Forget Me Not (2 page)

He knelt. I felt so wanton and wicked, feelings I'd only had in fantasies before. When his mouth connected with my nether lips, I unintentionally pulled back. The jerking reaction had been instant but unwilling.

“I'm sorry, it's just been—”

He lifted an index finger in front of his lips and made a shushing sound. Then he extended his finger forwards and teased a curl of my pubic hair before slipping it between my folds. I spread my legs a little and hoped they would continue to hold me up. However, if I collapsed on the floor, it would make it so much easier for him to take me. I giggled a little and then gasped as his mouth found my aching centre.

Aaron had never gone down on me like this. If I'd known what I was missing, I would have insisted upon it.

His tongue circled my clit, slowly and gently at first, then he sucked it fiercely into his mouth as if he couldn't get enough of me. He slipped another finger inside me to join the first and now thrust them deeper and faster as his mouth continued its magic.

The orgasm hit me hard and fast. Lights burst behind my closed eyes, and I lost myself to anything other than the pleasure. His tongue swirled over my flesh until I had to hold onto his head to keep from falling.

He rose slowly and pressed his lips against mine. I could taste my own desire on them and found it strangely intoxicating.

“I want you,” he whispered.

The evidence of his arousal was pressed into the flesh of my belly.

I reached up, unbuttoned his shirt and spread it open. I pushed him back a little. His chest looked exactly the way I'd imagined, down to the gold nipple ring. His skin was bronzed. I pushed the shirt off his shoulders and felt my eyes widen as I saw the barbed-wire tattoo on his bulging biceps. However, my imagination had been lacking, as there was now a red rose tangled in the wire. Something else was inked there, but without taking a closer look, I couldn't make out the words.

Right now, my need was too great to be distracted with reading the guy's tattoo. I fumbled with the snap on his jeans. Aaron had never let me undress him, so I hadn't had much practice, but I finally wrenched the fastener open. The zipper slid down of its own accord. Even hidden by his black boxer briefs, I could tell his erection was much larger than Aaron's had been. It only took a few moments to rid him of his clothes.

His cock was gorgeous, long and thick. I gripped his shaft and my mouth watered. I wanted nothing more than to sink to my knees and devour it. I must have made some move towards that goal, but his strong hands held me still.

“Maybe next time. Right now I need to be inside you.” He removed my hand and with one easy move swept me up into his arms.

I had a momentary qualm but shook it off. Aaron was dead. There was no one I had to be faithful to anymore. We were both consenting adults and as long as we used protection ... My heart stuttered. I had stopped taking the pill right after Aaron's death. He hadn't wanted children until his career was established. Unfortunately, cancer took him long before that could happen.

I let my eyes rove over the man's face as he carried me to the bed. Its planes were chiselled, although his nose looked as if it had been broken a time or two. I just knew he'd make beautiful babies.

Okay, I know there are other risks to unprotected sex, but damn it all, I was ready to take them. If he didn't say anything about protection, I wasn't going to bring it up. I wanted a baby, even if it took bedding a stranger to get one.

He lowered me gently onto the sheets and began to climb on top of me. But I'd had enough of the missionary position to last me several lifetimes. With a giggle, I rolled away from him and knelt with my bottom in the air. Would he or wouldn't he?

He spread my legs a bit more and nudged up into me. His cock slid against my slit and I could feel my juices coat his penis. I was so ready.

He entered me with one sure thrust. I knew he was large but I was surprised at how he filled me. For once, I felt complete. He pulled all the way out and I moaned. Then he drove into me. I bucked in his arms until his slow rhythm developed into something faster and harder. Every time he slid in, I met him thrust for thrust. My control was slipping and I could already feel my orgasm building.

I buried my face in my pillow to stifle my scream of ecstasy and I felt him surge and throb deep inside me as his hoarse cries echoed around me. We stayed joined together for the longest time. It just felt so right.

When we finally pulled apart and sank, breathless, onto the cool sheets, doubts rushed over me. What had I done? I'd just had sex—passionate, mind blowing sex—with a stranger. This wasn't me.

Or was it?

Did I really know who I was?

After the accident, I'd never had this rush of passion. When Aaron made love to me, it was slow and careful ... and boring. I knew the fault was mine. Getting hit on the head with a chunk of a building and then waking up to a nightmare of epic proportions was enough to kill anyone's sex life. Especially when the man you're married to is a stranger.

I even saw a therapist for a little while, hoping to reawaken ardour for the man I was married to. But after six months I'd just given up and decided to play the hand I'd been dealt. Aaron and I didn't have a grand passion, but I had learned to love him despite our obvious differences.

The man next to me snored softly. I hadn't slept next to a man since Aaron died and I missed the warmth and comfort derived from the closeness of another human being. I relaxed a bit, thinking that in the next few minutes I'd get up, rouse the stranger and politely ask him to leave.

I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I remembered was a dream. However, in retrospect I realise it was more like a memory.

"It's my life and I want to go.” It was my voice I heard raised in anger.

"I have a bad feeling about this trip. Please, wait a week and I'll go with you,” a man said. I couldn't see his face. I knew it wasn't Aaron, but the voice was familiar.

"I can't. Seven hundred thousand dollars is too much money to turn down."

"Why don't you just listen to sense? There's a madman out there stalking you. Wait until I can go with you."

"The offer won't be there next week."

"How do you know?"

"The same way I know a lot of things. They tell me.” I moved closer to the man and felt his arms go around me. It felt like coming home.

I jumped awake and had trouble discerning the dream from reality, for I was wrapped tightly in the man's arms and the feeling of comfort extended beyond the dream.

“Good morning.”

His voice was husky with sleep. I normally didn't kiss anyone before brushing my teeth. But I made an exception. His hands slid down my naked body, and I melted into him.

His morning erection was hard and throbbed against my hip. It only took a small push to roll him onto his back. I heard him catch his breath as I ran my tongue around the head of his penis then took him into my mouth. His male scent aroused me, and I sucked him vigorously, the way Aaron had liked it.

To my surprise, I felt a tug on my hair. I looked up and met his eyes. The invitation I saw reflected in their depths was clearer than any spoken word. I straddled his thighs and hovered over his cock. The nearness of him made me throb with anticipation. He held my hips still as he brushed his cheek and mouth over the sensitive and aroused peaks of my breasts, the softness of his lips vying with the tickle of his stubble. I cried out as he pulled a nipple into the warm wetness of his mouth. Only then did he release his grip, and I slid onto his hard shaft. My orgasm hit as I encompassed his length. I could feel my muscles pulling him in tighter and I shifted up and down until I thought I would explode from the pleasure.

His hoarse cries drowned out my own as he thrust up into me. I felt him throb deep within me as my pussy milked his length. He pulled me down onto him in a tight embrace and softly kissed under my ear and down my neck. Goose flesh rushed down my body.

I could have lain there forever, but the rumble in my stomach reminded me I hadn't finished dinner last night and, if I didn't get up soon, I'd miss breakfast as well. Rolling off him, I lay next to him and studied his face.

When we made love, he
felt
so familiar.

“Who are you?” I finally asked.

His eyes clouded a bit with emotion. “So you still don't remember anything?”

I shook my head.

“You're not going to believe me, but my name is Aaron Davies. I'm your husband.”

I recoiled from him as if he were a snake about to bite. “No!” I shouted. “Aaron is dead. If this is some sort of sick joke, I'm not laughing.”

I looked up at the man's face. I didn't want to believe my ears, but there had been a ring of truth in his voice. And there was the evidence of my body. In the seven years I'd spent with Aaron, I'd never reached orgasm with him. Never. And I recognised the voice from my dream. Had it really been a memory after all these years of blankness?

“It's no joke, Letitia.”

He kept talking, but I didn't hear another word he said.

“Leave, just leave,” I finally screamed. Then I dropped my voice to what I hoped was a menacing growl. “If you don't leave, I will call the police.”

He lifted his arms as if surrendering. I couldn't even look at his face. I just wanted him gone. Now.

To my relief, he stood up, found his clothes and dressed. The silence in the room was almost a physical presence. At one point, he opened his mouth to speak, but I quelled him with a glare.

After he left, I showered, got dressed and put on makeup. There was a small cardboard box sitting just outside. I shoved it into the cabin with my foot then shut and locked the door. Although I was curious, my mind simply could not absorb any more information until I'd fed my body.

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Chapter Two

It was a short walk through the grapevines to the dining room. I usually enjoyed it. Today, however, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I felt ill at ease, watched. I looked around but saw no one lurking nearby.

Luckily the breakfast buffet was still laid out in the dining room. I took a plate and filled it with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and an English muffin.

I thought back to the very first breakfast Aaron had served me, toast and orange juice. I hadn't even known how to pick up a glass to drink. He'd patiently taught me how to feed myself, walk, talk, and eventually how to make love.

I shuddered and pushed my plate away. Why had the stranger claimed to be Aaron? What if he really was? Which left the most disturbing question of all—if the man I'd lived with wasn't Aaron Davies, my husband, who was he?

To my dismay, someone took the seat across the table from me. I looked up and saw it was the woman with the bullet hole in her forehead.

This time I spoke outright to her. I no longer gave a damn if my fellow diners thought I was nuts. Hell, I probably was.

“Can I help you?”

She nodded vigorously and then pointed to her forehead.

“I can see you were shot. Do you know who killed you?”

She nodded, and her smile faded, then she pointed at me.

“I know who killed you?” I tried to return her smile. “Honey, I might have, but I don't have any memories from before September 2001. So if you want me to help you, you're going to need to give me more information than that.”

A breeze blew a menu across the table. Numbers and letters were circled in what seemed like random patterns.
Oh joy
. Why in the hell couldn't the dead just come out and tell you what you needed to know?

I started to ask her that self-same question, but she'd already disappeared. My stomach rumbled again. I'd be no use to anyone if I didn't eat. I forked a bit of egg up and studied the paper. The bed and breakfast didn't have a daily menu, you simply ate what was served.

With a start, I realised I was familiar with the name of the restaurant. It was a tiny hamburger joint right on the edge of town. When we had come to Napa that long ago day, I had just gotten back my appetite. A hamburger had sounded luscious and I had begged to stop. Aaron had refused, saying the food there was horrible. I wondered how he had known, since he'd professed to have never been to Napa Valley before.

Had that too been a lie?

Thinking back, I now knew it must have been. My memory of that time was so hazy. I'd been plagued with severe headaches, nausea and the incessant visions of the dead. He'd claimed that we came here to help me recuperate from my injuries, but I actually would have been more comfortable in a nursing home where the staff would have been available when he wasn't. While we were here, he would tend to my basic needs and then disappear for hours. I'd sat or slept in the lonely cabin, unable to properly care for myself. I closed my eyes and tried to picture Aaron that weekend. He'd been ill at ease and very jumpy. When I asked, he'd explained he was concerned about national security. So concerned, in fact, he'd even bought a gun. I shuddered. What had we really been doing here?

I couldn't solve that mystery without more information, but I could work on the one in front of me. While I ate, I scratched out possible combinations of numbers and letters. Despite all of my alphabetical gymnastics, I couldn't come up with anything that made sense, except the word ‘hemlock'. Well, damn it, the woman had obviously been shot, not poisoned. It had to mean something else.

Perhaps the clue was really the menu. I flagged down the server and asked for a local map. After determining the location of the restaurant, I headed for the parking lot. My little grey sedan was right where I'd left it. I slid behind the wheel and cranked up the volume of the radio. I'd found that loud music served to discourage the spirits from riding along with me.

The restaurant looked exactly the way I remembered it, but today the parking lot was packed. The foyer was filled with grey-haired customers waiting for tables. A sign indicated that I'd arrived in time to join the seniors for their monthly breakfast get-together. I wasn't planning on staying, but a large picture over the cash register caught my eye.