UNFORGETTABLE

by Rhonda Nelson

  She hesitated. "Are you certain?"

  He nodded fervently. "Yes."

  She finally shrugged, then lowered the weapon and tucked it away. "I trust your judgment, Nash. But if you're wrong, it's your ass on the line when it comes time to answer to Larson."

  His shoulders slumped with relief. "I wouldn't have it any other way. But I'm not wrong."

  "George, if I've wrongly accused you, then I am sorry," she told him, suitably contrite. Then she pinned him with a steely gaze. "However, if I find out that I'm right, and you are responsible, make no mistake, I will follow you to the ends of the earth if that's what it takes to hold you accountable."

  Curiously, George looked more amused now than angry, when only seconds ago, his livid countenance would have frightened little children. "I would expect nothing less, Ms. Wilder."

  Bewildered by his abrupt change in attitude, Zoe nodded. "Good."

  Nash passed a hand over his face. "Come on. I think we should go to bed." He nudged Zoe toward the door.

  "Not so fast, buster," George said. A crafty gleam shone in his twinkling gaze. He nodded toward the floor. "I'm not cleanin' up this mess."

  * * *

  11

  « ^ »

  He didn't know how much more he could take, Lex thought tiredly. His nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and though he rarely took medication, he was seriously considering calling and asking Doc for a Xanax. A big one, too, the size of a freakin' horse pill.

  When Faith had burst into his room like Suzy Homemaker meets Charlie's Angels, brandishing a gun and claiming to have found the thief, Lex had felt as if he'd stepped into an alternate reality.

  And he had—hers.

  Then, when he'd realized that she'd put George between the crosshairs, the bottom had dropped out of his stomach and his entire body had turned to lead.

  George had been right. How much longer could this go on? When would her memory come back? And what would happen if it didn't?

  Lex decided to go to the only other person who might have these concerns. He took the stairs two at a time, then found Trudy's door and knocked softly.

  "Who is it?" she whispered.

  "It's me. Open the door."

  She flipped the lock, opened up, and he quickly ducked inside before anyone saw him. The last thing Zoe needed to think was that Nash was having an affair. He snorted, and realized that was really the least of his worries.

  "What's wrong?"

  Lex explained recent events, but rather than being suitably appalled—the appropriate response, considering Faith had almost shot his uncle, dammit—Trudy had the nerve to giggle.

  His eyes widened in outrage. "I don't think—"

  "I don't suppose now would be the right time to tell you that the gun's not real."

  Astounded, Lex blinked. He gaped at her. "What?"

  "It's not real. She picked it up at a spy shop before we left Nashville." Trudy's eyes glittered with mirth. "To my knowledge, she's never even held a weapon, m-much less learned how to f-fire one." Trudy attempted to smother a giggle with her fist, but failed miserably.

  While it was comforting to know that the gun wasn't real, he would have probably found it considerably more comforting if he'd known it before she'd aimed it at his poor unsuspecting uncle.

  Lex nonetheless felt a smile tease his lips. Now that it was over, he could see the humor in the situation. Faith bursting into the room confident that she'd caught her thief, his uncle squealing like a stuck pig and the coffee beans flying through the air. It was memorable, if nothing else.

  "Look," Lex said, coming back to the point of his visit. "What happens tomorrow? What happens if she hasn't gotten her memory back before the book signing?"

  Trudy winced regretfully. "We'll have to invent an emergency and leave." She shrugged. "That's all I know to do."

  Lex nodded. He figured as much, but hearing the decision from Trudy made a hollow sensation expand in his chest.

  She'd be gone, most likely forever.

  "Are you all right?" Trudy asked.

  "Yeah," Lex said distractedly. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd better get back downstairs. She'll miss me."

  "That she will," Trudy replied, yet the innocuous comment seemed to hold some sort of double meaning, one that he didn't readily perceive.

  That hollow ache in his chest spread like a cancer and, by the time he reached his bedroom door, he felt utterly empty—numb—inside. The idea of her leaving chilled him to his very toes.

  Lex let himself into their room … and the chilled sensation abruptly fled.

  Faith stood when he entered the room, then lazily shrugged out of her gown and let the red fabric puddle to the floor in a silky hiss. Backlit by only the bedside lamp, her bare skin gleamed a creamy gold, and a halo of butterscotch curls framed her face and spilled over her shoulders, fell just short of her proud, upturned breasts. His gaze skimmed over her slim belly, that barely there waist, and every bit of moisture evaporated from his mouth as he took in the small nest of golden curls between her thighs. Snakes of heat writhed in his belly and his dick strained toward her like a divining rod.

  "No interruptions tonight," she told him. "Take off your clothes."

  God, yes, Lex thought. Who needed a nerve pill when an orgasm was imminent? He couldn't think of a better stress reliever.

  He pushed every uncertainty, every worry, every care to the back of his brain. He'd deal with the whole sordid mess tomorrow.

  Tonight, though she didn't know it, she was his.

  No more lies, Lex reminded himself as he slipped the buttons from their closures. From this moment on, every fraction of every second was the truth.

  Zoe watched a series of emotions pass across Nash's face, and couldn't have named a single one save the last.

  The last she recognized all too well, and the knowledge sent a triumphant thrill coursing through her because it was a heady mix of determination and desire. His ice-blue eyes bored into her, emanating heat like a blue flame, and that unwavering gaze kept her rooted to the floor, mesmerized by the intensity of attraction she saw there.

  He systematically unbuttoned his shirt, then shrugged out of it and let it drop unheeded to the floor. Then he turned and locked the door. The click resonated like a single gunshot in the silence of the room. Zoe swallowed as a thick, sluggish heat wound through her limbs. Her lids drooped as need, more desperate than she could have ever imagined, pooled in her belly.

  He casually unsnapped the button on his jeans, but didn't bother unzipping them—something she found thrillingly sexy—then stalked toward her. Heat radiated from his body, drew her like a moth to a flame. Then, in a gesture at once sweet and provocative, he gently framed her face and lowered his mouth to hers. A hum of relief and pleasure eased past her lips and she sank against him.

  The kiss began slow, reverent, but quickly morphed into a seductive onslaught that made every cell in her body simmer with want. Warmth pooled between her thighs, slickened her folds. A current of electricity crackled down her spine and settled in her sex, tripping a breaker in her brain that shut down all cognitive synapses. Which was just as well because she didn't want to think—instinctively knew analyzing would be her enemy.

  Sensation, heat, need obliterated everything else, and for the first time in her life—and she knew this with a certainty that defied all logic—she felt womanly and wanted … uninhibited.

  She slid her hands over his magnificent chest, warm and smooth as polished marble, eliciting a shiver from his heavily muscled frame that gave her a thrill of feminine power. Addictive, that, Zoe thought, and instantly craved more.

  "God, you're so beautiful," Nash murmured against her neck. Gooseflesh pebbled her skin. He breathed deeply, as though savoring her scent. His hands were gentle yet insistent as they moved over her body, shaping her back, her hips and her ass. He pulled her tightly to him and a flash fire ignited where their bodies touched. Her breasts grew heavy with want. Her nipples pearled,
the desperate peaks shamelessly begging for his attention—the merest brush of his fingers, or better still, a lave of his tongue, a suckle from his talented mouth.

  As though he possessed a direct line to her thoughts, Nash lowered that dark head and anchored it at her breast, drawing the taut crown fully into his hot mouth. A startled moan escaped her, and she found herself suddenly unable to support her own weight. She shifted until the backs of her legs touched the side of the bed, then brought him down with her.

  The feel of his belly against hers, the delicious weight of his body made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end, pushed a groan of pure delight—of anticipation—from her lips.

  His denim-clad legs brushed against hers and it dimly occurred to her that he was overdressed. She wanted to see him—all of him—and while being on the receiving end of his undivided attention was fantastic, Zoe didn't want to just be worshipped—she wanted to do a little worshipping herself. Wanted to make him sigh, moan, groan, whimper and beg. Wanted to feel every muscle grow rigid with need, to watch him grit his teeth and try to hold back, then succumb to the sensation and to give everything to her, leaving nothing in reserve. She wanted to watch those ice-blue eyes melt with satisfaction as he came.

  Though it took every ounce of will she possessed, Zoe pulled his head away from her breast. "You're overdressed," she rasped, her voice rusty with want.

  Those blue eyes suddenly twinkled and a slow, sexy grin slid over his firm, yet full, lips. "That's easily remedied."

  He slid back, straightened, and lowered his zipper, then shucked his pants and briefs in one fell swoop that left her instantly amazed and incredibly … hungry.

  She'd noted his size before. He was a tall man, built on an enormous scale, so reason would indicate that every part of him would be constructed in a proportionate manner.

  But Nash possessed his portion and easily half of another, Zoe thought, her eyes glued to that mesmerizing, awe-inspiring part of his anatomy, and the idea that that would soon be driving in and out, of her, pushing her to heights of unparalleled sexual ecstasy, made every particle in her body sing with depraved expectation.

  Of their own volition, her hands reached out and touched him, pulling a startled hiss from between his teeth. "Damn," he croaked. His thighs shook, then went rigid.

  Zoe shaped both hands around him, reveled in the novelty of the sheer size and heat, the soft-as-silk skin, the tension vibrating beneath her palms. She worked her hands back and forth, slid a finger over the rosy tip and caught a single pearl of desire that she'd milked from him.

  She wanted more.

  She looked up, caught his gaze, then purposely inserted her finger into her mouth and slowly sucked it clean.

  Nash swallowed convulsively and a strangled bark of laughter burst from his throat. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"

  "Yeah, well, do me a favor and don't die until I'm through with you, okay?" Zoe replied with a chuckle. Then she took him into her mouth, and the taste of him, the sheer masculine flavor, saturated her tongue, stirred her senses, pulling a moan of pure delight from the back of her throat.

  Lex gritted his teeth and his head fell back. He tunneled his fingers into her hair, massaged her scalp. It was like trying the first bite of a succulent dessert, then discovering that you loved the taste, Zoe thought.

  She'd sampled, she'd liked, now she would happily clean her plate.

  She scooted closer, then pulled him as far into her mouth as she could, curled her tongue around him in slow, thorough strokes, licking him as though he were a melting ice cream cone.

  Nash's breathing grew rapid, evidence of his pleasure, and those manly nonsensical sounds were her reward, fed the fever burning brightly inside her. Her sex throbbed, wept, and that achy hollow place inside her begged to be filled, pushed away and obliterated until she didn't know where she ended and he began. Her body craved release, was utterly desperate for it. These thoughts and needs flittered through her head, and she used them to draw reaction from him. She sucked, she licked, she nibbled, she stroked, desperate to make him as crazy as she was, to make him want her as much as she did him.

  She could feel the tension building within him, could feel it hum against her mouth, could taste the salty essence that preceded climax, and knew that with another clever flick and suckle, she could make him explode.

  He seemed to realize this as well, because he growled a miserable sort of howl, then drew back away from her hungry ministrations.

  "Not this way," he panted. His fevered gaze tangled with hers and another hot thrill whipped through her.

  She'd done that.

  She'd made him mindless with need.

  "I want to be inside you," he told her, his voice a harsh rasp. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "I need to be inside you."

  Zoe raked her nails lightly down his chest and her gaze searched his. "I can't wait for you to be inside me." Desire made her voice so low and sultry she barely recognized it as her own.

  Nash bent and retrieved a condom from the nightstand. He tore the packet open, then swiftly withdrew the protection and, hands shaking slightly, smoothed it into place. Then he joined her on the bed. When he would have positioned himself once more between her thighs, Zoe rolled him onto his back and straddled him. Her wet sex rode the ridge of his arousal. She blew out a shaky breath at the contact, felt her lids flutter shut as the sensation washed through her.

  His eyes widened slightly, then another melting grin curved his lips. "Want the dominant position, do you?"

  "No." She bent and flicked her tongue over his ruddy nipple. Smoothed her hands over the intriguing planes of his chest. Sheer perfection. All hers. "I just don't want to risk bad luck," she murmured, momentarily distracted by the jerk of his penis against her nether folds. Her breath caught. "The last time we tried it your way, we were interrupted."

  He smiled knowingly and a tortured laugh stuttered out of his lungs. "Baby, the house could blow down around me, and I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

  His gaze drifted over her breasts, down her belly and settled where their sexes met. He licked his lips, then arched up and took her breast into his mouth. Fire stirred in her loins and she ground her hips against him to smother it, but the futile act only fanned the flames, intensified the heat.

  She whimpered. Nash coupled the suckling with a deliberate slide between her slickened folds, snatching the breath from her lungs. He cupped her other breast, tweaked the nipple and nudged once more, this time bumping her clit. She whimpered, let her head drop back as she moved back and forth along the enormous length of him until the prelude simply wasn't enough. She had to have him inside her—now.

  She tilted her hips, took him in hand and guided him to her entrance, then slowly—oh, God, so very slowly, because she wanted to savor every inch, every ridge and vein, wanted to feel it all—lowered herself onto his throbbing shaft.

  Nash's neck arched back, revealing vulnerability and corded vein. His hands gripped her hips and every muscle in his body went rigid. The picture was indelibly imprinted on her brain—she'd never forget it. Never. A tendril of memory, of some distant yet significant thought, teased her once more, but Zoe didn't even try to draw it near. She was too consumed by the feel of him buried inside her so deeply, so perfectly she wanted to weep. That sensation made everything else fade into insignificance. There was no past, no future, only the present.

  Nash flexed his hips beneath her, pushed up and withdrew, creating a delicious drag between their joined bodies. Zoe winced as the pleasure barbed through her. She lifted and sank, lifted and sank, purposely and purposefully until the desire to drag the ecstasy out was forgotten and nothing but the race for release mattered.

  Nash sensed her change in demeanor and responded with urgent enthusiasm that made her breasts jiggle on her chest as she absorbed the force of his thrusts. She rode him while he heaved beneath her, their rhythm instinctively in sync. He reached down between their joined bodies and massag
ed the sensitive nub hidden in her drenched curls.

  Starbursts flared behind her lids. She felt the first flash of beginning climax tug sharply in her womb, and breathing raggedly, she upped the tempo. "Oh, God," she cried, tormented by the exquisite tension. "Oh, please." She winced, whimpered.

  It was— She couldn't—

  Nash thumbed her harder and her world shattered. The climax broke over her. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream, and she couldn't have lifted her lids if her life had depended upon it. She tensed as she surfed the pleasure, then melted against his chest as the last tremors subsided.

  Zoe didn't move, couldn't, wouldn't. She loved the feel of him inside her, cherished the most intimate connection. Nash's breathing finally returned to a normal rhythm and his large warm hands slid over her back in a soothing fashion. He probed the indentation of her spine, doodled around the dimples at the small of her back.

  "Mmm. That was incredible," she murmured against his chest.

  He didn't reply, seemed lost in his own thoughts, then finally lifted her head and made her look into his eyes. "I need you to remember something. It's very important, okay?"

  Emotion churned those ice-blue eyes to a stormy hue. "Sure," she said, perplexed. "What is it?"

  "I'm in with love you."

  Something warm tingled in her chest and a smile curved her mouth. "I—"

  "I've been in love with you since the first moment I saw you," he continued, his voice curiously intense, as though it was vitally important that she understood him. "I think that you are the most remarkable woman I have ever met. I look at you and I…" He looked away, as though unable to find the right words, then that tormented gaze met hers again. "I look at you and I melt. Something happens to me in here." He thumped his chest. "I just need you to know it. I need you to remember it."

  Now this was a completely new side of her badass, Zoe thought, unaccountably touched. It was soft and approachable, vulnerable and all too real. Her eyes misted with emotion and she kissed his cheek. She could barely speak over the lump in her throat. "Oh, Nash. I love you, too."