saw you, you were like a fire in my veins. I had to make you mine.”
“You did,” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze away from his lips. The awareness between them swelled and deepened. “You must have. Why else would I dream of you? I lost my memory, but my soul didn’t. It tried to tell me about you in my dreams.”
She shifted in his lap, feeling safe and secure for the first time since the crash. He watched her, his attention absolute as she leaned forward to press her lips against his. They were firm, warm, and immobile under hers. Tension hummed through him, his muscles taut as though he held back. As though he couldn’t believe the surreal situation they’d found themselves in. She didn’t blame him, the story straight out of a fairy tale. Or a nightmare. Given the facts and dates, it very much seemed her family outright lied to her. But why?
Brushing his lips one last time, she pulled back. “I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Shit. Perhaps he’d already moved on, if he’d thought his Saxon…she…was dead. Wait. Was tonight about that? Forgetting her? With her? Saxon’s head ached, her wolf rising possessively, wanting to reclaim him as theirs and snarling at the idea he might be searching for a new mate. Even though the woman he’d come to meet was her.
“I don’t even remember your name.”
He opened his eyes. “It’s Barrett. Barrett Simmons.”
“Barrett.” She rolled the name on her tongue, trying it on for size. “That could shorten to Barr. Or B.”
The smile that spread over his lips stole the breath from her lungs. It turned his rather harsh, almost cruel masculine features into something amazing. The smile opened his features, the blue of his eyes startling and direct, while the smile curving his lips managed to be both cheeky and hinting at sensuality. The heat in his eyes kicked her feminine reactions into gear, and shivers raced over her skin, wrapping around her spine to settle into a warm knot in the pit of her stomach.
“You always called me that. B…even bought me a bumblebee soft toy,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “I still have it.”
He didn’t lean forward to kiss her. Instead, he sat back, pulling her with him and toppling her against his broad chest. She squeaked, big mean she-wolf that she was, the sound lost as he kissed her, nowhere near as passive as before. Dominant and forceful, he claimed her lips like he had every right to, demanding her response. She yielded, let him delve within. A groan rolled from the back of his throat and he pulled her closer, thrust deeper to find her tongue with his and duel with it. Teasing her until she whimpered, almost overwhelmed.
The touch of his lips, the stroke of his tongue... all new and at the same time as familiar as her own skin or the wolf that prowled within. She knew him. On an instinctive level, on a cell-deep level, she knew it. All her doubts disappearing, she relaxed into the kiss and started to tease him back, evaded him with quick flicks of her tongue, then a small nip of his lower lip when he growled at her.
She broke away and gasped, receiving a small grin in response. “I thought I was the wolf here.” Her heart lurched. She didn’t remember him, only from the dreams and this new-found physical knowing. What had they shared? What had they talked about and laughed over? She’d missed all that, the loss like a physical blow.
“Don’t think.” Evidently sensing her distress, he altered their position with ease on the couch. Her dress, a simple satin shift, slid over the leather with a soft rasp and he braced above her, tangling their legs. “Just feel.”
Feel. That she could do.
Saxon closed her eyes and gave herself up to the shivers that whispered over her skin and the heat blossoming through her veins. Let the whole situation, her lost memory, the puzzle of their previous connection, fall away to concentrate on him and him alone. He leaned down, his warmth surrounding and covering her, lips mere inches from hers, so close she felt the slight rasp of his stubble against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat and her wolf wallowed in the scents, new and yet so intimately familiar that rolled from his skin, his aftershave, hinting of sandalwood and citrus conjuring up the safety and security she associated with him even in the dream. Which explained her compulsion to buy a bottle of the stuff when she felt low, and the way her heart pounded whenever she scented a human guy wearing it, only to face an unexplainable sense of disappointment when she tracked the wearer down.
Because it hadn’t been him. Hadn’t been Barrett.
He closed the gap, caressing her lips gently with his. Softly. Compared to the feral nature of his previous kiss, the dainty, delicate touch stoked the fire within her like nothing else. With a moan she opened up. Needing more. Needing everything he could give her. She’d been out in the cold too long and only his warmth could bring her back to life.
His breath caught in the back of his throat, then became a deep rumble of approval. One arm wrapped around and under her, crossing her shoulders to cup her nape. Holding her still, he tilted her head back and claimed her lips again, kissing her like his life depended on it, as though he couldn’t get enough of her. A deep, tongue-dueling invasion that turned to hot, open-mouthed kisses, fanning the flames running riot through her body.
More shivers raced over her skin. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. It didn’t matter that he was human, and she a wolf. Didn’t make a difference she could snap him in two easily, he held her in thrall with his kisses. Moving over her, he slid a hard-muscled leg between hers, parting her thighs to settle between them.
She welcomed his weight and rubbed her leg up the outside of his. The heel of her shoe caught in the fabric of his pants. Swearing between kisses, she unhooked it to throw it on the floor. His lips curved in amusement and the mood changed, became playful. She struggled to get rid of the other sandal, each wriggle pushing the hem of her dress higher. The fine fabric of his pants abraded her inner thighs gently, sending a shiver from her scalp down to her toes. Her wolf whimpered, the creature’s need to reclaim their mate a compulsion Saxon couldn’t ignore.
Wouldn’t ignore.
Finally yanking the other sandal free, she dropped it; it joined the other with a thud. Then she tangled her fingers in the front of his shirt. The buttons popped free easily, the tantalizing brushes of his chest on the back of her fingers almost driving her to distraction. She fumbled the third button with a curse and he smiled.
“Tear it off,” he whispered, nudging her nose with his.
Oh, hell yes. Her wolf was so on board with that idea. The most feral growl she’d ever uttered rose from the center of her chest. Dropping the button like a hotcake, she grabbed handfuls of fabric and yanked. Cloth ripped, shattering the silence of the room, punctuated by his deep gasp as acres of masculine skin were exposed for her pleasure. He growled as well, the sound becoming a rumble of approval when she ran her hands over his shoulders. Silky skin over steel muscles. Delightful. Sexy. Everything she’d dared to dream of in her guilty little fantasies about him.
“Don’t stop, baby… I need you to touch me. It’s been so long—” He cut off his own sentence by claiming her lips again, the sheer hunger in his kiss shooting a spear of heat straight through her.
He rolled his hips, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunching. He pressed harder, his c*ck a thick ridge in his pants that rubbed right where she needed him. A moan welled up and her p**sy clenched, aching to be filled. A tremble rocked her, need dampening her panties. She was wet and ready for him. The reserve she’d shown around all other men disappeared as if it had never existed.
“Gotta get you out of those clothes.” He punctuated his words with a trail of kisses across her shoulder. Hooking a finger under the strap of her dress, he slipped it down her shoulder, the rasp of his stubble along her skin dragging another shiver from her hypersensitive body. “Need to see you. Feel you again.”
Her wolf aided and abetted him. Extending a claw, she sliced the other strap then ran it down the side of the dress. The sharp tip caught her skin, but in her need she didn’t care. A little bit of blood was nothing. He was everything.
He stared as the fabric fell away a little to reveal her body beneath. She hadn’t bothered with a bra; only a tiny pair of panties that enhanced more than hid what lay beneath. He sucked in a breath as her curves were revealed. Sudden doubt assailed her. She’d been a soldier, hadn’t she? So she must have been fit, not slightly more…curvy as she was now, that last ten pounds taunting her when it wouldn’t come off. Instinctively, she tried to cover up.
“No!” He snarled, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head with one of his. Leaning back, he flipped the ruined dress aside. His eyes darkened, heat in their blue depths while he gazed his fill.
“I liked how you were before…” Her heart stuttered at his low words, heat beginning to spread across her cheeks. “But this…fuck me. You’re stunning.”
He ran a big, callused hand up her hip and into the curve of her waist. The touch burned and she fought the urge to wriggle. An interplay of emotions skated across his face—need, feral and dark, warring with something else, something she couldn’t define.
His big frame shook with tension. “I wanted to take this slow, but I can’t.” He flicked a glance up, held her gaze with his. His expression was tight, on the verge of tortured. “I dreamed of finding you again. How I’d take you slowly, make sure you knew you were loved. Make sure you knew how much I lov…how much you meant to me. Mean to me.”
He paused, struggled for a second, then regained his composure and smiled. The simple expression stole her breath all over again, but the darkness lurking behind it...she shivered and her p**sy clenched again. Trailing a finger under the thin strap of her panties, he said, “But all I can think about is tearing these off and taking you, hard and fast. Right here.”
Oh Lord, he really would be the death of her. Eyes wide and not able to do a damn thing about it, she nodded. “Then do it.”
Surprise swamped his features, his hand stilling. “Are you sure?”