Here to Stay (Silhouette Special Edition) (16 page)

“I like your instincts,” Sasha murmured huskily, almost making him laugh with pure joy. “My instincts say we should lie down before I fall down.” Miles lifted his head to look into her eyes. “They also say you are wearing far too many clothes.”

Sasha’s skillful fingers traced maddening patterns across his bare chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the contact, then tore his shirttails from his jeans and ripped the shirt off without undoing the last few buttons. Sasha sat on the edge of her bed. The robe pooled around her waist and covered her thighs, leaving her upper body bared to his greedy gaze. She had the athletic, perfect beauty of a classical statue.

Miles’s hands went to his belt buckle, then, fumbling, he managed to unbutton the fly and remove his jeans. He stood looking down at Sasha, trembling, aching to bury himself in her body, yet wanting to draw out every second into minutes, turn minutes into hours, so it would never be over.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he murmured, settling onto the bed beside her. “I’m almost afraid to touch you.”

“Please, touch me,” Sasha whispered. “I can’t think of anything I want more right now.”

“Neither can I,” Miles agreed.

Threading his fingers through the silk of her hair, he cupped her head and drew her closer. Her mouth opened under his, her tongue welcomed his. When her bare breasts met his chest, he felt as if their combined heartbeats could start an earthquake. He held her like that for a while, feeling as if he were binding her to him simply by holding her. Finally he eased her up toward the pillows, then brought his free hand to the belt of her robe. With fingers that shook he freed her of the heavy cloth. Still kissing her mouth, he teased himself by delaying the moment when he could see all of her.

When he couldn’t wait any longer, Miles drew his mouth from hers and slowly let his gaze drift over her long, lean form. Trembling, he traced the same path with his fingertips. Her skin was as smooth as polished marble, but warm and resilient with life. She lifted her arms to draw him down and he gave up the last vestiges of regret that he couldn’t recall his past experience with other women. Sasha was unique. All that mattered was the present.

Sasha wrapped her arms around Miles’s back and felt her body flow against him like water rippling over a rock. She absorbed his warmth and solid strength and held him tighter, needing to be even closer. His kisses grew hotter, harder, making her breathless. His hands swept over her skin, finding all the places that ached for his touch. His hardness nudged her thigh through his cotton briefs, and his readiness echoed her own. Impatiently Sasha reached down to his waist and struggled to slide his briefs off without breaking a kiss that seemed to have no beginning or end.

Finally Miles lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Slow down, Sasha,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m too close to the edge right now.”

“So am I,” she whispered urgently.

She felt his control snap. He groaned and moved away to free himself of his briefs. Now his hard flesh sprang hot and ready against her thigh. Reaching up under her pillow, Sasha found the condom wrapper she’d tucked there after her shower. As she stretched, Miles brought his mouth down on her breast. The warm, wet tugging of his lips sent shock waves down to her center.

Somehow, Miles took the flat packet out of her fingers, drawing his mouth from her breast long enough to remove the contents. While he took care of protection with trembling hands, Sasha trailed wet kisses over his upper body, smiling at his moans. When his fingers slid up her inner thigh to the heated place between her legs, it was Sasha’s turn to moan. Miles parted her, explored her with slow, care-ful touches that fueled the inner fire that threatened to blaze out of control.

Then Miles was leaning over her, his lips caressing her exposed throat. They moved in an instinctively choreographed dance that brought his hips between her thighs. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around the thick shaft nestled against her and seeking entry to her body, then guided him. Slowly, slowly Miles eased into her. Sasha sighed as her body accepted his possession. She felt herself opening to him until he was deep inside her. She hugged him close and raised her knees to lock her ankles around his hips, urging him deeper.

For a timeless moment they stayed without moving. Being joined with Miles felt breathtakingly new and miraculously familiar. Sasha ran her hands over his back and shoulders, gliding over the light film of sweat on his skin, enjoying the tightly reined power of the muscles wherever she stroked. Miles caught his breath and his strong arms trembled as her fingers skimmed over his taut buttocks.

“Sasha!” he gasped. “I can’t hold back.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, lifting her hips to let him know she was as ready for him as he was for her.

With a low growl, Miles began to move inside her, rocking her, driving her higher with every thrust. Sasha met him with equal hunger, with equal need, letting the spiral of sensations tighten within her until she didn’t think she could feel any more pleasure. With a subtle change of his movements, Miles showed her she could indeed feel more. She clutched at his broad back and cried out as unbearable pleasure set off fireworks behind her closed eyes. Before she could fully recover, Miles groaned fiercely and thrust wildly into her, sending her over the edge once again.

For a long, long time they stayed locked together. Miles breathed harshly against her neck. His body lay heavily on hers. Sasha reveled in every sensation, every point of contact between their heated bodies. She felt utterly sated and achingly alive.

“I must be crushing you,” Miles muttered finally, kissing her neck, “but I don’t think I have the strength to get up.”

“Then stay,” Sasha told him lightly, stroking his damp hair.
Stay,
she wanted to plead.
Don’t ever go.
He might even be tempted, but that wouldn’t be fair to him. Sasha couldn’t impose her needs on him. Miles had to get back to his own life in order to fully reclaim his identity. He would stay until he had to leave. The way she felt about him wouldn’t change because of that.

* * *

Long after he’d recovered enough strength to ease himself off her, Miles held Sasha close to his side. He didn’t want to break the spell by moving, by speaking. He listened to her breathing, felt the soft pressure of her breast against his ribs and tried to sort out his thoughts.

Mostly, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He felt new, reborn, after making love to Sasha. No,
with
Sasha. Even without his memories of other women, he knew that what they’d just shared had been incredibly special. Way, way beyond sex. Not that he was ready to put a name to any feelings. Not with his memory out in left field and his life on hold while he wallowed in self-pity.

Miles knew damn well that he had to go back to Secret Island to pick up the pieces of his identity and put the puzzle of his life together. The longer he stayed here with Sasha, indulging himself with her compassion and her quiet strength, the less likely it was that he would get a grip on what had gone wrong in Florida four weeks ago. Miles had been dodging the questions of why he’d driven all the way into Canada, of what he’d been running from, or possibly to, and of why he’d chosen to cut himself off from almost all human contact. That last was a real puzzler, because the more time he spent with Sasha and her friends, the more he realized he
liked
being with people. Why would a man who liked companionship create a life-style in which he had no real friends?

All those unanswered questions, and only a few hints gleaned from bare bones of facts.

Sasha sighed and snuggled closer. Her lips pressed against his shoulder. Automatically, Miles tightened his hold around her and felt his body respond to the brush of her knee on his thigh. It would be so easy to bury himself in her body again, and bury his questions in his mind. But he owed her the little bits of truth he’d discovered, before he took advantage of her again.

Miles pressed a kiss into Sasha’s fragrant, silky hair. “That fax this afternoon was from the investigator in Florida,” he told her.

“Anything helpful?” Sasha asked, sounding casual. A part of him wanted her to be excited and curious, but Miles knew he needed her serenity to face his own stormy seas.

“It’s a preliminary report on my early years. Nothing to hint at why I ended up driving to Canada.”

Sasha stroked his chest, then ran her fingers up his neck to his chin, tempting him to forget everything but making love with her again. “Well?” she prompted.

“Seems I spent most of my childhood, until I was sixteen, in foster homes.” She stroked his neck, then rested her hand on his heart. “Not all of them were up to your parents’ standards. Several of the foster parents I was placed with have been busted for battering kids and giving substandard care. A couple of them bounced me back and forth like a hot potato, but they weren’t charged with anything back then.”

“Oh, Miles, I’m so sorry,” Sasha murmured, kissing his shoulder.

Her pity stabbed his pride. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry that you were subjected to abusive treatment.”

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” Miles snapped, unable to put a lid on his sudden resentment.

Sasha wriggled out of his embrace to lean on her elbow and look down at him. “Is that why you waited until after we made love to tell me?” she asked, hitting the nail on the head. “It wouldn’t have made a difference, you know. You don’t have to test me.”

Her gentle understanding made him want to rile her, to find out if she had any feelings beyond compassion. “Don’t you ever get angry?” he demanded.

“Yes. And it’s not a pretty sight. But it has to be over something that outrages me. I would have made love with you if you’d confessed you were actually a visitor from Mars.”

He reached up to cup her cheek. Her dark eyes met his gaze steadily, with a hint of humor in their depths. “I feel like a visitor from Mars. The facts about my life pile up, and I can’t relate to them. Does that make sense?”

Sasha smiled. “It does, if Peter’s theory is right.”

Miles snorted. “You mean, about trying to escape some trauma that turned me into a hermit?” She nodded. He snorted again. “That’s the stuff you shovel in the barn, Sasha. I’m who I am. I just can’t re-member.”

“Then why didn’t you head back to Secret Island the minute you got out of the hospital? Why are you here, if you’re a hermit at heart? Why are you so concerned about Copper’s kids, if you’re a selfish, ruthless bastard?” She shook her head. “I’m betting you weren’t born to be a hermit or selfish and ruthless. Peter and I both think you withdrew from people to protect yourself.”

“So does Peter have an answer for what happens if I remember my past? Will I stay like I am, or go back to being a hermit?”

“That depends on what you decide, doesn’t it?” Sasha asked with that irritating calmness. “You have to figure out what you need and what you want.”

“Right now I want to make love with you again, but I know you need to sleep.”

She smiled and ran her hand down his chest, down his belly, down to his already aching loins. Her fingers closed around him, sending wildfire through his veins. “We can do both,” she murmured, which was exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.

It wasn’t until much later, with Sasha curled asleep in his arms, that Miles realized he’d bought into this fantasy that had to end. He couldn’t keep taking Sasha’s sweetness, her compassion, her strength without offering something of equal value to her. And he didn’t have anything of equal value. One of the keys to his financial success, he recalled, was the phrase, “If it looks too good to be true, it probably is.” With a sick feeling, Miles understood that the same warning applied to relationships. Eventually, Sasha would come to her senses.

S
asha gave in to her radio alarm slowly, unwilling to let go of the dream of lying snuggled in Miles’s arms. As reality filtered into her brain she realized she was indeed curled against his very solid body. When Sasha finally opened her eyes, she found him looking at her, his expression much too serious for a man who made love the way he did.

“Good morning,” she murmured, reaching up to touch her fingers to his mouth. “Why are you frowning?”

Miles looked startled. “I didn’t realize I was. I guess I was worried you’d be having second thoughts.”

The question didn’t surprise her. “Should I be?”

“Yes, but I hope you aren’t.” His answer didn’t surprise her, either. He gave her a crooked grin. “What’s on your agenda for today?”

“Shower, feed the critters, breakfast and rounds. What about you?”

“Same as you until after breakfast. Then laundry, which I never did get around to doing the other day. I’ve got a meeting in Newmarket with one of the local companies I’m thinking of investing in. Do you want me to pick up something for dinner while I’m in town?”

The comfortable domesticity of the conversation made Sasha smile. “Mmm. That’d be nice. Better make it something flexible, in case tonight resembles last night.”

He waggled his eyebrows and leered. “I hope it does.”

Laughing, Sasha pushed out of his arms and slipped out of bed. She didn’t think about her nudity until Miles said, “My God, you’re beautiful!” Then she felt herself blush over every naked inch. “Is there room for two in your shower?” he added, sounding a little hoarse.

The warmth inside her increased even more when she realized what he was suggesting. “There’s room, but there isn’t time.”

Miles reached across the bed to open her bedside table drawer and take out a shiny packet. Then he winked. “Sure there is. I’ll help you feed the critters and make breakfast,” he told her as he strode toward her, magnificently naked and already aroused. “There are some things that are worth making time for.”

Minutes later, as he thrust into her, with the warm water pouring down over them and the tiles cool against her back, Sasha found herself agreeing that this was indeed something worth making time for.

By the time they were dressed and ready to feed the cats, dogs and horses, the animals were complaining noisily. Copper followed them to the barn until Pretty Polly flashed past and took a swipe at the unsuspecting dog’s nose. Woofing indignantly, Copper turned and went back to wait on the front porch. Miles prepared the buckets of grain for all the pensioners, while Sasha got Desperado’s breakfast. As she made her way to the stallion’s separate quarters attached to the back of the barn, she could hear Miles greeting each of the other horses by name, chatting with them the way she did.

He would deny it, of course, but he was a very gentle, very giving man. All he needed was a chance to heal his soul. She couldn’t give him back his memory, but she had given him that chance. In return, he’d given her the fireworks, the passion, the chance to fall in love that she’d almost lost all hope of finding. No matter what happened in the future, she would treasure that gift.

To her surprise and delight, Desperado greeted her with a low nicker and nuzzled her gently when she offered him the grain bucket. He allowed her to stroke him the entire time he was eating, and barely looked up from munching until his bucket was empty. Then he stood almost patiently, while she ran her hands down each of his legs, checking their condition, then lifting each worn, chipped hoof to in-spect the state of his feet.

“What a wonderful fella you are,” she told him as she let herself out of his paddock. “Maybe I should think about keeping you. What do you think?” Desperado snorted, then moved quietly away, swishing his black-and-white tail at the flies.

“He’s right,” Sasha said to herself. “Totally impractical. Much better for him to be with an Appaloosa breeder.” She’d already spoken to two different breeders who could use the stallion to his fullest potential as a sire. It would be selfish for her to keep the horse just because he was starting to respond to her attentions. That would be like expecting Miles to stay forever, just because he was com-fortable here.

More than a little shaken by where her thoughts were leading, Sasha hurried back to the house to pour juice and coffee while Miles cursed the aging toaster and shook cereal into bowls. Over breakfast, seeking a neutral topic, Sasha asked Miles about the businesses he was interested in. He spoke enthusiastically about both, one a specialized software company, the other a small manufacturer looking to expand. The spark in his eyes when he talked about the ways he could help the companies told Sasha this was one thing Miles was definitely not trying to escape from in his past. He might have started with a casual poker game, but this was clearly his passion.

Suddenly it was past time for her to leave for her first appointment. She accepted Miles’s offer to clean up with a quick kiss that turned into a much longer one. Then she grabbed her medical kit and rushed out the door.

* * *

When Sasha returned at noon, she stopped first at the paddocks to feed the horses and make sure each one was okay. With those old-timers, it didn’t take much to pull a muscle or a tendon, and spring was making them kick up their heels in undignified glee.

Desperado greeted her with a low nicker of pleasure and trotted to where she stood with his feed bucket. As he wolfed down the grain, loaded with vitamins and minerals, she spoke quietly to him. First she told him about the calls she’d made that morning, then she explained that he was going to be shown to prospective buyers soon, and he’d have to be patient and well behaved.

“You like being groomed, don’t you, you devil,” she murmured, smiling at the answering snort. “Some Desperado. You’re turning into a lapdog. The next step is a bath. First I’ll scrub you all over, and then I’ll rinse you with warm water. You’ll love it.” Desperado lifted his head and flicked his ears, glancing past her, then dipping his head into the bucket again. It was enough to let her know she wasn’t alone anymore.

“If he isn’t interested, can I take his place?” Miles asked, laughter lurking in his low voice.

Glancing over her shoulder, Sasha met his smile and chuckled. “Sure, if you don’t mind being soaped with a rubber currycomb, and rinsed with water from a hose.”

“Hell, no. I figure that’s part of the appeal.” Miles stepped closer to the rail that separated them. Desperado gave him another quick look over the bucket, then went back to lipping up the remaining crumbs of his lunch. “I think he’s decided I’m not the enemy, either,” Miles added. “I came out earlier with some carrots, just to take a break, and he didn’t try to take my head off.”

Sasha smiled. “Bribery seldom fails with these guys. Although I had a pony mare once, when I was a kid, who was too smart to fall for bribes. When I showed her in conformation classes, I’d show her I had treats for her if she’d stand still like a good little girl. She figured out the first time that she wasn’t going to get her treats right away, so she’d clamp her nostrils shut and refuse to smell whatever I was trying to use to bribe her.”

Miles laughed softly, the sound warming her more than the sun beating on her shoulders. “Sort of cutting off her nose to spite her face?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Carefully Sasha moved to Desperado’s side and stroked his neck. He tossed his head and rolled his eyes, then heaved a sigh and relaxed. As she continued to touch him, letting him get used to the feel of human kindness, she murmured encouragement. “He’s doing better than I expected,” she confided to Miles, keeping her voice low and soothing.

“He’d have to be as thick as two planks not to appreciate the way you’re touching him,” Miles answered, his voice also quiet, a little husky, very intimate.

The memory of their morning shower made her pulse kick up and gallop. As if Miles were enjoying the same memory, his eyes darkened. He bent his head toward her, closing the distance between his lips and hers, until he was so close that Sasha had to shut her eyes to hide the hunger she was afraid would show too clearly. And then, when she could feel his breath whispering over her lips, Miles murmured, “I thought the morning would never end. I’m glad you’re back.”

Sasha’s knees buckled. Miles’s hands tightened on her shoulders, holding her up. With her eyes still closed, she made a soft sound of assent and waited for his kiss. His mouth brushed over hers, then he released her. Disoriented, Sasha opened her eyes and stepped back. Miles gave her a sheepish grin. He slipped one arm around her shoulders and drew her with him toward the house.

“Are you sweeping me off my feet?” she teased, hoping the answer was affirmative.

“I’d like nothing better than to carry you upstairs, throw you on a bed and make wild and crazy love to you. But—”

“If your knee is still too sore to lift me, I’ll be happy to go under my own steam,” Sasha told him.

Miles leaned in and dipped his head until he could capture her lips with his. The kiss was soft, sweet, playful and over much too soon. Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his.

“I was about to say you must be hungry,” he corrected, his voice raspy.

Sasha smiled. “Ravenous,” she assured him. “But not for lunch.”

* * *

By the time they’d made their way back downstairs, Sasha barely had time to return a couple of phone calls to clients and gulp down her lunch. After giving Miles a quick, hard kiss, she bolted out the door to her truck. Five minutes later she was driving back to pick up her day-planner with her appointments, addresses and phone numbers.

“I’d lose my head if it weren’t—” she started to say as she dashed inside. Then she saw Miles and halted abruptly. He stood in the open basement doorway, swaying, gripping at the open door. His laundry bag lay at his feet, an echo of the other day. She had to call his name three times before he turned to look at her. His face was ghostly white, and sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip.

“Miles, what is it?” she gasped, her heart pounding.

“I...I just remembered...about basements,” he answered hoarsely. “Why I can’t go down the stairs.” He gave her a sickly smile. “I don’t have a basement at Secret Island.”

She wrapped her arms around him and led him to the living room, where they could sit side by side on the sofa. “Tell me what you remembered. Don’t lock it in. Don’t shut me out.”

Tremors shook his powerful body. Sasha held him close, trying to absorb some of them. His breathing came in ragged gasps. After a minute of silence Miles drew a deep, slightly steadier breath.

“I can’t remember all the details, but I got enough to feel like I was reliving it.” Miles paused. His hand closed around hers. She held on and waited. “It must have been when I was little, maybe three, four, five years old. Too young to understand what was going on, too helpless to do anything about it.

“There was a man. A big, ugly bastard. He had some connection with my mother, but I don’t know what. I’m not sure I want to know. He liked to scare me. He also liked to cause pain, then warn me not to tell my mother or he’d hurt her, too. I can hear his voice, slurred and rough, threatening me. He must have been a drunk.”

Sasha changed her position so she could see his face. His eyes were focused on a point behind her. Gently she touched his cheek with her fingertips. “Tell me about the basement, Miles.”

Miles drew in a long, slow breath. “It was dark, with steep, creaky stairs that were open in the back.” He looked at her long enough to add, “Like yours,” with a quick grin. Then he looked away again. “This guy used to rough me up and lock me up in the basement, in the dark. Sometimes he’d tie my hands behind my back and loop the rope around my neck so I couldn’t move without choking myself. I have no idea how long he’d leave me down there, but a minute like that must feel like eternity to a little kid.”

Somewhere during his recital of this horror, tears had begun sliding down her face. Speechless, she pressed her hand to his cheek. After a moment he swallowed hard, then turned to press a kiss into her palm.

“Hey, it’s way in the past,” he said gruffly. “It’s not a great piece of memory to get back, but this probably means the rest of it will start coming back. And the only downside is that I have to use the Laundromat in Newmarket.” He flashed her a grin that had to be mostly bravado.

“It’s nothing to joke about, Miles,” Sasha protested.

He pulled away from her and stood. His golden eyes flashed sparks. “What would you rather I do? Wallow in it? Run to Peter and lie on his couch whining? It’s bad enough I turn into a cringing five-year-old when I try to go down your basement stairs. I’m a grown man, Sasha. Not a little kid. Not a mistreated horse. Don’t treat me like one of your rescue projects.
I’ve
got to get a handle on this and deal with it. Building a house without a basement was one solution. Doing my laundry in Newmarket for a few more days is another. I don’t want you feeling sorry for me.”

Sasha stood slowly, stunned by his anger. Stunned and hurt. She’d been so sure he knew her well enough to know she didn’t pity him.

Miles stood beside her. “Sasha, I really am dealing with this,” he said gently. “You better go. I’ve already made you late.”

Unable to speak, Sasha nodded curtly and turned away before Miles could see the fresh tears spill down her cheeks. These tears weren’t for him, however. They were for the fragile link between them that was so close to breaking.

The instant Sasha turned away, Miles wanted to kick himself. He wanted to call her back and apologize for being such a bastard, but she was gone before he could think of something to say that would con-vince her that he didn’t mean to hurt her. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what he’d just said. It had been like a dam bursting. First that Stephen King horror of a memory flashing through his head. Then his anger, hitting him like a tidal wave.

Unfortunately, he’d taken his anger out on the only person he wasn’t actually mad at.

If Miles had an ounce of sense and decency, he’d call Peter and tell him he needed to talk. Instead, he went to his phone in Sasha’s office and dialed the number of the private investigator. A few minutes later he hung up, satisfied that the investigator would start digging in the right direction. Then he called Eleanor Dobbs for an update on the business he’d left in her hands. Cheerfully she filled him in and made notes on his instructions.