Stranded With My Brother's Best Friend

by J. L. Beck

  He suddenly stood up. Fuck! Maybe she was right…he would get blueballs. Again, he laughed aloud at the last thing she’d said last night. He could picture himself trying to suck himself off. His laughter grew. Damn, what sex and fun he could have with her. With her sass and along with the way she did as he commanded? Fuck, he could spank her for that sassy mouthing off and fuck her at the same damn time and she would revel in it.

  He tried to stop having these thoughts. He needed to remember that SHE needed to remember. He couldn’t just start fucking her and playing with that luscious body the way he wanted to. This could be more dangerous for him in the end.

  How could she be dangerous though? She certainly wasn’t a soldier of fortune type. She had no weapon that he’d seen while climbing that ridge. So, she wasn’t an assassin. However, she could be a tracker. A private dick? He shook his head at each guess. None of them fit on her. Sure, she didn’t know who she was but he could read people. It had been ingrained into him and a natural sense he’d already had even before the service.

  He now turned his head as he heard a noise that didn’t belong. He looked over at the panel on the wall. No flashing red light, so it wasn’t a parameter threat. His fists clenched as he stepped out of the living room and into the kitchen archway.

  There, Miss Sass stood in a large shirt and only a large shirt, her creamy thighs peeking out of the sides. Her back was to him as her long chestnut curls hung down over the shirt.

  Damn. He could just stand here and watch her all fucking day.

  She was whipping up eggs, it looked like and humming to herself.

  It was so domestic, so natural. He felt stunned, as he knew he wanted her to stay this way. Like what if he could keep her? What if she never remembered? Amnesia was 50-50. She may never remember. He brought himself up short. What the fuck was he thinking? Daydreaming was more like it. Wishing she would never remember, so he could have her here for all time? God dammit, what was the matter with him?

  She turned to grab a pan on the other counter. Spotting him, her mouth formed an O and she dropped the bowl to the floor.

  He stared at her reaction.

  “How in the hell do you do that?” she screeched. “Sneak up like some god dammed ninja!” She gazed down at the mess. “Dammit!” Her gaze rose up to spot his amused grin. “Oh, no. You’d better not think this is funny!”

  He kept grinning. Egging her on in fact. He’d found that he so enjoyed this woman’s temper tantrums.

  She looked flustered and blew a curl out of her eyes as she grabbed paper towels then bent over to clean up the mess.

  His smile faded. Her ass cheeks were now peeking out from the shirt. Taunting the fuck out of him. She wore no panties. His gut clenched and his dick sat up on alert. Now the joke was on him.

  She kept fussing as she wiped up the mess. “Sneaking up on a person, just will-nilly then thinking it’s funny…” she kept muttering.

  Noah moved to pick up the bowl. “Okay. I’m sorry?” He set the bowl in the sink. He was just learning she had this temper. And he liked it.

  She sighed. “I was going to make breakfast. Return the favor of all your meals.”

  He raised a brow at her. Like she’d wanted to return the favor by blowing him last night? Oh, he knew that was what she wanted to do after he’d made her come.

  She caught him staring at her. “What?” she asked as she moved to the egg carton on the counter and reached up to a cabinet to get a new bowl.

  There went the shirt again rising, rising. Now her soft cheeks were there at his beck and call. Damn, how he wanted to feel them under his fingers squeezing them, using them to propel her over his cock. He shook his head and turned away to grab a pan and some oil. “I’ll help you.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, a lot of help you are.”

  He chuckled and avoided looking at her, because if he looked—that shirt was sure as fuck coming off and he would—he caught himself again.

  “Okay, so move out of my way,” she ordered.

  He raised a brow at her. “When did you become this rude, sassy thing?”

  She huffed still bent on being angry. “It’s better than cute!”

  He couldn’t help it, he laughed.

  “Okay that did it, Mister!” She took an egg and smashed it onto his bare chest.

  Noah easily saw it coming, could have moved, could have possibly broken her arm to stop her. He did none of that. He had egged her on hadn’t he? He wanted to laugh at the apt pun. Still, he had to admire her. Small thing that she was, bold and temperamental.

  Stepping back, she then seemed to think better of her actions as her expression looked dismayed. “Dammit!” She grabbed another paper towel and stepped up to wipe his chest.

  He now caught the scent of her. And no, it wasn’t of eggs. It was of her. He’d caught it last night when he’d woken up to see her blue gaze above him on the couch. Now she was touching him. One hand on his chest the other wiping off the egg. He looked around at the counters. He wanted to set her up on one of them strip that shirt off her body and do all the things he was tempted to do.

  “This tattoo,” she whispered. “I know this tat. The symbol…it is so familiar.”

  Noah grabbed her hand and tugged her closer. “What?”

  She nodded. “I’ve seen it somewhere before…”

  So here it was. The reason he couldn’t act on his lust. Her memories and this particular one meant danger to him. There had only ever been three other people who wore this tatt. “From where? Who had it?”

  Her face contorted in pain. “H-Harris. Y-your hurting me.”

  He gazed down to see he had her wrist in a tight hold. He let go instantly. He could see his fingerprints there in a blazing red color. “Fuck!” He instantly regretted hurting her. He carefully looked at the marks. They would bruise he felt sure.

  “I don’t know at all where I’ve seen it,” she whispered and shook her hand as if it were numb or something.

  “Do you know what it means?” he asked distractedly as he went to get an icepack for her wrist.

  “To the victor…”

  He whirled around. “…Goes the spoils!”

  Nodding her head, she looked upset. “H-how do I know that? When I don’t even…” Her voice trailed away.

  He grabbed the ice pack from the freezer and stepped over to gently take her arm as he applied the pack to her wrist. “Only four people that I know of have this tat, Ridge,” he spoke softly. “We made it up, designed it. There’s no way you could have seen it. Then to know what it stands for?”

  Biting her lip, she looked nervous.

  He tried to speak softly to her, “This means that…you were after me. Or coming to me.”

  Her gaze rose from his hands on her wrist to his face. “What?”

  He let out a sigh. Tell her now. Not all of it but the part about her. “We never had sex, Ridge. You were climbing up my mountain.”

  Her eyes widened as she gasped. “What? I d-don’t understand.”

  He let go of her wrist. “Two men were right behind you with guns.”

  “WHAT?” she shouted as all the color drained from her face.

  He nodded. “Then an avalanche fell on you.”

  She was breathing rapidly and looking like she would pass out again.

  He grabbed her up. “Easy now. Easy.”

  “Why? Why was I there?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  “B-but why did you…”

  He gazed at her lips wanting to kiss away her distress. Wanting take it all away. “I didn’t know who you were. Why you were here in the first place.”

  “So you lied?” she asked in a small voice.

  “I had to. You don’t understand what is going on here.”

  She pushed at his chest. “I sure as hell don’t!”

  He kept her up against him with very little effort.

  “So why don’t you tell me why? What is the reason you would hide all th
is from me? Letting me think we’d had sex…” She gasped, as it seemed to hit her all over again. “So, my name isn’t Ridge?”

  He shrugged. “No. Most likely not.”

  “Let me go.” Her voice was low and fierce.

  “No. I think not. You are too upset right now.”

  “So, what? You’re gonna keep me hostage?”

  He laughed, though there wasn’t any amusement in it this time. “Where would you go? Down the mountain in eight feet of snow?”

  She was breathing heavily. “Maybe…”

  He shook his head. “You need to stay right here until you remember. I cannot allow you to go even if there wasn’t snow and blizzards. You came here to find me.”

  She seemed to calm suddenly. “Okay then, how do you want to proceed?”

  He studied her face. He knew something had just changed in her. His senses never lied. “Look. Let’s eat. Talk. Rest, okay?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Her brow furrowed. “You mean I’ll talk. Cause I get the idea, you won’t be telling me anything about yourself.” Ridge felt sick. He’d lied to her then tricked her. Now, he seemed to be acting like a captor. God, what had she gotten herself into? She needed to get the hell out of here. Her brain was working overtime with trying to plan how to do it. But she’d better not let anything show. He was too astute. Too knowing in some strange way.

  “I will tell you what I can?” Harris suddenly didn’t sound so sure.

  “What you can?”

  He nodded. “But until I know why you were coming to me, I have to be careful.”

  “Careful?”

  He smirked as he let her go. “You keep repeating whatever I say.”

  “This isn’t funny, Harris!”

  He turned the stove on and placed the pan there.

  Abruptly, another thought occurred to her. “Your name isn’t really Harris, is it?”

  He paused slightly as he poured the eggs into the hot pan and stirred them with a fork. “It is a name I have gone by. So that wasn’t a lie.”

  “Rolling her eyes, she scoffed. “A name you go by? Like what? A nickname?”

  He stirred the eggs and then took a spatula in hand to scrape them off onto a plate. “Are we going to have toast?”

  Blinking her eyes hard, she couldn’t believe how he was acting like nothing was amiss. Like he hadn’t just dropped several bombs just now. She huffed and looked around.

  “It’s in the upper cabinet there, three to your right.”

  She moved over and checked the first cabinet.

  “Three over, Ridge, not one.”

  She was so upset she couldn’t think straight. “And that!” she seethed.

  “What?” he asked as he moved to the fridge.

  “Calling me Ridge.” She got the bread out. Spotting the toaster, she went over to it and stuck the pieces in, slamming the handle down.

  “Easy on the poor toaster, okay? So what should I call you?” he asked as he brought out the silverware.

  She got the butter from the fridge while passing him. “I don’t know…” This thought had never occurred to her to name herself when she didn’t even know her name.

  “See?” he concluded smugly. “You gotta have a name.” He went over to the toaster. “The butter please?”

  She gripped the tub in her hand and stalked over.

  He took it from her then swiped it on each piece of toast. He then set the plates at the bar and took a stool. “Come on and eat.” He picked up his fork.

  Ridge paused then sat down. Her brain was whirling and her panic was on the rise. Men hunting her. This man keeping his true identity from her, lying to her, for reasons he wouldn’t share. She needed to get back to civilization.

  They ate in silence for several minutes.

  Harris hopped up, heading to the fridge, grabbing the milk. He came back and took out glasses from a lower cabinet. He poured the milk. “I happen to like sweet cheeks.”

  With plans forming in her head about what clothes she could wear to traverse the down slope, her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “What?”

  “Sweet cheeks.” He placed the glass of milk in front of her.

  Her eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He grinned and came back around to sit on the stool. Then he made a point of boldly looking down at her ass. “I’ve been watching them all morning. Sweet cheeks.”

  Her face filled with heat. He was talking about her ass? Where did this flirtatious Harris come from?

  “Yes, I have been ogling your ass. I admit it openly.” He took a swig of his milk.

  “O-ogling?”

  He nodded. “I’m going to be as honest as I can, like I promised earlier. You have the hottest ass. I just wanted to grab it and squeeze.”

  She almost choked on her milk.

  “Easy there,” he teased as he patted her back.

  She pushed her plate away. “How can you make jokes right now?”

  He finished his milk. Then set it down. “My buddies used to tell me I do it when I’m nervous.” He shrugged.

  “Your buddies?”

  His expression changed to anger and then he seemed to control whatever caused it and he looked calmer suddenly. “Yeah. So. What name do you want?”

  “Name?”

  He laughed as he patted her bare thigh. “Lucy? Hannah, Anna, Wendy?”

  She scrunched her face up. “Umm, no thanks.”

  He laughed at her expression. “So adorable. That face you’re making.”

  She rolled her eyes at the cutesy comment. What is with this light bantering all the sudden? “I think I’ll stick to Ridge.” He still had his hand on her thigh and it felt like it was going to burn a hole through her skin.

  He squeezed it and looked into her eyes. “It’s where I found you.”

  “What?” Her thoughts were scattered again. Those emerald eyes, that dazzling smile and that hot hand on her leg. Then add a body sculpted like his was… Yeah, that would do it. Put any woman’s brain into a blender and just turn it on. BZZZ. Instant dumb blonde shake.

  “I named you Ridge ‘cause I found you on one.” His hand slid further up her thigh as his deep green eyes never left hers.

  Ridge held her breath as those hot fingers got ever closer to where she wanted them Yes. A little higher.

  Lightly, his fingertips brushed her mound.

  Her air was running out. Higher… deeper. Yes, deeper.

  He removed his hand.

  Ridge’s body nearly deflated like a balloon. Dammit. She shook her head. No. She still needed to be mad at this man, not lusting after just his merest touch. She needed to get away from him, not be so close to him. He’d fooled her. He—

  “Let’s go.” He took the plates and set them in the sink.

  “Go? Go where?”

  Harris chuckled. “To find you something better than that dammed shirt to wear.”

  Leading her to the bedroom, he opened the door.

  Ridge felt nervous suddenly, more nervous than even before when he’d done all that bomb dropping then the spontaneous flirting.

  “Sit,” he said.

  She looked to the bed and sat.

  “So let’s see.” He gazed around. “You know my buddies and I shared this getaway cabin at one time.”

  She raised her brows. He was sharing personal stuff? “Really?”

  He nodded as he opened some dresser drawers, fishing through clothes. “We had it built to our specs. We came here after…work. To relax.”

  “In a fortress?” she asked. “Up on a mountain?”

  “Sure.” He grabbed a stack of clothing. “That’s why there are various sizes of clothing.” He dropped them on the bed.

  Gazing down, she saw a few shirts and some smaller pants. Yes, these would fit her better and she wondered if there were some warmer ones still left in the dresser. She needed layers if she wanted to make it down the mountain. “Oh, yes these might—”

  Suddenly, he mov
ed her up toward the headboard, flat on her back. Gasping, she realized that before she knew it, her hands were tied. “What are you doing?” She stared at the man’s tie around her wrists.

  Harris then tied her feet. “Stopping you.”

  She raised her head, breathless as she yelled, “WHAT?”

  He stared at her. “I’m sorry but you can’t leave.”

  How did he know?

  “I’m good at it,” he answered her silent question. “Reading people, Ridge.” He sighed as he gazed down at her.

  “So, you are taking me hostage!”

  He shrugged. “I do what I have to. It’s the story of my life I’m afraid.”

  “You can’t do this!” She struggled with her bonds.

  “I can and I have. You would die out there. And if not, where would you go? You have no memory of who you are. If someone found you, if you were lucky not to freeze to death, then you would tell them I’m up here.”

  “Oh, my god! You are serious!”

  He reached out and smoothed a hand down her face. “I have no choice. I saw your flight response. You would do it too, as stubborn as you are.”

  His touch was warm, but she refused to be affected by it now. “You asshole! You are a bastard!”

  His lips turned up in a sad smile. “Yes. I am a beautiful bastard.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Noah did feel bad. He surely hadn’t envisioned tying her up just to keep her here. But he knew what she was planning. Now, she doesn’t think I’m so beautiful anymore, does she?

  “My god!” she yelled. “So what now?” I stay tied up day and night?”

  He again shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is…” His voice faded away as he realized he’d just tied up the woman he wanted so badly. “I care about you. It isn’t just self preservation. I didn’t roll down that mountain; dig you out of that snow. Then worry about you for days while you were out cold, just to let you run out into a god dammed blizzard!” His voice rose at the last part.

  Her eyes were wide, as she looked stricken. “God, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t think…”

  “No, you didn’t think. You just feel.” He mentally chastised himself all over again, as he sat back down and ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I don’t normally tie women up.” He paused. “Well, that’s not true. I have but they liked it.” He chuckled. “But until I feel you have come to your senses…”