Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

  Or was it?

  She needed him to know what had happened between them before she could even start to have a hope of asking him for help. Before she could tell him about Daisy and the vital operation the baby needed. And if kissing her—more than kissing her—jolted his memories back into place then why not go along with it, at least for now?

  ‘That’s better,’ she heard Andreas murmur and knew that, in spite of herself, the direction of her thoughts had brought her closer to him, made her body soften against his. And when his hand slid under her chin again, lifting her mouth to his once more, she had no strength to fight him.

  Or, rather, she had no strength to fight herself. This was what she wanted after all. There was no way she could deny it any longer. This was what her awakened senses demanded, what they yearned for. She needed his mouth on hers, needed the hard, intimate pressure, the warm, slick exploration of his tongue. And as his hands began to move over her she knew she needed that too. Everything inside her that had been folded tightly in on itself, closed off, shut away, now seemed to slowly unfurl, like a flower opening to the sun. And in just the same way that the flower instinctively turned towards the greatest, most glorious, most powerful source of heat and light, so without being able to stop herself she swayed towards Andreas, pressing herself against those caressing hands, writhing under the pleasure of his touch.

  Murmurs of delight she couldn’t hold back escaped her lips in the brief moments that he allowed her to breathe and his name was a sigh on her lips, breathed into his mouth so that he swallowed down the sound as he took possession of her lips again.

  ‘You see,’ he murmured, husky and soft, letting that tormenting mouth slide along the line of her jaw so that she lifted her chin to tauten the muscles there, feeling it more intensely as he kissed his way to the most sensitive spot just under her ear. ‘This is right. So right.’

  One of those caressing hands had moved to her neck now, tangling in the soft hair at the base of her skull, twisting, tugging, pulling her head backwards so that he exposed the whole of her neck and the long, fine line down to her shoulder and the valley between her breasts that lay in the deep V-neckline of her dress. Becca’s head swam as she felt the heat of his breath, the soft, tantalising caress of his mouth as it moved down into that warm valley of her cleavage.

  ‘I want you …’

  She felt as well as heard the words. They feathered over her skin, humid as the breath that seemed to slip inside her bra, coil around her nipples, making them tighten into stingingly aroused peaks that yearned for a touch that was harder, more forceful than a whisper of heated air.

  ‘I want you,’ he said again.

  And she wanted him. The need was a heavy pulse between her legs, a throbbing demand from every aching nerve end along her body. Who cared if the sensual memories hidden in Andreas’ numbed brain took him back into the past they had shared? So what if the touch of her lips, the taste of her skin, woke him to a recollection of exactly who she was and what she had been to him? He had to remember some time, it was inevitable. And surely it was better that he remembered sooner rather than later so that the truth was out in the open and they could renegotiate from there?

  But the real truth was that she couldn’t stop herself. And as her body rediscovered the pleasures she had thought she had forgotten she knew that she wanted this. She needed it. She had been dying inside for almost a year for the loss of it.

  This was right, her sensual instincts told her. This was what had always been right between them. In Andreas’ arms she had always felt that she was where she belonged, that she had come home. This was the one thing that had never gone wrong between them; the thing that had still been there at the end when it seemed that everything else had gone, been destroyed by hatred, distrust and cruel rejection.

  Rejection.

  The word was a cold, hard, vicious blade that slashed through the heated delirium inside her head, breaking open her sensual fantasies and making the wild, foolish dreams evaporate, once more letting in the icy winds of reality and self-preservation.

  What was she doing courting that rejection all over again? Could she go through that pain, that loss, that terrible, terrible devastation a second time? It had almost destroyed her the first time and yet here she was risking her heart, her soul, all over again.

  She couldn’t do this just for the pleasure, for the physical satisfaction it would bring. It would destroy her if she did. But Andreas could. He had already done so once and she had no doubt that he could do it again. Whether his memory returned or not, he could take her, use her, take all she had to give and then turn and walk away without a backward look.

  And the dread that brought made her stiffen against his stroking hands.

  ‘Andreas …’ she tried but he wasn’t listening. His mouth was still caressing her skin, his hands moving down over the soft blue skirt of her dress, over her hips, inching the material upwards as they did so.

  ‘Andreas—stop!’

  Driven by rising panic, she twisted away from him sharply, fear giving her strength she didn’t know she possessed. The force of her reaction took her halfway across the room before she came to a halt and was able to face him, eyes wide, her breath coming in raw, uneven gasps.

  She couldn’t really see him, her gaze was blurred and unfocused, and she was grateful for the way that hid the reality of his expression from her.

  ‘No,’ she said breathlessly, struggling for control. ‘No, it isn’t right—it can’t be right! This isn’t going to happen—I won’t let it happen.’

  ‘You won’t let it happen?’

  Andreas’ voice was a cynical drawl and one dark eyebrow lifted in mocking response to her outburst.

  ‘Lady, you are fooling yourself if you expect me to believe that.’

  ‘Of course I expect you to believe it! I—’

  ‘But I don’t. I don’t believe a word that comes from your lovely mouth.’

  ‘You—you don’t?’

  Andreas shook his head in firm response to her shaken question. Her vision had cleared now and she could see his face. Immediately she wished she had the comfort of the protective blur back when she saw his burning eyes fixed on her face in a look of pure scorn.

  ‘You expect me to believe your cowardly little protest when I know the truth?’

  ‘Oh, so you’re a mind-reader now?’

  No—defiance was a bad move. She saw it in his face, in the way that those beautifully shaped lips clamped tightly together over some savage retort that he had hastily caught back.

  ‘I don’t need to read minds,’ he bit out. ‘But I am pretty good at understanding body language. Unfortunately for you. Because your body was speaking the truth—the truth you’re now trying to pretend never happened.’

  ‘I—No—I’m not pretending!’

  ‘You’re either pretending now or you were then—you can’t have it both ways, Becca. So which one is it?’

  Oh, how did she answer that? How did she tell him something that explained her behaviour and yet didn’t give her away completely? The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t let him believe that she had simply been leading him on—that was the course most likely to have Andreas demand that she leave right here and now. And then she would never be able to help Daisy. And saving Daisy’s life was uppermost in her mind right now.

  ‘All right—I’m sorry …’

  She actually held out her hand towards him, as if pleading with him, begging him to take it. But the way that he watched the gesture, regarding it coldly with blank and unresponsive eyes, brought her up sharp. Becca felt as if she might just as well have slammed her hand against a hard brick wall and had to struggle to resist the temptation to snatch it back and cradle it against her as if his wintry response had actually hurt her physically.

  ‘I’m sorry …’ she said again, fighting to find something she could say.

  ‘You said that already,’ Andreas flung back, folding his arms across the broad expa
nse of his chest as his dark head went back, black eyes searing over her in a look of supreme contempt as he looked down his straight slash of a nose at her. ‘Try something else. Sorry for what?’ ‘For—for overreacting.’

  It was the only thing she could think of. The truth—or at least as close to the truth as she dared to go—seemed to be the only way to handle this. In any case, the partial truth was the only thing she trusted herself to be able to say without making it painfully plain that she was actually lying.

  She’d hoped that that would be enough but, from Andreas’ set, unyielding expression, it was far from adequate. If anything those folded arms tightened expressively and his upper lip actually curled in an expression of arrogant scorn.

  She was going to have to try harder to convince him.

  ‘I—I do w-want you.’

  Really, there was no point in denying that. Her response to him had made it only too plain and she would only incense him further if she tried to pretend otherwise. If there was one thing that Andreas hated it was lies. A miserably cold, sneaking shiver went down her spine as she recalled the one time she had tried to keep the truth from him. She hadn’t actually lied but she might as well have done. The fallout had been as bad as if she had.

  ‘Then what are you doing over on the other side of the room while I’m here?’

  ‘Because—because…’

  Desperation brought inspiration and she hurried the words out, needing them to be said so that she could see if they had the effect she hoped for—the effect she prayed they would.

  ‘Because you were right—it isn’t a good idea. It isn’t sensible …’

  Andreas rolled his eyes in an expression of exasperation.

  ‘And we must always be sensible, mustn’t we?’

  ‘Well, you’ve just had a terrible accident.’

  ‘So now you’re back to being my nurse again. I told you I hate a fuss …’

  ‘I’m not making a fuss! I’m trying to be careful—for your sake as much as mine.’

  That caught him unawares, bringing his head up in a rush.

  ‘Me? What do I …?’

  ‘You have amnesia.’

  Becca spoke the words as slowly and as emphatically as she dared. She needed to get this through to him. If she did, then she might have a chance of staying, of working things out. Of waiting until his memory came back. And then she might have a chance of asking him to help Daisy.

  ‘I know I have amnesia,’ Andreas snarled. ‘I can’t forget that I do! Everything else I try to remember and I can’t. The fact that I can’t remember …’

  He slammed the heel of his palm into his forehead with a brutal thumping sound that made her flinch inside.

  ‘That’s what I can’t forget.’

  ‘Oh, don’t—please don’t. Can’t you see that this is why it has to be this way—because you can’t take the risk?’

  ‘You mean you can’t—’

  ‘No—you!’

  Shaking her head violently, Becca took a single involuntary step towards him, then the look in his eyes, the dangerous way they flashed made her reconsider hastily. Abruptly she came to a halt again, only metres away from him, but the expanse of polished wooden floor now seemed like a wide, gaping chasm, one she knew they could never really ever bridge.

  ‘You’re the one who has the most to lose here if we—if we …’

  ‘Lose?’

  His harsh crack of laughter had no humour in it.

  ‘From where I’m standing, I get what I want. The only thing that’s interested me—excited me—since I woke up from that damn coma.’

  ‘The only…’ Becca whispered, unable to believe what she had heard. ‘Me?’

  ‘You,’ Andreas confirmed roughly, with a brusque inclination of his head. ‘Who did you think I meant? I was talking about excitement and pleasure—passion—something that makes life seem like it’s worth living after all and not just the huge empty space where my mind—my memories—used to be. And you—you say we have to be sensible.’

  He spat the word out as if it was a vile epithet.

  Twice Becca opened her mouth, trying to find an answer for him, and both times her voice failed her, managing only a pathetic squeak that didn’t even form a syllable, never mind a whole word.

  Go to him, the irrational, emotional part of her brain was screaming. Go to him and accept what he’s offering—while he’s offering it. You want that excitement—you need that passion—you could enjoy—oh, dear God, more than enjoy—that pleasure. What are you doing, standing here when…?

  ‘But we do.’

  Becca couldn’t believe she’d actually said what she had. Until she’d actually heard the words spoken out loud she had no idea that she had even planned to say them. She certainly hadn’t thought about them rationally. She didn’t even want to say them. But she had to. There was no other way to handle this.

  ‘We do have to be sensible. At least you do.’

  ‘Don’t hide behind excuses. For some reason you won’t admit, you’re scared and you’re trying to run …’

  ‘Oh, no. No, I’m not.’

  At least this time her voice had the conviction of truth. She couldn’t run away. If she did she would let Macy and Daisy down. She saw Andreas’ proud head go back, his eyes narrowing assessingly.

  ‘You don’t know what might have happened in your life—what you might … might find out when your memory comes back. Things that could change the way you feel about everything.’

  ‘About you?’

  Andreas’ tone was sceptical.

  ‘I doubt very much that anything could change the way I’m feeling—the hunger that’s eating me up inside.’

  It was purely a physical hunger—a sexual hunger—that he was talking about, Becca reminded herself miserably. There was nothing emotional about it at all. And he probably spoke the truth. Nothing had ever lessened the savage desire he had always had for her. Even when he had hated her most, he had still wanted her. The first and last thing he had done in their short-lived marriage had been to take her to bed.

  But she knew just how much things would change if—when—he knew the truth about the way their relationship had ended. And she couldn’t bear to think of what might happen then.

  ‘Then—then what harm can it do to wait? You know what they say about anticipation adding to the pleasure…’

  ‘On that point, you might be right.’ ‘You know I am.’

  She didn’t know quite how she’d done it, but somehow she’d managed to put a flirtatious note into her voice. And as she saw Andreas’ expression change, the dark tension easing from his face, his eyes, she didn’t know whether to feel relief or a terrible sense of fear at the thought of what she was building up for herself in the future. She might be able to persuade him now, to make him ease up, relax a little. But when his memory returned and he found out the truth, then…

  Her blood turned cold at just the thought.

  But she had no other possible route she could take. If she was to help Daisy at all, she had to do it this way. It was either that or leave the tiny girl to die. And that wasn’t going to happen, not if she could possibly do anything to stop it. She would do whatever she had to do now, and take the consequences later when, inevitably, it all blew up in her face.

  She was forced to acknowledge to herself that the thing she both most feared and most hoped for was all tangled up so that she couldn’t possibly extricate one part of it from the other. Before she could ask for his help, Andreas needed to regain his memory and so she had to stay here until that happened. But when he did get his memory back he would also remember who she was and the way they had parted and then all hell would break loose.

  And the real problem was that she was having to fight herself as well as Andreas. The truth was that she wanted to be in his arms as much as he wanted her there. She wanted his kisses, his touch…

  Whatever else had died between them, the burning passion had not. It had brought them together, r
ushed them into bed, into marriage, and it was still there. It still blazed white-hot between them. Andreas had only to touch her and she went up in flames. But it hadn’t been enough to hold them together before—and it wouldn’t be enough now. Andreas might give her body the most glorious pleasure she had ever known but he had also broken her heart and sexual ecstasy was not enough to compensate for the pain and desolation that had followed. Andreas had been the love of her life and with every day—every hour—she spent with him she risked subjecting herself to that heartbreak all over again. ‘All right.’

  It was the last thing she expected Andreas to say so she actually felt her jaw drop a little when he spoke, her eyes blinking sharply in shock.

  ‘All right?’ she managed and got an unsmiling nod in response.

  ‘We’ll wait—a while. You could be right and the delay—the anticipation—will whet my appetite. I reckon you’ll be worth waiting for.’

  If he expected an answer to that, then he was going to be disappointed, Becca admitted to herself. There wasn’t a single word she could find in her head, or form on her tongue. All she could manage was an incoherent little sound that might or might not have been agreement.

  ‘But I won’t wait for ever. I’m not a patient man, Becca. When I see something I want—I go for it.’

  ‘I—understand.’

  How could she not understand? She knew exactly what he meant; exactly how he was. Hadn’t she been on the receiving end of all his forceful charm, his potent sexuality, once before? When Andreas Petrakos saw something he wanted he got it—no question.

  And as if to prove it, to verify her thoughts, Andreas suddenly lifted a hand and crooked one finger in the most arrogant, supremely confident gesture, beckoning her to come to him. And from the look on his face he had no doubt that she would obey.

  He was right. She could explain to herself, justify her actions, by saying that she was playing it safe, treading carefully. But if she did she would be lying to herself, stark honesty forced her to admit. She obeyed Andreas’ autocratic summons, moving across the floor to him without a word or hesitation simply because she had no choice. She had to go to him; she didn’t have the strength to resist. And as his arms came round her again she knew she was lost, lifting her face for his kiss even before he had bent his dark head towards hers.