His hands hungrily stroked the length of her, loving the feel of her silken skin. He felt her heartbeat against his own as she arched her hips beneath him, urging him to take her.
Since the moment he’d seen her lying in that clinic bed, he’d had a fever for her, and now he gave in to the sickness of wanting her. Even though he knew she didn’t remember making love to him before, someplace inside her the memories must have been held safe for she knew exactly where to touch him, exactly where to kiss him to evoke a desire so hot it burned all rational thought from his head.
BRITTA DIDN’T REMEMBER making love with Ryan before, but her body remembered the touch of his hands, the feel of his skin against her.
His lips moved from her mouth down the slender column of her neck and he captured one of her nipples in his mouth. She tightened her grip on his shoulders as he laved her breast, licking and nipping to bring her pleasure.
“I remember you,” she whispered. “I remember your touch. I remember the beat of your heart against mine.”
For the first time since she’d come to in the depths of the ocean water, heat fired her insides. She closed her eyes as his mouth moved to her other breast and he sucked and nipped teasingly on the taut tip.
She stroked her hands down his back, loving the play of his sinewy muscles beneath her palms. This was where she belonged. She felt it in her soul, in her very heart. She had no idea what he’d been in her life before, but she knew what she felt at this moment and it was like a homecoming in his arms.
He was hard against her and she reached down and encircled him. The moan that escaped him stirred her desire for him even more and the sound of his pleasure sounded a chord of memory in her head.
She stroked him and he reached down and stopped her, his eyes infernos blazing into hers. He moved between her legs and slowly entered her.
She hissed her pleasure as he went deep inside and she raised her long, slender legs to lock around his back, capturing him in an embrace that stole her breath away.
He moved against her, the exquisite sensations tensing every muscle. Her body trembled, but the tremors that shook her had nothing to do with a cold internal chill but rather the flame of desire that burned inside her.
Teasingly slow, he took her, casting aside all the fear the day had brought, all the uncertainty her life contained at the moment.
She gripped his shoulders and reached up to nip at his neck, wanting to taste his skin as he possessed her. She arched beneath him, meeting him thrust for thrust as they quickly spun out of control.
With frenzied intent they moved together, and she felt the rush of the wave sweeping over her, overwhelming her. With a cry she rode the wave, shuddering and crying against him.
He followed her, softly whispering her name as he tensed against her and went over the edge. He collapsed on top of her, and she buried her face in the hollow of his neck, his heartbeat ragged and quick against her own.
She kept her arms wrapped around his back, hoping to keep him with her all night. She wanted to sleep in his arms, feel him spooned against her throughout the night.
She stroked the back of his neck, his skin warm beneath her touch. She sighed, the soft sound of a woman sated. She could tell the moment he was about to get up. All his muscles tensed as he raised up on one elbow and gazed down at her. There was something in his expression that took the warm glow out of her heart.
She smiled tentatively. “I’m definitely warm now.”
“That was foolish of us,” he said, no answering smile on his sober features. “We didn’t even use birth control.” His jaw muscle throbbed.
“I didn’t even think about it,” she confessed. “Maybe that was foolish, but I wouldn’t take it back. I loved making love with you, Ryan.” She ran a hand across his chest. “And if you want to stay here with me for the night I’d gladly make love with you again.”
It was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Although his eyes flared with a hint of heat, he rolled completely off her.
“You want the bathroom first?” he asked.
She nodded, and slid out of bed. With complete unselfconsciousness she got out of the bed and padded naked to the bathroom.
Once inside she stared at her reflection in the mirror. How she wished she had all the memories of the time they’d shared together before. Perhaps those memories would help her better navigate the crazy emotions she felt for him at this moment.
While she desperately wanted to know what had happened to her when she’d arrived here in Raven’s Cliff and mysteriously disappeared, she also wanted to know about the past she’d shared with Ryan. She had a feeling it was far more complicated than what he’d told her.
When she returned to the bedroom, Ryan was on his back staring up at the ceiling. He sat up as she got back into bed. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. He got up and headed for the bedroom door.
“Are you coming back?” she asked. She wanted him to come back and hold her through the night. She wanted him to keep her nightmares at bay with his solid presence next to her. “I’m still cold, Ryan.”
He stopped at the door and turned back to face her, the knot in his jaw pulsing. “Then I’ll get you an extra blanket before I go to bed,” he said, and disappeared out the door.
She turned over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. Damn her lack of memory. He made her crazy. He was opinionated and stubborn. He had a need to control and he often seemed to intentionally pick fights with her.
But there was still something about him that drew her, not just on a physical level, but on an emotional level, as well. Was it possible that she had feelings for him because while they’d been in Boston he’d been her only contact with the outside world? Somehow she didn’t think so.
All she really knew was that making love to him had only confused her more than she’d already been confused. Sooner or later she hoped she’d get back all her memories and would know what it was about Ryan Burton that somehow haunted her soul.
And she’d know what had made her walk into the ocean earlier in the day. She frowned as she thought about that moment when she’d found herself in Ryan’s arms, soaking wet and not knowing how she’d gotten there.
It had been one of the most terrifying things she’d ever experienced. The thought of what might have happened if Ryan hadn’t seen her walking into the water was even more terrifying.
She’d been half teasing when she’d told him she was cold again, but now it was true. A deep chill grabbed hold of her as the thoughts whirled around and around in her head.
She got out of bed and turned out the light, then returned and snuggled deeper into the covers. If Ryan didn’t spend the night next to her, then she hoped he did bring her an extra blanket because all the “what ifs” that were cascading through her mind had her ice-cold once again.
With a sigh she turned on her side and saw a man staring into the window.
Chapter Eleven
Ryan stood beneath a hot shower spray and cursed himself for his weakness, for his utter stupidity. He’d done exactly what he’d sworn he wouldn’t do again. It was unbelievable how easily he’d fallen back into bed with her, despite all his intentions to the contrary.
What’s more, she had no idea how tempted he was to get back under the covers with her and fall asleep with her in his arms. But he refused to compound what had already been a monumental mistake.
The same reasons he’d broken off their relationship seven months ago hadn’t magically gone away. He was still eleven years older than her. They still argued about everything—from politics to what color of blue the sky was on any particular day.
But most important, he was still afraid that he’d be the kind of husband his father had been, and he wouldn’t want to wish that on a woman he hated let alone one that he cared about.
He shut off the water and grabbed the towel on the vanity counter awaiting him. He’d just have to be strong, he thought as he dried off. He’d just have to make sure that it didn
’t happen again.
As he pulled on his jeans, the piercing sound of Britta’s scream came from the bedroom. The sound electrified him and he raced to the bedroom and flipped on the light to see her huddled in the center of the bed, her blue eyes wide with terror.
“A man,” she gasped, and pointed toward the window.
“There was a man looking in.”
“Stay here,” Ryan commanded, and raced back out of the room. He grabbed his gun from the coffee table, flipped off the safety and burst out the front door.
Faint light from a three-quarter moon spilled down as his heartbeat slowed and the cold calculation of a soldier took over.
Was it the man who had abducted Britta, the one who had injected her with strange drugs? Had he seen her and Ryan around town and followed them here? Dammit, they should have never put her out there as bait.
Had the shark arrived?
His gaze swept the immediate area and as a shadow near the side of the house moved he pointed his gun. “Freeze or I’ll blow your brains out,” he said.
“Don’t shoot, Burton. It’s me.” Stepping out of the shadows FBI Agent Michael Kelly appeared.
“Jesus, Kelly,” Ryan said irritably as he lowered his gun.
“You just about got yourself shot.” He drew a deep breath.
“I wasn’t sure this was the right place,” Kelly said.
Ryan motioned him toward the front door. “Come inside.”
Once the two men were back in the house, Ryan pointed the agent toward the kitchen, then went into the bedroom where Britta was still huddled on the bed.
“It’s all right,” he said to her. “You aren’t in any danger, but you might want to get up and get dressed. We have a visitor.” He disappeared once again and closed her bedroom door.
Back in the kitchen he found Kelly seated at the table. Ryan supposed most people would find Kelly a handsome man. Tall and on the thin side, he had dark brown hair and blue eyes. He and Ryan had worked together in the past and Ryan had found the man to be both intelligent and friendly.
“What are you doing here?” Ryan asked as he went directly to the cabinet to prepare a pot of coffee. He had a feeling it was going to be another long night.
“Kimble gave me the go-ahead to come out and see if I can help you.”
“So, what were you doing sneaking around the house?”
“These bungalows all look alike,” he said with an easy smile. “And to be honest, I forgot the address number that Kimble gave me. I was too embarrassed to call him back for it, so I thought if I snooped around a little bit and peeked in a few windows I could find the right place.”
How long had he been at the window peeking in? Ryan studied the other man’s face carefully but saw no signs that Kelly had seen them making love.
Nobody in the Bureau except Kimble had known the extent of Ryan’s previous relationship with Britta. Only Kimble had known that Ryan had been foolish enough to let a professional relationship transform into something personal.
“What’s the news from Boston?”
Kelly leaned back in the chair and stretched his long legs out beneath the table. “The Boston Gentlemen are exploding from the inside out. We can’t get a handle on exactly what’s going on, but with Joey dead they seem to be falling apart.”
“Gee, that breaks my heart,” Ryan said dryly as he set two cups of coffee on the table, then sat in the chair opposite Kelly.
“How’s Britta? Has she remembered anything else about the shoot-out?”
Ryan frowned. “Nothing specific.”
At that moment Britta entered the kitchen. She’d dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink T-shirt that enhanced her blond hair and blue eyes. “Britta, this is Michael Kelly, the FBI agent who was responsible for relocating you here.”
Michael smiled at her. “Hello, Britta. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Mr. Kelly,” she said with a nod as she sat across from him at the table.
“Please, make it Michael,” he replied. “And I’m sorry for frightening you. I wasn’t positive this was the right place so I thought I’d just peek in the window.”
“You definitely made my heart stop for a minute,” Britta admitted.
“Michael has come to town to help us figure out what happened to you.” Ryan got up and pulled a third cup from the cabinet. “He almost got himself shot lurking around like a Peeping Tom.” He poured her a cup of coffee and carried it back to the table and returned to his chair.
Michael grinned. “Thank God you heard me say your name before you pulled the trigger.”
Michael reached out and covered one of Britta’s hands with his. “Now we can’t have people plucking beautiful women off the streets,” he said, his voice laced with a flirtatious edge.
All the muscles in Ryan’s stomach twisted. He wanted to yell at Kelly, to tell him to stop touching her. Britta pulled her hand out from Kelly’s and smiled with a touch of coolness. “We appreciate anything you can do to help,” she said.
For the next fifteen minutes Ryan told him everything that had happened since he’d arrived in Raven’s Cliff. “I didn’t send the gown or the necklace to the lab,” he said. “I knew it would be a low priority to get them tested, and that meant it would be months before I got back any results. We’ve got them in a bag in the bedroom closet.”
“Can I see them?” Kelly asked.
“I’ll get them,” Britta said, and quickly stood from the table.
“She doing okay?” Kelly asked with a frown as she left the room. “She seems kind of distant.”
“We’ve had a rough day,” Ryan replied, and told him about her walking into the ocean that morning.
Britta returned with the bag holding the gown and the necklace. She handed it to Ryan as if she wanted no part of touching the items to remove them from the bag.
He pulled them out and handed the gown to Michael, then laid the necklace on the table. Michael looked at the gown carefully. “Hand stitched,” he said.
“Yeah, we noticed,” Ryan replied.
Michael looked at Britta. “And you were wearing just this when he found you in the lighthouse?”
She nodded. “Just that and the necklace.”
Michael carefully folded the gown and placed it back in the bag, then eyed the necklace with interest. “Regular fishing line. In a small fishing village probably everyone owns some.”
“You’re right. The fishing line is a dead end,” Ryan replied.
“It’s all so strange,” Michael said as he carefully laid the necklace on the gown in the bag.
“This whole town is strange,” Ryan replied. He shot a quick glance at Britta, who was sitting back in her chair and twisting a strand of hair while she looked at Michael.
“What made you decide to send me here?” she asked.
“Well, I certainly didn’t send you here to be kidnapped, dressed in a gown and let loose in an old abandoned lighthouse.” He gave her a charming smile, but his smile fell away when she didn’t appear to respond to it. “I saw an ad in a travel magazine for a housekeeper wanted at the Cliffside Inn. I knew you had hotel training and thought it would be a good fit. I figured it was far enough away from Boston and a small enough town that nobody would think to look here. And as far as we know, nobody from the gang has found you here.”
Britta nodded, as if satisfied with his answer. She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip, her gaze moving from Michael to Ryan. For just a moment a flicker of warmth filled her eyes, as if she were remembering what they’d just shared.
He broke eye contact with her and looked back at Kelly. He didn’t want to think about making love with her. He needed to stay focused and put that behind him. He needed to stay strong to make sure that it would never happen again.
WHEN THE CONVERSATION WENT to other FBI matters, Britta listened absently, her thoughts instead focused on Ryan. She’d seen the true man today, the man behind the facade he presented.
Throughout the afternoon a
s she’d stayed in bed she’d been aware of him checking on her occasionally. Once he’d pulled the blanket up closer around her neck, then he’d made her soup and brought it to her in bed. His gentle care while she’d been traumatized had shown her more about him than any words he could speak.
Making love with him had been beyond amazing. There had been a sweet familiarity that made her feel as if she were home in his arms, as if that’s where she belonged for the rest of her life.
She flushed as she became aware of Michael looking at her expectantly. “I’m sorry, I was distracted.”
“Ryan has told me you didn’t remember anything about your time in Boston just after the shooting.”
“That’s true, although I’ve been getting flashes here and there,” she replied.
“She remembers a little bit about the shooting, but not a lot,” Ryan said.
“It’s slowly coming back to me,” she said. “Every day I have a new little snippet of the past that makes its way into my mind.”
“That’s good,” Michael said, then turned once again to Ryan. “I just wish we could figure out what happened during those four missing days.”
“She’s relatively certain that she was taken by somebody from the gazebo at the inn on the first night she arrived in town, but other than that we haven’t learned anything else,” Ryan replied, his frustration obvious in his voice.
“Maybe I can dig up something that you two haven’t been able to,” Michael said. He paused to take a sip of his coffee, then continued, “I’m staying at the Cliffside Inn. Nice place.”
“Then you’ve met Hazel,” Britta said.
“Oh, yeah. She’s a bit of a kook, isn’t she? Did you know she practices Wicca?”
“No, I didn’t know that, but somehow it doesn’t surprise me,” Ryan replied.
“She tells me she’s doing all kinds of spells and rituals in an effort to rid the town of an evil curse,” Michael said.
Ryan nodded. “The curse of Captain Earl Raven.” For the next few minutes he told Michael what they knew about the tragic history and the curse that had gripped the town on the night that Nicholas Sterling III hadn’t done his duty and fired up the lighthouse.
With the Material Witness in the Safehouse Page 11