The Missing

by Shiloh Walker

  Closing her eyes, she tried not to let his nearness affect her. It was like swimming upstream—up a stream that had long since flooded its bank—and although she was strong, the current was pulling her along, and she had no choice but to go with it and hope she didn’t go under in the process. He was pulling her under, pulling her in, and she was powerless to resist. Against her back, she felt the heat and strength of his body, the slow, steady cadence of his heart, and his breath drifted over her naked shoulders like a caress. When she’d left the house earlier, she’d pulled on a plain black tank suit, and the thin material did nothing to camouflage the effect he had on her. Although he hadn’t done anything more than cover the bullet scar with his hand, her nipples were stiff peaks, stabbing into the thin material of her swimsuit.

  “You were shot,” he murmured, as though he was unaware of the effect he had on her. “Because of what you are, what you do. What I forced you into.”

  Taige tugged against the arm he’d wrapped around her belly, but he wouldn’t let her go. “You didn’t force me into this, Cullen. It was my choice.”

  “And what I said to you, what I accused you of, had nothing to do with that choice?” He rested his hands on her hips, stroking absently. He didn’t even seem to realize he was touching her, and that was just another little torture, because she was so damned aware of him, she could hardly follow the conversation.

  “So what if it did?” Taige stiffened her body and tried again to pull away. This time, he let her go, and she got a good five feet between them before she turned to look at him. “You gave me a kick in the ass, a much-needed kick.”

  “You didn’t need to be forced into a life where you’re constantly risking your neck, your safety—your sanity. You live in hell, doing what you do.”

  Bitterly, Taige thought, I’ve lived in hell all my life. It’s pretty much about all I know.

  But that wasn’t entirely true. The few years she’d had with him hadn’t been hell. Not until she failed him.

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as she turned to stare out at the rolling blue green waters of the Gulf. The water was rougher than usual today, and the waves crashed into the sand. Turning her head, Taige stared back over the beach where they had walked. Already, the waves had washed away their footprints. It was like they had never walked there. If only something could come and wipe away her memories that easily. Memories of Cullen, memories of the people she’d failed to save—including his mom.

  “I’m not in hell, Cullen,” she said quietly. Granted, there were times when she would agree with him, times when she was certain she did indeed live in hell. But then there were times like when she had looked through the curtain in the hospital and seen Jillian’s sleeping face. She hadn’t dreamed of the girl once in the month since she had left Cullen in the hospital with his daughter.

  Looking back at what she’d done with her life, she knew it was worth it. It would have been worth the heartbreak, the rage, and the tears if she saved even one life. Instead, she’d gotten to see dozens of kids safely home to their parents. Kids she had pulled out of their own hell. Whatever hell she had to live in, it was worth it for that.

  “If you could give it up, would you?”

  Startled, she looked back at Cullen. All the distance she had put between them just moments ago was gone, and he stood so close, she could see blue and green striations in his eyes. She could smell the warm, musky scent of his skin, and she could almost feel his mouth on hers.

  His lips moved, and Taige had to bite back a moan as she fought the urge to cover that mouth with hers. “Would you?” he asked persistently.

  Dazed, she tried to remember what he’d asked. Would she give it up? “Give up the ability to see things?” She averted her eyes. She couldn’t think when she looked at him. “No. No, I wouldn’t give it up.”

  Self-preservation kept her from looking at him, but it also left her unprepared for his touch when he reached out, curved a hand over her neck. He drew her close. The feel of his hand on her flesh weakened her to the point that she couldn’t resist—that she didn’t want to. “Always so strong, aren’t you, Taige?” he murmured, his thumb rubbing back and forth over her neck.

  No. She didn’t feel strong at all, staring in his blue green eyes and wishing he was actually here with her, not in some dream, even if they were both sharing the dreams, and that was something she still didn’t want to think about. “It doesn’t have anything to do with being strong, Cullen. It just has to do with being me. I can’t change what I am any more than you can change who you are.”

  “Hmmm.” His gaze dropped down, lingering on her mouth. “I don’t know that I’d want to change you.” His thumb stroked over her lower lip, and she felt an answering throb deep inside. “But I’d do damn near anything to change how much you’ve been hurt. From me, from this job of yours, from life.”

  Turning her head aside, Taige said in a flat, unhappy voice, “Life hurts, Cullen. That’s just a fact. Nobody can change it.”

  “But it shouldn’t hurt,” he whispered. His hand moved to her chin, bringing her face around so that their eyes met. “It’s going to, but there ought to be just as much pleasure as pain. How long has it been since you felt the pleasure of life, Taige?” He didn’t wait for an answer.

  Instead, he kissed her. With his free hand pressed to her back, he pulled her up against him. She groaned into his mouth, and in response, he growled rough in his chest. The tension in the air seemed to heighten. Taige could sense the wild hunger inside him. It echoed her own, and she braced herself instinctively, but Cullen kept his kiss soft, seductively slow. He lifted his head just a fraction. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth, could still smell him, still taste him as she licked her lips. “I want to show you some pleasure, Taige.”

  The word no seemed to freeze inside her throat. She wanted to say it. It was circling inside her head, but when she tried to force it out, she couldn’t. Her body was rebelling against her, willing to go along with whatever Cullen might want. As he slid his hands under the straps of her swimsuit, she stood motionless and let him strip it away. When he sank to his knees in front of her, she looped her arms around his neck and cuddled him close as he kissed her belly. “I miss the taste of you,” he said on a sigh. “I should have kissed you, really kissed you, before you walked away from me.”

  He shot her a dark look and added, “But I’m coming back, Taige, and when I do, we’re making up for some lost time.”

  That arrogant, confident tone grated against her pride, and she wanted to sneer at him. Instead, she found herself sinking down so that she straddled his hips. She wanted to laugh at him, wanted to do something to hurt him like he’d hurt her. Knowing that he shared these dreams made her want to do that very badly: inflict some measure of hurt on him. But instead of doing that, she found herself leaning into him and kissing him, watching him from under her lashes.

  He cupped her butt in his hands, and the feel of his rough, callused palms on her flesh was a sweet sensation. Almost as sweet as the one of his bare chest pressed against hers when Cullen finally pulled his shirt off and pressed their torsos together. “If you make love on the beach in a dream,” he murmured as he rolled forward and urged her to her back in the hot sand. “Will the sand bother you?”

  Taige laid a hand against his cheek. “Cullen, just touch me. I need that. I don’t need talking or apologies or jokes.”

  Turning his head into her palm, he kissed her. She felt the rough growth of stubble under her palm as he asked, “And if I need it? I need to see you smile at me again. I need to hear you laugh. You never laugh enough.”

  Staring into his eyes, she slid her hands down his chest and freed the button of his jeans, dragged down his zipper. Then she slid her hand inside his pants and closed her fingers around his swollen flesh, dragging them up, then down—just once. “I need you inside me. I don’t need to laugh.”

  She stroked him again, and Cullen groaned, reaching down an
d gently tugging her hand away before pushing to his knees so he could shove his jeans and underwear out of the way. He came into her, hard and full, stretching her. For a minute, Taige almost felt complete. But this, even if he shared the dream with her, wasn’t real, and nothing but the love he’d taken from her was going to make her whole again.

  Tears burned her eyes while she stared up at him. “Don’t cry,” Cullen muttered, dipping his head so he could press a kiss to one eye then the other. He shoved back onto his knees and slid his hands down her thighs, over her calves, until he could grasp her ankles. He pushed her legs wide, draping her knees over his shoulders as he leaned against her. “Please don’t cry.”

  He kissed her tears away and rocked slowly against her, raining soft, gentle kisses on her face and murmuring to her. His voice was gentle, the words the romantic, heart-stopping things that a woman loved to hear as a man made love to her.

  “You’re so beautiful.

  “I love you so much.

  “Kiss me . . . damn it, I’ve missed you . . .”

  It seemed like each word was a knife in her heart, and there was a part of her that was filled with hate. Directed at herself for being so weak, directed at him for the power he had over her. But the other part, the much larger part, was melting. Melting under the warmth of his hands on her, the sweet, seductive way he kept whispering in her ear. Rough fingers trailed gently up along the line of her thigh, and he shifted his weight, sliding his hand between them.

  When he circled his roughened fingers around her clit, it felt like he’d somehow changed her blood to liquid lightning. It exploded through her, and she screamed. Instinctively, she tried to move against him, but the way he held her—her knees hooked over his shoulders, one big hand palming her ass and holding her tight against him, and his upper body crushing hers into the sand—she couldn’t move. “Come for me, Taige,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper in her ear.

  She had no choice, not when Cullen continued to stroke her like that, not when he continued to shaft her with slow, surging strokes that took his cock deep inside her body. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, as the climax slammed into her with the force of a category-five hurricane. Her vision went dark, and the roar of her blood pounding in her ears all but drowned out the sound of Cullen shouting her name.

  Inside, she felt the rhythmic jerking of his cock and then the hot wash of his semen as he came. His back arched as he pressed deep, and for a moment, he remained just like that, unmoving, the power of the moment holding them both suspended.

  Time slowed down, the moment crystallized, and for a few brief seconds, she felt happy. Almost at peace.

  But then thought intruded, memory returned, and she wasn’t making love with him on a beach, she was only dreaming about it, and when she woke, she’d be alone again.

  Alone.

  Slowly, he guided her legs down, and then he collapsed against her with his head resting on her belly.

  Taige felt her heart slamming away inside her chest, felt the heaving of Cullen’s chest as he struggled to breathe. He pushed up onto his elbow after a few minutes passed, and the sight of that smile on his face ate at her. Cullen was too damn beautiful for words, and that sleepy, sated smile reminded her of a time when she’d actually believed in his love for her. Believed in the promise of it.

  “Let me up,” she whispered softly, pushing at his shoulders.

  “Taige—”

  I’m not going to cry over him again, she told herself. Jerking her gaze upward, she stared at the flawless blue sky overhead. “I’m waking up now,” she said.

  “Damn it, Taige—”

  Deliberately, she closed her eyes. Digging deep, she found the iron will that got her through life no matter how hard it got, no matter how much it sucked. She hadn’t ever had much control of the dreams with Cullen. But she’d control them now. Knowing that he shared those dreams gave her a strength born of desperation, and she forced herself into wakefulness.

  Her eyes opened, and she automatically squinted against the blinding glare of the sun, but the sun no longer shone overhead. It was late. She didn’t have a watch on, but she pegged the time at close to eleven, maybe a little later.

  Which meant that she had probably been asleep a good four hours. She’d come out to the small private strip of beach around six, and she’d swum for a little while before flopping onto the towel to relax and read.

  The vestiges of the dreams were falling away, but she could still feel the warmth of his hands on her body, the silken brush of his lips across her face and shoulders, and deep inside, slow, rhythmic pulses continued to ripple through her, aftershocks from the climax Cullen had given her in her dreams.

  She blushed furiously, recalling how many times she’d come into wakefulness just like this, her body sated and the bed beside her empty. Or the sand. If he was actually with her, these dreams wouldn’t be the torture they were. But he wasn’t with her. Knowing that he’d shared all those dreams had her squirming with embarrassment.

  Although Taige never really relaxed, in her dreams, she’d let her guard down with him a little. He always wore her down, and she’d figured since it was just some dream-Cullen and not the man, it wouldn’t hurt. But knowing that he actually shared those dreams, that it was him and not her lonely mind working overtime, she almost feared going to sleep.

  With a groan, she sat up and went to bury her face in her hands. It hurt, though, and she jerked her hands away and looked down at herself. It was too dark to see, but she suspected when she looked in the mirror, her caramel-colored skin would have a rosy hint to it. Too rosy.

  “That’s what you get, falling asleep on the beach in July,” she muttered. “And ain’t this just perfect?” Gingerly, she touched her skin.

  It felt damn hot. It had been a while since she’d had a sunburn. Her skin wouldn’t burn as easily as some people’s did, but she could still burn, and oddly enough, it was a small relief. Her skin pulled uncomfortably as she gathered up her towel and bag. It was going to keep her from resting too well for one night, so that was one night where she wouldn’t have to worry about Cullen showing his face in her dreams.

  It was a sad thing when a woman couldn’t even count on her dreams for escape.

  THE moment Taige had looked into his eyes and said softly, “I’m waking up now,” the dream had fallen to pieces around him, and now he lay on the couch, the TV still on and in the middle of a Law & Order marathon. It was late, pushing midnight, and the last thing he remembered was flopping onto the couch a little after eight when he’d put Jillian to bed.

  It was early for her to go to sleep, but ever since he’d brought her home, she hadn’t been able to go to sleep without a light on, and she’d seemed to sleep better when he was still moving around, and the house wasn’t terribly quiet.

  His blood was still hot. Hell, he was hot, but it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. It was cool in the house. Both he and Jillian were hot-natured, and he kept the air-conditioning running cool. But his entire body was sweating, and it seemed as though his skin was warm from the sun. And from Taige—damn, it was like he could still feel the warm, wet caress of her sex as he rode her. Still hear those soft, sexy little moans as she climaxed.

  Still see the pain in her eyes. He’d smiled up at her, half forgetting the twelve years of distance that he had put between them until he met her gaze and watched as gray ice formed in her eyes. I’m waking up now.

  And then she was just gone, and less than a heartbeat later, he was waking up.

  Cullen rolled to a sitting position and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He stared at the polished hardwood floors under his bare feet and brooded. There was no way he was going to sleep for a while. Taige wouldn’t be asleep either. He gave the phone a considering glance and wondered what she would do if he called.

  “Probably hang up on me,” he muttered.

  One thing was certain, he had a damn hard road
ahead of him. But even that knowledge wasn’t enough to deter him. He’d had twelve years without Taige, and those few hours they’d spent together as she led him to Jillian had convinced him of one sure and certain fact: he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life without her.