Forget Me Not (5 page)
He just nodded. “So are you ready to go home?”
“Home?” I looked up at him, stunned. Where was home? I felt as if things were finally falling into place, but I couldn't bear to go to another house that I didn't remember. “I can't.”
“What? You don't want to live with me? I thought you loved it here in the Napa Valley.” Aaron looked stunned, as if I'd hit him with the same piece of masonry that had stolen my memory.
“I don't remember anything of the past. Nothing about my childhood, my friends, my family. The only memories I have are of the last seven years, and I've just found out they were all a lie.”
“Did you love him?”
I nodded. “I think so. He was kind to me, although I suspect I was more like a treasured pet than a wife. Even now I can't think of you as Aaron. That was
his
name.”
“You used to call me Bo.”
“Bow?”
He grinned. “We'll have to watch a few reruns of The Dukes of Hazzard.”
I'd seen the movie and now I saw the resemblance and giggled. “Bo—” I began.
“I never forgot you,” he interrupted, cupping my cheek in his hand. “I remember how angry you were when I had your name tattooed on my arm. You said that anyone who put someone's name permanently on their body in this ever-changing world was just asking for trouble.”
So that was what was tattooed on his arm. I looked up into his eyes. I didn't know how I felt. He was still nothing more than a stranger to me. But an incredibly sexy stranger. My body craved his touch.
“Do you have any other questions I can answer?” Bo asked.
“About a million. But only one for now.”
“What's that?”
Bo seemed to brace himself for a really hard question. But I was sure the one I was going to ask was the last one on earth he would have expected. “How did I like to make love?”
He shook his head. “I'm not sure you're ready for that.”
I gave him a puzzled look. “Am I the one with the memory problem? It's not like we haven't had sex three times in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Yeah, but...” He trailed off and his dark eyes smouldered.
Then as if he'd made a decision, he pulled me roughly to him and his mouth captured mine, stealing my breath and fanning flames of desire between my thighs.
Without speaking, he ran his hand down my neck to the front of my blouse. With a quick pull, he jerked it open. Buttons pinged in the distance and my breath caught in my throat. I wanted to scream, but no sound would come. He leaned forwards, his lips brushing my ear.
“If you want me to stop, your safe word is
remember
.”
With rough, sure movements, Bo stripped me of the rest of my clothes. Then before I could stop him, he scooped me up and carried me to the bed.
“Roll over.” His voice was commanding.
I shivered, but not from fright as I turned onto my stomach. I could hear the rustle of cotton and the rasp of a zipper as he disrobed. Then I heard him open the closet.
“What are you doing?” I called and started to roll over.
“Do not move. I'll be right back.”
The tone of his voice allowed no disobedience. So I lay still.
I heard him rummaging through my suitcase. In moments he was back. Taking one of my arms, he pulled my hand towards the bedpost and tied it there with one of my silk stockings.
“Hey, those are—”
“Silence!”
I bit my tongue while he repeated the action with my other arm, ruining a thirty-dollar pair of hose. Then he was gone again. This time I didn't call after him. Waiting in this powerless position excited me. I imagined his touch, his body inside of mine, and I burned to feel him enter me.
When he returned, he climbed in bed beside me. “Tuck your knees up underneath you.”
I did as he asked. Once I was positioned the way he wanted, arms stretched out before me, my ass was propped in the air giving him full access to me.
Bo ran his hand down my shoulders, over my back and traced the round form of my buttocks. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured in a voice husky with desire.
I felt his breath on my pussy and then his hot, wet mouth was on me. He ran his tongue the entire length of my underside, moving from my clit up to the rosebud hole of my ass. I felt as though I might burst as he repeated this motion over and over. I squirmed against my restraints.
“You taste so good,” he groaned.
“Wouldn't you like to be inside me?” I asked as seductively as I could.
“And I will be, but not now.”
“Please,” I begged. If he wouldn't fuck me, perhaps he would put a few fingers inside me to ease my building need.
“You are an impatient young lady.” He laughed, rubbing my backside with his hand. Then he smacked it, hard.
“Ouch!”
“Don't speak and do not come until I say you can.”
I bit my tongue as he continued his slow torture of my nether parts. He sucked hard on my clit until I thought I would explode.
“Bo,” I begged.
He slapped my buttocks again. This time I sucked in my breath but didn't cry out. Still he teased me, this time by sliding between me and the bed and pulling me down to cover his face. His tongue teased at my clit with light, feathery motions. Tears gathered in my eyes as my need to climax became more urgent.
He finally slid the tip of his finger into me. I could feel the muscles of my pussy trying to draw him deeper inside. Just when I thought I would come anyway, he withdrew his finger and stood up.
I wiggled my butt at him, hoping he'd ram his huge cock into me. As if he'd read my mind, he grasped my hips and entered me with one smooth motion. My orgasm started to spiral around inside of me, and I moaned.
“No coming,” he warned again. “Not until I tell you.”
He slammed into me and caused me to brace my hands against the headboard as it pounded against the wall. I pushed my hips back to meet him thrust for thrust as my orgasm built, there was no way I could hold it back much longer.
“Now.” His voice was a low growl. “Come for me now.”
My cries drowned the sound of our bodies slapping together and the rattling of the bed. My pussy milked his cock but I didn't feel his answering orgasm.
I hung my head and panted. This had been the most exciting and erotic encounter I'd ever had. And I sensed we weren't done yet.
He rubbed his cock, still wet with my juices, against my buttocks, playing with my opening with its head. I heard an odd sound, like a sneeze, and felt warm, oily liquid spill on my skin. His fingers explored my hole, poking just inside my entry.
The safe word hovered on my lips. I took a deep breath. “Have we done this before?”
“Oh yeah,” he groaned. “But I'll stop if you want me to.”
I shook my head.
He worked his fingers into me, stretching my tight muscles and causing me to draw in a sharp breath of desire.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I moaned.
He continued to massage my hole while pleasure and fear of pain tied up my insides. It felt so good, but with his size—
I didn't have time to anticipate, for suddenly his fingers were gone, replaced by his long, hard shaft. He moved back and forth and it felt wonderful and familiar.
He reached underneath me and rubbed his thumb over my clit. Waves of pleasure, tinged with sweet pain, washed over me. In a moment of awareness, I realised I enjoyed this feeling of helplessness. After all, I was not truly helpless, I could stop everything with just one word.
Shifting positions again, he pushed his pelvis against my backside, filling me completely while he slipped two fingers into my pussy. His long, gentle thrusts in one hole vied with the short, fast strokes of his fingers.
The control I had held fast disappeared.
“May I come?” I panted.
“Yes,” he replied.
He pushed into me one final time and called my name. I felt his cock throb as he too reached climax. He slid free of my body and moved off the bed. I heard him washing up in the bathroom. When he returned, he untied me. I crumbled to the sheets and lay sated and feeling completely boneless.
Tenderly, he cleaned me with a warm washcloth and towelled me dry. Wrapping himself around me, he cradled me in his arms.
“I liked that,” I murmured.
“You always did.” Bo stroked my hair out of my face. “I'm so sorry—”
I put my finger over his lips. “It's no one's fault.”
“If you aren't going to come home with me, are you going back to San Diego?”
“No, that life was a lie.” I shuddered, suddenly angry at having my past stolen from me. I wanted nothing more to do with anything of Thomas'. “I'm going to sell it all. I want to start over.”
“Where?”
Now that was a good question. I had money, lots and lots of it, according to Bo. The money from the sale of my book had been deposited that fateful September day and had been accruing interest ever since. With those funds I could go anywhere in the world. But the place that called to me the most was that little house on Hemlock Street.
With Melanie's spirit on the other side, I knew I could be happy there. And the money from the sale would keep her mother provided for until she rejoined her daughter.
I told him about the house and that it, more than any other place, seemed like home.
“Is there room in those plans for me?” he asked.
I was silent for a moment. I didn't know anything about this man, no more than I knew about myself. But I couldn't obsess about what had been taken from me. After seven years, I had never felt about Thomas the way I felt about Bo. Hell, in twenty-four hours I was already half in love with him. My past was a blank. There was only one direction to go. Forward.
“It's an awfully small house. But you waited for me for seven years, the least I can do is let you sleep on my couch.” I gave him a big wink, and he shouted with laughter.
Even if I never remembered my past, I had a feeling our future was something I'd never forget.
About the Author
Ericka Scott is first and foremost a reader. She'll read almost anything, including the back of cereal boxes in a pinch!
She began reading romance and romantic suspense during college when reading anything but a textbook was a guilty pleasure. Now, when she's not reading, camping, or wishing she had a maid, she's spinning webs of fantasy and penning tales of seductive suspense.
She currently lives in the high desert of Southern California with her husband and three active children (who think she is the maid).
Email: [email protected]
Ericka Scott loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at www.total-e-bound.com.
Also by Ericka Scott
To Catch a Casanova
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