Reckless (Blue Collar Boyfriends Book 1) (9 page)

“Please don’t leave me.” Seeing evidence of the weirdness might push him too far. “Whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry.”

He closed the space between them. Gripping her shoulder, he said, “Don’t apologize to me, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the asshole. And I’m trying to make it better.” He stepped back from the bed and held out a stop-hand. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back. I promise.” He backed out of the room, imploring her to trust him with sincere brown eyes and a disarming grin.

Seeing him walk away left an empty hole in the pit of her stomach, but she stayed put like he’d asked, finding comfort in the sounds of his footfalls as he moved through the living room and into the kitchen. He was back in less than a minute and had something blue in his hands.

“Ice pack,” he said, climbing on the bed and sitting with his back against the wall, where a headboard would be if he had one. He held out an arm to her, and she wasted no time settling beside him. Her whole body melted with a feeling of peace. Touching him was her heaven.
Being separated from him, her hell.

He made sure a pillow cushioned her back. Curling one arm around her, he patted her lap and said, “Put your hands here.” When she did, he draped a thin towel over the backs of her hands and rested the ice pack on top. The cold seeped through the towel to soothe her painful knuckles.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said even though the gesture was like an injection of cozy joy straight to her heart.

He nuzzled the side of her head. “Yes, I did.” He sighed through his nose, a sound of self-incrimination.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted.

“Yes. It was. I was a coward.
And an ass. Unwilling to see what was right in front of me.”

She leaned
forward, offended he could possibly think he’d done anything wrong. “You did what any sane person would do. It’s not normal to have strangers appear out of nowhere in the middle of your bedroom.”

“You have a point,” he conceded. “But it’s not like you sprang yourself on me. I had plenty of opportunities to figure out you were here. I was just being dense. Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” It was sweet he thought he owed her an apology, but she was eager to get back to the kissing. Her gaze kept darting to the clock, which insisted on counting down her time with him.

“Hush. Let me do this,” he said, placing a finger over her lips. When he continued, he traced that finger down her chin and throat and dragged it across her collarbone, making her shiver all over. Okay, she could handle him apologizing as long as he had other things in mind, too. “When I thought you were imaginary, it didn’t bother me to…” He forced air out his nose and cupped her cheek. “Use you like I did last night.”

She gasped. “Use me? How was that using me? I practically jumped you. I should have been more sensitive—you’d just had a terrible dream, and there I was, kissing you and grabbing you. I should be asking your forgiveness.”

He pinched her lips closed. His eyes twinkled with mischief, but sobered as he said, “Sweetheart, there was nothing wrong with what you did to me.
Nothing. I only wish I had returned the favor. It’s an oversight I plan to correct. Now.”

He lowered his mouth to hers and
paused a breath away. Their eyes locked. Everything from her lips to the soft place between her legs plumped up in anticipation of the wicked promises in his gaze. He attacked her mouth with a growl.

Nothing like the apologetic kiss from before, this kiss demanded. It took. This kiss was the best thing to happen to her ever, and that had to include whatever she’d experienced before the fog. The ice pack forgotten, she twined her arms around his neck.

He withdrew only enough to change his angle and seal their open mouths more perfectly.

That second of separation had her gasping his name.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, and he hauled her onto his lap, encouraging her to straddle him.

She held on for dear life while he ravaged her mouth. Liquid heat gathered between her legs, and every feminine part of her ached to be fondled. The fog could not have her back until she’d known the
entirety of Derek. Maybe it was the stress of the situation talking, but he felt like her destiny. He felt like
hers.

Keeping their bodies smashed together with one strong arm, Derek flipped her onto her back. His weight on top of her was the sweetest security, his hot, wet kisses the deepest comfort.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling their pelvises into alignment.

He tore his mouth from hers to trail kisses down her throat while he worked the buttons down
the front of her shirt. “Let’s get you out of these clothes, sweetheart.”

Yes, yes,
she thought, but it came out as a desperate mewling sound.

He chuckled, but the smirk dropped from his face when h
e exposed her lacy, white bra. “Beautiful.”

Was she? She still didn’t know what she looked like.

“Thank you,” she said, trying to tug him down for more of those fantastic kisses.

His smirk returned. “Oh, no you don’t. This is my show now, and I want to put my mouth somewhere else.”

If his words didn’t send her body into sensual shock, his hungry gaze certainly did as he focused on the skin and lace he’d exposed. She couldn’t believe she was the object of such intensity. It should frighten her, but it filled her with confidence, instead. That confidence guiding her, she ran her hands along his toned arms and shoulders. Nothing in this strange existence, not even comforting him through his nightmares, compared to petting him like this and watching his breath catch and his face relax at her touch.

She did something to him. Having that kind of power over this
intimidating man was worth every long, lonely minute of the fog. Maybe it was even worth dying for.

She forgot the fog, forgot the clock,
forgot every anxiety that had plagued her these strange few days as Derek put his mouth to work where his gaze had roamed. While he explored her with lips, teeth, and tongue, he pushed his hand into her panties. When had her shorts gotten unbuttoned? She didn’t know and didn’t care.

Playing her body like he owned the patent, he brought her to a swelling
, symphonic peak of pleasure. Her loneliness and fear scattered to the atmosphere in tiny bits that couldn’t hurt her anymore.

Derek rub
bed his cheek against hers and whispered, “That’s my girl. My sweet dream girl. You are so perfect.”

Despite the wonderful little aftershocks of her release, she bristled. He’d said he no longer thought she was imaginary, but those words made her wonder if he truly believed it.

“I’m not perfect,” she said, not caring if she ruined the moment. She refused to let him believe she was some fantasy. “And I’m not a dream. I’m as real as you are.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “You are.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. With that settled, she tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair and tugged his mouth to hers. With her other hand, she tried to divest herself of her panties.

She wanted more of him, and she wanted to give him more of herself.

He closed his strong hands around her wrists, stilling her movement. “Which is why this has to stop here.”

Her heart plunged into her stomach, leaving a trail of hurt all the way down. He didn’t want her. He only wanted to clear his conscience. An orgasm for an orgasm. An ice pack for her knuckles. And now he was done with her.

How stupid she’d been to think those hungry looks had been because he cared for her.

She turned her head to hide her face. She should slip out from under him and jump off the bed to leave him in peace, but even with her heart deflated and aching, nothing short of him commanding her out of his bed would make her leave before the fog stole her back again. So he didn’t care about her like she cared about him. He was still her only friend.

“Hey,” he said, cupping her face in his warm hand and
bringing her gaze back to his. “None of that. I’m not rejecting you.” He combed his fingers through a thick sheet of her hair. “Definitely not rejecting you. It’s just, I don’t even know your name. Before this goes any further, you and I need to do some talking. That’s all.”

She blinked. He was being completely reasonable. She’d just overreacted big time. How embarrassing. She wanted to crawl under the covers and hide, but Derek’s hips pinned her in place. “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping her blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

He framed her overly-warm face with his hands. “I don’t want to hear that word out of your mouth again, understand? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes. I did. I’m being too emotional. I
am
sorry. You’re being very sweet and I’m being all—”

He cut her off with a slow, close-lipped kiss. When he’d finished, she couldn’t remember what she’d been about to say. Or what she’d been so embarrassed about. This was Derek. She should never have to feel embarrassed with him. She was his dream girl. And he was her everything.

“Do you remember your name, beautiful?”

She shook her head and reached up to stroke her fingers through the hair at his temple.

He leaned into her petting, and she felt him hard against her hip as he braced over her. With her next breath, she arched her back enough to scrape her nipples over the hairs on his chest. Purring at the abrasive sensation, she realized she hadn’t licked that delicious-looking chest yet. She’d definitely have to do that before returning to the fog.

“
Ah-hem
.”

Her gaze snapped back up to his. She had an impulse to apologize for getting distracted, but his grin filled her with confidence. “What were you saying?” she asked with an answering grin.

“Name?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been thinking of myself as DG, short for dream girl.” She went for brevity and honesty. The quicker she answered his questions, the quicker he’d feel like he knew her well enough to help her out of her panties.

His eyebrows shot up. Apparently, she’d surprised him, and judging by the amused tilt to his mouth, her answer pleased him as well.

“It’s the closest thing I have to a name,” she added with a shrug.

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

“Do you have an address?”

“Does your address count?”

He gave her a look that said it didn’t. “Phone number, email address, place of employment, driver’s license?”

She rocked her head from side to side for each one.

“Well, what do you remember?”

That was easy.
“The fog. When I’m not here with you, I’m there. That’s it. That’s all I remember.”

“Me and fog.”

She nodded and concentrated on not thinking about how
much time she had left before she had to go back there. At least the clock was behind her now. She couldn’t keep torturing herself by checking it every few minutes.

Derek’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “You don’t remember anything
—uh, like, anything bad happening?”

“Anything bad?
Oh.” He meant, did she remember dying. “No.”

“Well that’s something, right?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, but she didn’t feel as optimistic about it as he looked.

“Hey.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t look that way. We’ll figure this out, okay? We’ll figure it out together, and whatever this is, we’ll fix it.”

“Really?”

“Really.
And for what it’s worth, you don’t seem…you know, dead to me.”

Hope lifted her spirits, but they crashed down again. Despite what he said, she couldn’t think of any other explanation for this strangeness than her being a ghost. If they figured out what was happening and found a way to
fix
it, she’d have to leave him.

She’d had enough talking. And she’d lost her enthusiasm for anything more. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? You must be exhausted. I’ll stay as long as I can and keep those nightmares at bay.” She wiggled out from under him, pulled her bra straps back into place, and grabbed her shirt. Forcing a smile, she buttoned up.

Hopefully, he would agree to sleep. He really did need his rest. And she needed to distance herself from the roller-coaster emotions he made her feel. She needed to distance herself from him. Their time together would eventually come to an end. The dead didn’t belong with the living.

She should have known he
r Derek wouldn’t cooperate.

* * * *

“Are you hungry?” Derek asked his dream girl
—DG. What a cute name. Until he helped her learn her real name, he’d be more than happy to call her that.

She fastened the buttons on her shirt, working from the top down to cover those beautiful breasts first. He didn’t blame her. Nothing killed the mood like trying to convince your new girlfriend she wasn’t dead. She looked like she wanted to believe him, but didn’t dare to. He’d spend the rest of the night trying to bring her around.

He didn’t believe she was dead. A dead woman shouldn’t have a pulse, but he’d felt her heartbeat strong and eager against his lips when he’d kissed her right between those perfect breasts. Not to mention, a dead woman shouldn’t be able to come like a screaming banshee. His chest swelled with pride at the memory of her very vocal orgasm—it had been a release of far more than just sexual pleasure. She’d let go of a whole host of fears and worries, and she’d done it because of him.

No, she definitely wasn’t dead. There had to be some other explanation for her being here, and he wouldn’t rest until he figured it out.

DG smoothed the front of her shirt, then hugged her knees. Her toenails were free from polish, like her fingernails. He liked that. She wasn’t flashy. Nothing about her said,
look at me,
find me beautiful.
She simply was beautiful.

But sadness touched her eyes. She tried to hide it from him, but he saw it anyway. It made him ache for her.

“Hungry?” Her brow furrowed as she thought about it. “I’m not sure.”

“How would you like to try eating something? I’ll make you some dinner and serve it to you right here.” He patted the bed, then got up and pulled on a t-shirt.

She glanced at the clock. “It’s one in the morning.”

“So it is.”

Her lips, still plump from his kisses, curved into a small smile. “Most people have already had dinner by one in the morning.”

“Most people don’t spend what should be their waking hours stuck in fog.”

She paled.

He’d taken a stab in the dark, and
he’d been right. She tried to be casual about it, but the haunted look in her eyes when she’d mentioned that fog had clued him in. It was like a prison to her. His chest tightened. He’d do anything to keep her from having to go back there. “How long has it been since you’ve gone outside?”

She looked up, and her expression said it all. She was afraid to believe she could do something as simple as go outside and look up at the moon.

He held out a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go fire up the grill. I’ve got some steaks marinating.”

“Um
—” She twisted her hands in her lap as she knelt in the center of his mattress. “If I get off the bed, you won’t see me. Or hear me. Or feel me.” With each statement, her voice shrank.

“But I’ll know you’re there,” he said. “Come on. I’ll leave all the doors wide open. You can always come back here and call out for me if you need anything.”

Her eyes widened with hope, but her lips pressed in a fearful line.

“Or throw a lamp.”

She smiled, and stopped fidgeting with her hands.

“It’ll be okay.” He took one of those delicate hands and tugged her forward.

“But you need to sleep,” she said even though she kneel-walked to the very edge of the bed.

“Probably.
But I’ll survive without it.” He winked to reassure her. “I’ll find some time to sleep tomorrow.” When she looked at him skeptically, he said, “Promise.”

Her face brightened, and she squeezed his hand. She let one foot down off the bed. He held his breath as their gazes locked and she let her other foot down. Her shorts rasped against the sheets as she stood up.

Then she was gone. She just blinked out of existence, right before his eyes.

His hand suddenly looked ridiculous, hanging out there like he had an invisible dance partner. Was she still holding it? “I miss you already,” he said, choked up with the truth of it.

She appeared again, her hand still in his. Her other hand touched the rumpled sheets. “I’ll stay close. Promise.” Her face shone with excitement. He couldn’t back out now, no matter how strange this was. Besides, he had a plan.

He didn’t have much to go on as far as learning how he could help her, and helping her shared his number-one-priority spot with fixing things between him and Haley. DG didn’t seem to want to talk about the fog or how she’d ended up in his bedroom, of all places, and he couldn’t blame her. If he were in her shoes, he’d probably want to forget everything in the arms of a lover, too. But as much as he wanted this woman in every way he could get her, he couldn’t bring himself to get any
more physical than they already had without some getting-to-know-you time.

Hence, a date, or as close as they could get to one.
And if she could eat, that would tell him something about her. The more information he could scrape together, the better his chances of helping her.

DG slid her hand out of his. “So you don’t feel silly,” she said with an understanding tilt of her head. He lowered his arm, and she disappeared again.

“Okay, sweetheart. Here we go.”

He headed for the kitchen, giddy and awkward. Sharing his living space with her brought an unexpected sense of comfort, but not hearing her footsteps, the rustle of her clothes, her breathing, or the thousand other little sounds a person took for granted when not alone reminded him how eerie this was. He didn’t mind the eeriness. DG needed to get out of his room and live.

Hell, if this worked, maybe tomorrow night, he’d take her for a drive, see if any places nearby sparked her memory.

Mind spinning with possibilities, he pulled the shallow casserole dish with the marinating steaks from the fridge. “I bought these for Haley. Steak and potatoes are her favorite.”
Good thing his neighbors couldn’t see in his windows and see him talking to nobody. He’d laugh at how ridiculous this felt, talking to his invisible girlfriend, if it didn’t make him so damn happy.

He pictured DG leaning on the counter, listening and nodding her encouragement. He knew the exact expression she’d have on her face, the way her lips would purse as they smiled, a little mischievous, a little amused, a little aroused. How could he know something like that? How had she gotten so deep under his skin
in so short a time?

He cleared his throat. “She went through a vegetarian phase last year, but now she’s on meat again. Deidre
—that’s her mom—doesn’t eat carbs, but Haley loves baked potatoes.”

He poked fork holes in the potatoes and stuck them in the microwave for twelve minutes.

Tying on his apron, he scanned the kitchen, wishing he knew where DG was. Shaking his head, he gathered up his grilling tools and unlocked the back door. “But she didn’t want to come over for dinner tonight,” he said, and a stab of guilt hit him in the gut.

He ignored it. Time with DG was too precious to dwell on negative stuff. He flipped on the deck light and opened the door.
“Might as well cook them up for our first date.” Turning back to the kitchen, he tried a smile but felt weird. “Damn, I wish I could see you.”

Humid night air melted around him, and he let himself imagine the faint pressure was DG’s embrace. Just in case it really was, he stood still and closed his eyes, searching with all his senses for any sign of her. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he caught a hint of melon scent, as if she’d nestled her head under his chin.

Sighing, he stepped carefully away and onto the deck. A bare bulb beneath the eaves of the house gave enough light to see by without intruding on the beauty of the night sky. He liked that about living in a medium sized town—seeing the stars at night. Not as many as out in the country, but enough to dream by.