Forgotten Sins sb-1 Read online

  She shook her head. “You’re crazy. What van? There was no van.”

  So, two options there. Either he hadn’t let her into his world, or she was lying. The desire for her trust caught him unaware. Well damn. He needed to stick with her until his memory returned.

  A voice in the back of his head whispered that was as good of an excuse as any to stay with her. He swung onto a main road, passing a long line of car dealerships. “Which way do I go?”

  Her sigh filled the quiet car. She eyed the glove box. “Get on the interstate going east.”

  Interesting—he could easily read the thoughts scattering across her face. “Is there a weapon in your jockey box, sweetheart?”

  She jumped, gaze slashing to him. “Um, yes?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Gun?”

  “Yes. Lady Smith. You taught me how to shoot and to always keep a weapon near.”

  Good. Though he’d appreciate it if she didn’t grab a weapon while in his vicinity… at least for now. “Let’s leave it there, all right?”

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms.

  He merged onto the interstate, following the signs toward Idaho. “I appreciate you taking me home, angel.” The nickname. It affected her if her pinkening cheeks were any indication. His peripheral vision was excellent, as was his night vision—too good. Who or what was he? The world began to close in on him. “I’m not sure what happened to me, but I promise I’ll figure it out.”

  “I’m sure your memory will come back—you’re the strongest guy I’ve ever met.” She didn’t sound happy about that fact, and her hand trembled as she ran her fingers through silky strands of blond. One small tooth bit into her lip. “Listen. You don’t know anybody in town. What happened must’ve been a mugging.” She turned toward him, those soft blue eyes illuminated by outside streetlights. “You can stay with me a few days until your memory returns. Or until we find your brothers.”

  Hesitation. It wrinkled her forehead. The woman didn’t want him staying with her. His heart thumped hard. His wife was kind. Soft. He glanced at her, letting her know his gaze was on her. This time. “I may not know myself right now, sweetheart. But I know I wouldn’t have let you go.” No way was he that fucking stupid.

  Fire flashed in those dangerous eyes. “You left me, sweetheart.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  Her gaze wavered. She shifted in her seat, looking away from him. “Take the next exit.”

  Doubt pouted her pretty lips. What did she know that she wasn’t telling him? Somehow he knew how to get answers from people—no matter the cost. A chill swept down his spine. He wouldn’t hurt somebody like Josie, would he? Shaking his head, he signaled and exited, following the road to a quiet street.

  She pointed. “Go right and up the hill, and take a left on Newcomer. My house is the fourth on the right.” The gentle timbre of her voice caressed his skin, providing comfort and a sense of belonging.

  Something told him he hadn’t belonged many places. He kept a close watch on the well-kept houses on either side of the street, many of them decorated with huge pumpkins, orange lights, and paper ghosts billowing from trees. He also watched the car lights behind him. More important, he tuned in to his senses. Nothing. No warnings, no fear. Though something was still off with his hearing—almost as if he expected to hear something else. Something beyond the norm. What was he missing?

  He pulled into her driveway to eye the white ranch house with cheerful shrubs along the front. The trim was a perfect navy blue. Unease filtered through his mind. He’d seen the place before. Welcoming. Sweet. Pure. “Your house is pretty.”

  She started, her gaze cutting to him.

  What? Had he never said anything nice to her? With a growl, he pressed the garage door button on the sun visor and drove into the empty space. Neat and tidy, the walls held rakes, shovels, and an assortment of tools with pink handles. The color made something in his chest ache. She shouldn’t have to swing a hammer. Ever. “You’re going to tell me whatever it is you’re keeping from me.” He jumped from the vehicle.

  Her feet hit the concrete, and her car door slammed shut before she responded. “I’m not telling you squat.” She tried to stomp past him.

  He shifted his weight, blocking her path. “I didn’t give you the option.” Not by one inch did he want to intimidate her. But he took a step, forcing the woman to tilt her head to glare at him.

  Fury flashed bright red across high cheekbones as her hands went to her hips. “If you think you can show up after two years, with freaking amnesia and order me around, you have another think coming.”

  Okay. Not intimidated. The ball of unease uncoiled in his gut as he relaxed. He bit back the grin that wanted loose. “I’m not leaving until I remember everything.”

  She inhaled deeply. “Either get out of my way or prepare to be a eunuch.”

  The woman was something. Indecision filtered through his brain. Surprise filled him with how much he wanted her cooperation. Her willing trust. He stepped to the side, allowing her to open the door and enter a cheerful kitchen with sparkling stainless steel appliances.

  He shut the door behind him and locked it. Was he the good guy or the bad? “Did I teach you to fight?” Instinct whispered that if she was his, even for a little while, he’d have taught her.

  “Maybe I taught you,” she muttered, shaking off her jacket to drop over an antique carved chair that matched a round table.

  He sighed. The warmth of the room caught him by surprise, making him feel like an overgrown bully. Pretty vases and glasses lined the top of the cupboards, the mix eclectic and somehow calming. Girly magnets of flowers and quotations adorned the refrigerator. The house was a home. “Your place is nice.”

  “Thanks.” She eyed the message machine on the uncluttered counter. It blinked with two messages.

  “Check your messages, Josie.” He kept the command soft while he wanted to push the button himself. Had the boyfriend called? Anger swept through him at the thought. The muscles at the base of his neck began to ache. That headache was coming back and soon. Who the hell would date a married woman? His woman?

  * * *

  Josie whirled around, unease skittering down her spine. As a husband, Shane had been both possessive and protective. She hadn’t minded—had even felt sheltered and safe. Well, until he’d deserted her. Then she’d missed the sense of belonging. “This isn’t going to work.”

  Three steps took her to the antique writing desk tucked into the corner. She’d found it at a garage sale the previous spring and had spent hours sanding and staining the piece after refinishing the kitchen table. From day one, she’d determined to create her own family heirlooms. Even if she stayed alone.

  She tugged out papers from the desk, throwing them against the Pottery Barn bowl that held apples on the table. The man was too tempting, and she was still damaged. Protecting her heart was her job, not his. “Sign the papers, and then you need to leave.”

  He lifted his gaze, those gray eyes that could blaze with passion or freeze with anger. For now, those windows shuttered closed. “No.”

  Exasperation caught a scream in her throat. It took every ounce of control she had to shove it back down. She’d wanted to do this the right way, the respectful way. A way that demonstrated they’d meant something to each other. Even though their marriage had ended, even though he’d left, enough had been there to end it right. “That’s not an option.” She tried to keep her chin from tilting as she threw his words back in his face.

  A spark flared in his eyes. His gaze swept her body top to bottom, pausing several times on the journey. The air in the room thickened.

  The moment slammed a hard awareness into her solar plexus. She’d imagined him in the comfortable home, looking at her like that.

  Like he had when they’d lived together.

  Her feet stuck to the floor. She couldn’t look away from his high cheekbones, straight nose, and the full lips she hadn’t touched in two years. His thick
hair had grown to his shoulders. Her fingers itched to touch. But she frowned. The military had let him grow his hair that long?

  Holding her gaze, he stalked forward as graceful as any jungle cat. Slow and sure—closing the distance between them until she inhaled his scent of heated cedar. A hum began in her abdomen. Heat flushed along her skin.

  One of his thick knuckles lifted her chin. She should step back. Away from danger. But something… something kept her still. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was hope that she could still feel on fire. Her limbs grew heavy. Too heavy to move. Her heart rate picked up.

  Slowly, so slowly they both knew she had eons to move away, he lowered his head. His lips brushed hers. Firm, knowing, so hot. Once, twice, and then a third time.

  A moan fluttered in her throat.

  He stepped into her, one hand clenching her hip and the other angling her chin. Fire. His tongue shot past her lips, taking. One movement and he tugged her against his hard body, forcing her curves to accommodate his larger size, to accept him, to cushion the firm ridge of an erection digging into her skin. Need rippled through her so fast she shivered. Her sex softened. Her nipples pebbled.

  The hand on her chin moved and tethered her hair as he destroyed her mouth. The familiar taste of him flayed her heart. His mouth released hers to press wet, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw to her neck.

  So fast.

  So hard.

  So demanding.

  She gasped for air, her mind spinning. Her knees weakening. Shane.

  He kissed lower, dipping his face in the V of her shirt, pushing the material aside to nuzzle the tops of her breasts. A low hum of male appreciation echoed against her skin. She slid both hands through his thick hair, tugging him closer. Heat filled her. A ringing began in her ears. Her body leapt to life. For the first time in two years, she craved.

  Suddenly, he shifted again, cupping her ass and lifting her against him. She gasped as her feet left the ground. Her legs automatically circled his waist.

  This was crazy… and she truly didn’t care. More. She needed more.

  Her body had been asleep for two years and suddenly felt awake. Alive.

  The demanding hardness of his cock pressed against her core. His mouth returned to demolish hers, his strong hands working her body against his. Held aloft, she moaned and pressed her thighs against his hips, rubbing against him. Needing. Finally, he lifted his head.

  His kiss was harder and more insistent than in their earlier life together. He’d always been so careful—so gentle. Something wild and new cascaded from him now. Excitement flared inside her chest. For once he was treating her as an equal. As a woman and not as something fragile he needed to shield.

  Possession. It glittered in his gray eyes along with need. Desire. Promise. She should think. Shouldn’t she think?

  “Josie. Either tell me where the bedroom is, or I’m taking you on the floor.” Low, almost guttural, his voice caressed the raw nerves all but begging for his touch.

  Dazed, she opened her mouth to speak. The shrill of the phone made her jump. She shook her head. Reality. Where was reality? The phone rang again.

  Shane’s eyes narrowed. His grip tightened on her ass, pulling her sex harder against his. She moaned. His dangerous gaze kept her captive.

  The phone rang again.

  Then her voice telling the caller to leave a message.

  Then… Tom. “Hi, beautiful. How about dinner tonight?”

  Chapter 3

  The air chilled ten degrees. Maybe more. Tension ripped through the once-peaceful kitchen. This was bad. Disastrous. Josie released Shane’s hair and slammed her hands against his chest, trying to unhinge her legs from around his hips.

  He held her in place.

  “You’re hurting me,” she whispered. He wasn’t, not even close, but the words would make him release her.

  “Then stop moving.” Not an ounce of give showed on his face.

  She blinked several times. Shock kept her body immobile. The Shane she’d known would’ve set her immediately and safely to her feet.

  Tom’s voice droned on in the background, detailing late dinner plans. She had to shut off the machine. Josie struggled, fighting to drop to the floor. She’d almost had sex with Shane. Two more seconds and—

  “No.” Shane’s jaw hardened to rock. His eyes darkened to slate.

  Panic. Danger. Violence. Josie stilled, her gaze captured by the anger in Shane’s. So much. Her lungs compressed. In all the time they’d spent together, not once had she been afraid of him.

  Until now.

  The machine clicked off.

  The seconds ticked by as her heart rammed against her ribs. His gaze kept hers. No expression showed on his savage features, no glimmer in those eyes. She suppressed a shiver. Who was this man? Slowly, almost gently, Shane lowered her to the floor, holding her shoulders until she’d steadied herself. Then he took two steps back.

  A chill ran over her arms, and she rubbed trembling palms against goose bumps. How in the world had she let this happen? She hadn’t ever tried to stop him. Even now, her body ached. For Shane. He was different this time. Not in control, not hiding his feelings. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  Shane tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. So he wouldn’t reach for her again? “You’re not going to dinner.”

  Well, no shit. She cleared her throat. “I’ve built a good life here, Shane.” No way was she letting him tear it down. Not again. Never again.

  Maybe if she repeated the mantra enough, she’d believe the words.

  Regret flashed across his face. “Do you love him?”

  She was just getting to know Tom. Recently divorced, he harbored as many wounds as she did and had shown her kindness in the two months they’d known each other. But love? She’d given all she had to Shane. Who was anything but kind. “That’s none of your business.”

  Shane tilted his head. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes.”

  A smile flirted with the corners of his lips. “Five more minutes and I would’ve been inside you. Hard and fast.”

  Desire slammed below her abdomen even as she lifted her head in challenge. Hard and fast. One of the many ways Shane enjoyed the bedroom. As well as slow and soft. Crazy and fun. Yet always in perfect control.

  His smile spread, soft and deadly. “And you would’ve been screaming my name, begging for more. We both know it.”

  Was he remembering? Or just so sure of himself? She lifted a shoulder. “The sex was always okay between us, Shane.” The lie nearly made her choke. The sex had been incredible.

  He laughed. A deep male chuckle. One she hadn’t heard in far too long. “Want me to prove it was better than okay, angel?”

  Yes.

  She sure did. Her breasts ached. Her sex had swollen. Intrigue at this new side of him sent fire through her veins. Hope flared alive, and she quashed it instantly. The man would never truly change, never truly let her in. “Hell, no.” Jerky movements had her at the table, where she yanked her cell phone out of her purse and sent a quick text message to Tom. She was too tired for dinner and would call him tomorrow.

  Tossing her phone onto the counter, she flung open the refrigerator door and grabbed leftover lasagna. Routine would settle her. Whenever life became too much, she buckled down and got organized. Oddly enough, Shane had taught her that coping mechanism. Taking control of something as silly as color coordinating her closet had given her peace and a new outlook on life more than once. It looked like it was time to pick a new project again.

  Cooking was another way she’d learned to soothe herself. The blue glass dish filled her hands. She’d made the lasagna the night before and more than half a pan remained. Shane’s favorite. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

  A chair scraped behind her, and she turned as Shane dropped into it. Even sitting, his bulk overwhelmed the small space. Deep circles lay under his eyes as dark as the bruises covering his skin. “Are you going
to feed me now?”

  “Yes. Then you can sign the papers and get out.” She shoved away sympathy and put the dish in the microwave to set the time, fighting the pleasure of cooking for him again. While married, she’d felt married when cooking. Like they were a real family. Warm, healthy food was the only way he’d allowed her to care for him. And she’d loved doing it.

  Even now, she’d spend hours at the farmer’s market choosing just the right ingredients. The freshest spinach, the home-grown tomatoes. Just last week, she’d spent an hour finding the right oregano plant to grow on the windowsill. In the kitchen, while cooking, for brief moments she allowed herself to pretend they were still together. That he relied on her. That he trusted and needed her.

  But he never really had needed her. Until now.

  How could she force him out? He had no clue who he was. Unless he was playing her. She grabbed plates and soda as the pasta cooked, taking the dish out and filling two plates before sitting. Beer wasn’t her thing, and the kind he liked, Guinness, was too strong for her. So she didn’t have any to offer. “You like lasagna. At least you used to.”

  Shane nodded, taking a big bite and swallowing. “I still do.” Pleasure quirked his lip up as he ate.

  Warmth filled her in response.

  Finally, after clearing his plate, he rubbed his eyes. “Help me fill in the gaps. How did we meet?”

  Memories crashed through her with a familiar pang. “We met in a coffee shop.” About a million years ago. “Some guy was messing with me, wouldn’t leave me alone, and you made him.” The guy had thought he was so cool with dark aviator glasses, pretending to be a soldier. He’d been Shane’s size but had backed down instantly. “We got married three weeks later.” A whirlwind. Fast, explosive, and so damn sexy. Completely opposite of how she planned her life. What had she been thinking?

  “I see.” Shane’s eyes warmed. “How long were we married until we, ah…”