by J. C. Cliff
I can almost smell her strawberry shampoo right now, reminding me of a few days ago when she allowed me to give her a bath. I came so close to kissing her at one point, and it took everything in me to hold back. I’d be a real dick if I took advantage of her in this state. Not to mention, the Blyss is still running rampant through her system, and will continue to flow through her veins for at least another week or so until Grant and I can wean her off.
Damn, I hate more than anything I have to continually lie to her at every turn, but I’ve already tangled myself into a serious web of lies since the hospital, and there’s no going back. I had to do and say whatever it took to get her out of there safely, and make it somewhere else in one piece.
I swore I would never let myself fall in love again, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t barreling down a hill in a go-kart without any brakes. I never thought I’d put my heart on the line again, taking not only a colossal risk with my feelings, but with my life and future as well. Looking back at what I’ve done…I shake my head at myself. I can never go back now. I’ve screwed myself over, all in the name of something akin to love. I’ve set fire to every fucking bridge I’ve ever crossed, and I don’t want to second guess myself about what the hell I’m doing.
I’ve always been able to problem solve and formulate plans strategically and intellectually on the fly, and this is the first time in my life I’m left wondering about my method of actions. I know I’m in too deep to even think about backing out now, and I knew the moment I saw her I wouldn’t be able to get her out of my mind anyway. No matter how hard I tried to dismiss thoughts of her, only minutes would pass before she barreled her way back into my brain.
When I gave her the medallion, I was sweatin’ it out, praying like hell it didn’t spark any memories for her. If it did, I at least had Stryker here to back me up. We’re so far in the woods she wouldn’t have known which way to turn if she did decide to run. Being stuck here, she’d at least have to listen to me. Even if she did run, she wouldn’t be able to get very far, because her medallion is a fake. When I took her medallion at the facility, I had it replicated. A trusted friend of mine reproduced the family heirloom and placed a tracker on the inside. It’s great to know people on the shady side of life, because not only is it a tracker, but within a certain range of distance, I can use it as a listening device, a bug so to speak.
I knew when she acted out on her birthday she would never break for Nick; she’d rather die first. Taking her necklace as a punishment couldn’t have given me a more perfect situation. I wasn’t sure I would ever wind up needing it, but something told me to at least be prepared.
Checking the lock on the last door in the house, I turn around and head toward my bedroom. When I pass Julianna’s bedroom, which is directly across from mine, I notice her door is open and the light is still on. Even though we’ve already said goodnight, she’s like a magnet, always drawing me in with a strong, alluring force. I stop, lean against the doorframe of her room, and cross my arms. I watch her silently as she turns down the bedding. She’s so damn innocent and sweet-natured. One of Stryker’s many dates, who went shopping for Jules and me, did me a service. She’s got a tank top on, and it hugs every one of her curves. I glance farther down and notice the sexiest pink panties that say ‘PINK’ across her ass. I’d laugh at the absurdity of it, but that shit’s a real turn-on. As she climbs into bed and pulls the covers up over her body, she notices me and jerks back with small cry.
“Oh, geez, Travis,” she whispers on an exhale, with the palm of her hand placed securely over her heart. “You startled me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I just wanted to say goodnight one more time.”
She holds her arms out, opening them wide in an invitation, as if I’m a parent coming to tuck in a child for the night. I feel my lips turning up at the corners of my mouth, forming a grin. With her wanting me near, I feel almost giddy at the request. “Well, come give me a goodnight hug and tuck me in,” she says, returning my grin. I give her my best smile as I make my way to her bed, my feet heavy on the hardwood floors as each step sounds out against my steel-toed boots.
The mattress dips as I sit down beside her, my hip touching her thigh. She doesn’t hesitate to take me in her loving arms, and I immediately melt. I can’t seem to get enough of her. Being wrapped up in her feels more than incredible; it’s a piece of heaven. As she snuggles into my chest, she asks in a playful tone, “Do I get a bedtime story tonight?”
My lips quirk. “What’d you have in mind?” I press my lips to her forehead and smell strawberries. God, I love her scent. Stryker gets a gold star for picking out that shampoo.
I pull back to regard her as she contemplates her answer, searching for a story she wants to hear. As she comes up empty-handed, she shrugs and purses her lips.
“Did you take your medicine yet?”
She shakes her head. “No, I was just getting ready to before you scared me.”
I look over at her nightstand to see her glass of water and pills sitting beside her. I scoop them up in my hand and hold them out to her with the glass of water. I feel like such a dick handing her drugs; she has no idea what they are or what they do. She trustingly and unquestionably takes the pills from my hands every night, thinking they’re for her memory loss. I have to tell myself constantly that weaning her off Blyss is much safer than doing it cold-turkey. I’ve tried to keep a safe distance, and not take advantage of her, but it’s very difficult at times for me to have to hold back.
When she’s finished taking her pills, I place the half-empty glass of water back on the nightstand, and as soon as I do, out of nowhere, she catches me off-guard by reaching out to trace her slender finger along my jaw, following the thin line of my scar.
Her soft touch stirs an intense desire and need throughout my body. I tilt my head to the side and observe her. I watch as she shifts her gaze to mine, and I know now what she wants for story time. It’s not going to happen; I’m not going to open up about my past scars, neither mental nor physical. My voice comes out surprisingly rough and low. “Don’t ask, sweetheart.”
She flushes in embarrassment and averts her gaze to her lap; she’s so easy to read. The palm of my hand gently cups her cheek, guiding her back to me as I slowly swipe my thumb over her bottom lip, disengaging it from between her teeth. Her lip is soft and pliant, and I can’t seem to stop caressing it. Shit, what I wouldn’t give for a taste, but I don’t want to overstep my bounds and scare her off.
I change the subject, avoiding any discussion that would lead to my scar. “There’s some dangerous things transpiring around us. I need you to trust me when I say the less you know right now, the better. Stryker and I are trying to get to the bottom of what’s surrounding you, and I would never forgive myself if something were to ever happen to you.”
“But Travis...”
I can’t help it; the temptation is too great, the close proximity to her lips is too overwhelming, and the need to silence her with a kiss overtakes me. It’s always been with action, not words, that seems to silence her, unfailingly leaving her in a drunken stupor every time, so she forgets what it was she had on her mind for discussion. Of course, having the Blyss in her system helps ten-fold in keeping her distracted.
Leaving my hand where it is, I slide it to the side of her face, cupping her cheek as I begin kissing her with tender, sensual kisses. Her lips mold to mine like putty as she responds to me by scantly tasting my lips with her tongue. I growl in response, my heart rate kicking up a notch. I’ve missed this feeling so damn much, and I don’t know if a man’s gut is supposed to clench in a heated moment, but mine does the minute our tongues touch. Even though it’s been a few days, it feels like a lifetime has gone by since we last kissed. I keep the kiss light, teasing her with my tongue as our lips softly caress against each other’s with a restrained passion.
I catch a whiff of her strawberry scent and my dick begins to throb. I pull back a hair’s breadth from ou
r entanglement as I breathe over her lips, and I hear my own voice coming out low and husky. “I will tell you this much. I’ve got real feelings for you, Jules, serious ones. I felt something for you the very second I laid eyes on you.”
I pause and tell myself I have to stop the kiss here, or I’ll most likely wind up doing something she’s not ready for. I pull back, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. I look upon her with adoration and find myself grinning at her. She looks a little dazed, and her blue eyes are swirling with desire. I guess my potent kiss did the job, effectively nixing her curiosity and stopping her from drilling me with twenty questions I couldn’t answer.
“Get some sleep, Jules. I’ll see you in the morning.” Her eyes grow wide, and all she can do is slowly nod her head in vague agreement. I want to burst out laughing over the fact I kissed her stupid, but I hold it back. I think I achieved the desired result in shutting down every working brain cell residing in that curious mind of hers. I turn around quickly as I head for the door, masking my hard-on; seems like she turned on every one of my working body parts south of my brain.
After I get ready for bed, I slip under the covers and try to quell my yearning for her. I would give anything to curl up in bed with her right now, but it would be too soon. It’s already taking every ounce of self-control I have not to walk across the hall, slink into her bed, and make her mine. I blow out a long-winded breath as I lay here in the darkness of the evening. It’s quiet, too quiet for my liking. I try to fall asleep while battling my own thoughts over what first started out as ‘saving’ Jules, turned into me being in denial of my true feelings, because I shut that love shit down long ago.
I’m currently not only fighting my personal demons, but I’m also in a battle against time, needing Jules to fall for me before she regains her memory. It makes me a selfish bastard, but there it is, and the last thing I want to do is for her to feel as if I’m pushing too fast or taking advantage of her, especially for when she regains her memory. I want her to remember I was a gentleman, and maybe my chivalry will count for something. I’d really like for her to make the first move; I want her to want me.
I jolt awake out of a dead sleep as bloodcurdling screams rip through my soul, shrill, high-pitched cries of terror as if the hounds of hell have escaped. My breath catches in my throat as I choke, gasping for air. What the fuck? My brain still hazy from a deep sleep, I desperately try to wake up, shaking off the groggy feeling. My training kicks in, knowing I need to be able to make split-second decisions and be ready to snap a neck in a single heartbeat.
Throwing the covers off me, I scramble out of the bed. It feels like I’m moving in slow motion, as I can’t seem to get my body moving fast enough. I wind up stumbling over my own limbs, and find myself on the floor only to smack my head against the nightstand with a loud thunk. Shit! More ear-piercing screams seep from underneath the crack of my bedroom door, and I quickly clamber to my feet, ignoring the pain. My heart is pounding of out my chest from her jarring cry.
Oh, God, they found us! How the hell did they find us? I pull myself together, grab my gun from the nightstand, and rush across the room. Throwing my door open, I scope out the scene first by standing at the threshold of my room with my weapon pointed, ready for action. Blood curling screams rip through me again, and I point the gun in the direction of the sound. Not knowing what I’m up against, I keep my back to the wall with my finger on the trigger. When I catch sight of Jules, she’s halfway down the hallway with no attacker on her heels, and I freeze at the sight before me.
My adrenaline rush quickly turns to befuddlement as confusion begins to take place front and center. What the hell? I watch as Jules bends over, scuffling back and forth down the hallway like a drunken sailor. She’s spraying an aerosol can of some shit and pointing it at the floor, squealing and screaming with every step she takes. Cocking my head to the side, my brows draw together in confusion, trying to process the scene. What in the hell is her problem?
When Jules gets to the end of the hallway, she turns toward the living room with her feet constantly dancing as if she’s on a bed of hot coals, all while screaming like a wild woman who’s on fire. I follow the trail of spray behind her and stop at the end of the hallway. I’m still scanning the cabin for threats, even now, as my heart still thumps like a bass drum in my chest. I don’t see anything, and as I watch her jump onto the sofa, doing an Indian dance on top of the cushions, I think she’s lost her ever-loving mind. She’s flailing her arms all about, still squawking and screaming.
At the top of my lungs, I shout over her screams, “What the fuck is going on, Jules?” My brain is still trying to clear its sleep-induced cobwebs.
“Travis! Oh, my God! Thank God, you’re here! Get him! Oh, my God!” she wails, with panic stricken eyes as if she’s seen a ghost. Her hair is disheveled and sticking out every which way, while she waves the silver spray can around.
“Jules! Get what?” I shout back. What the hell? Is she sleepwalking?
She squeals again. “There, Travis!” She points her finger to a spot on the living room floor, still dancing a jig on the couch. “There…there’s a big-ass, prehistoric-lookin’ roach over there. What the hell do those things eat, steroids?”
Confused, I enter the living room, and sure enough, the poor sucker lays there barely moving with stiff, uneven twitches. A very hysterical Jules is still chanting and tap dancing on the sofa. She’s afraid of a small-ass palmetto bug?
This whole episode of craziness and confusion is over a damn insect? She looks as if she’s strung out on crack she’s so distraught. I lower my gun, throw my head back, and laugh like I’ve never laughed before. I can do nothing but fall to my knees in a fit of bellowing laughter. My words come out broken up between gasping breaths. “Jules, it’s just a fucking bug!” Women…I’ll never understand this shit.
“Travis! Oh, my God! It’s not funny; get him! It’s something from a sci-fi movie! Get him!” Her panicked squeals just make me laugh all that much harder. Unable to move from the floor, my shoulders shake profusely with riotous laughter. I can’t catch my breath fast enough. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes I’m laughing so hard.
“Stop frickin’ laughing at me, Travis, and get him! It’s freakin’ me out! It’s a Roach-a-saurus!”
Barely mustering a breath, I gesture to her can of hairspray between bouts of laughter. “Oh, I think you got him just fine all by yourself; death by hairspray. What the hell is hairspray gonna do, babe, win him a beauty contest?”
She stops dancing and indignantly places her hands on her hips. “I was trying to stop him from running away and hiding in the house. I wanted to make him stick to the floor so you could get him.” Her lips purse in irritation. “The hairspray was supposed to stop him from moving. This can of hairspray can stop a bird in flight, but it took the whole dang can to slow this beast down.” Her entire body shivers visibly with repulsion.
After wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes, I wave toward the bug. “I think you were doing rather well on your very own search-and-destroy mission, sweetheart.”
Distress begins lacing her voice again. “Travis, would you please quit your cackling and get him! It’s not funny!” she whines the last word in a plea.
“Oh, shit, Jules. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed this hard.” Deep chuckles surface while I shake my head at her. “I think you’re going to need a shit ton of hairspray, especially living out here in the woods.”
“Well, I’m glad you find me so entertaining.” She stomps her foot like a five-year-old, whining again, “Travis …get the bug!” She then pouts, poking her lower lip out.
“All right, baby.” Finally, I concede when I’m able to contain my chortling. I clamber from the floor to my feet and walk into the kitchen, setting my gun down on the kitchen counter. A jovial grin lines my lips as I shake my head at her antics. I’m ready to taunt her some more, but then I hear a sharp intake of breath and wonder what’s wrong. Raising an eyebrow
, I cock my head to the side and look over my shoulder at her. I study the look on her face and wonder why she has suddenly turned serious. She’s quiet, all of her dancing atop the furniture has stopped, and the palm of her hand covers her mouth. I quickly scan the room again and see nothing.
Then I notice her eyes as they blatantly roam over my body from head to toe, reminding me instantly I’m only wearing my boxer briefs. My smile dies on my lips as I return her devouring gaze and become aware of what Jules is wearing herself. She still has on those ‘Pink’ panties, and the thin tank top with no bra. My own breath catches in my throat as I feel all the blood in my body run south.
I swallow hard at the thought of having her, and then clench my jaw, remembering a small technicality. Unfortunately, in her eyes, we’ve only known each other for three days. Should I risk moving too fast and scaring her off? I don’t want to ruin any chances I might have in building a future with her, but I’ve wanted her from the first moment I laid eyes on her.
Clenching my fists, I grow frustrated, not sure where my boundaries lay. God help me, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from her sexy body and feminine curves. As her petite form stands on display, her blonde hair is in total disarray from sleep, but it’s beautiful as it shimmers against the morning light. She’s at the perfect height to nuzzle my head into her full, perky breasts and take one of those nipples into my mouth. Aw, man…her nipples…they’re poking out of her shirt, making a statement through her thin top, begging for my touch. My heart beats at a different tempo now, while my mouth waters at the thought of tasting them.
As I stand here gazing upon her breasts, I notice her chest rising and falling rapidly in a rhythm of excitement. Yes, her breathing has definitely changed from panic to desire. Her magnetic pull has me sauntering over to her slowly as I take in the curve of her hips and her lithe legs. My heart pounds harder in my chest with each step I take. As I stop directly in front of her, I look up, locking my eyes with hers. I see the longing of her desire as she silently begs me to make the first move.