Rogue Rider (Lords of Deliverance) (25 page)

He laid her on the bed a lot less roughly than he could have—would have, if this had been any other night. But he’d experienced a shift today, a one-two punch of reality and emotion. He’d faced the fact that he wasn’t going to find out who he was, and the Amnesia Boy bullshit had driven that home. It was time to stop worrying about the past and make new memories.

With Jillian.

Jillian, who had saved his life, taken care of him, made him laugh, given him an anchor when he should have been drifting.

Reseph stripped off his shirt and joined her on the bed, and when she sat up to meet him, he pushed her back down and covered her body with his. Their gazes locked, and Reseph’s pulse thundered in his ears. When Jillian’s palm came up to his chest, the heat of her touch spread through him, sizzling over his skin.

Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her, somehow taking it slow and leisurely, as if they weren’t both ready to go into orbit. He undressed her, breaking off the kiss only when he pulled off her shirt or shoved down her jeans. When they were both naked, skin on skin, he kept his hands to rated PG parts of her body, stroking her shoulders, her neck, her arms.

She didn’t play like that. No, Jillian’s nails scored his back before dropping to his ass, where she dug her fingers into his cheeks as she rocked against him, grinding her mound against his erection. They both groaned at that, but he wasn’t ready yet.

Well, he was ready physically, but not mentally. He needed to be thorough, attentive, possessive.

Jillian was his, and she was going to know it when he was done.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he let his other hand drift up her rib cage. He stroked the curve of her breast, feeling the skin tighten beneath his palm. His thumb circled her nipple, and the impassioned whimper breaking from her throat said she liked it.

“I need you to believe me,” he murmured against her lips, “trust me when I say that I’ve never made love to a woman. Not like this.” The knowledge was soul-deep, not even a question, and he needed Jillian to understand.

“I believe you. And I’ve never had a man make me feel so special.” She arched under him, hooking one ankle over his leg and rubbing her foot seductively along his calf.

He looked into her eyes, determined to make sure she understood what he was about to say. “You’re more than special. I love you, Jillian. I love you, and I want this to be the start of something new.”

Her foot stilled on his leg. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t care who or what I was in the past.” The vision he’d had in the barn tunneled up from where he’d buried it in his mind, but he ruthlessly slammed it back into its dark hole. Whatever he’d been before had no place in his new life. “I don’t want to know anymore. I’m going to stop looking.”

Both hands came up to frame his face. “Oh, Reseph, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask.” He rubbed his cheek against her palm, thinking he’d never felt anything so soft as her skin. “I’m doing it. I love this life, I love you, and I want to start our lives together now.”

“You’re… serious.”

“Can you handle not knowing who I was?” He nipped the sensitive skin between her thumb and forefinger before laving it with his tongue. “Can you deal with the man I am now?”

“Yes,” she whispered in a husky rasp. “Oh, yes.”

“Good,” he said, lowering his mouth to her throat. “Because the man I am now is who I want to be. Forever.”

At Reseph’s admission, Jillian’s heart thundered against what remained of the wall that surrounded it. Since the day Reseph had arrived, the wall had been cracking, and each passing day saw the fissures deepen. Now this wonderful man had committed himself to her, leaving behind his past and making her his future. No man had ever given up anything for her, and as her heartbeat knocked down the last shard of barrier that stood between her and surrender, she thanked her good fortune.

Before Reseph, the independent woman in her would have railed against any man telling her she was his, but with him it seemed natural, respectful.

And oh, so sexy.

And speaking of sexy, Reseph concentrated kisses on her throat, each one moving a fraction of an inch lower, his lips following her jugular to the base of her neck. Desire spiraled through her, growing more and more out of control with every passing second. Yet Reseph still wasn’t touching her where she needed to be touched.

The man was a sadist. A master of torture. His erection sat heavily against her sex, but no matter how much she writhed, he didn’t make a move to enter her. She ached, burned,
wanted
.

“So impatient,” he murmured against her clavicle.

“I’m not
impatient
.” She thrust her hands into his gorgeous, silky hair to guide his mouth lower, which totally made her a liar. “You’ve been teasing me since the bar. I’m
ready
.”

His husky chuckle accompanied his hand dipping between her legs and finding her slick wetness. “Oh, yeah, you’re ready.” His lips trailed over the mound of her breast, and his tongue came out to taste her nipple. “I love how you respond to me. Only me.” That last bit came out as a carnal growl, and a rush of liquid lust dampened her core. He growled again, slipping two fingers inside her.

Lost to pleasure, she threw her head back and concentrated on breathing as his fingers worked their magic. He covered her breast with his mouth, drawing against her nipple, his warm tongue swirling and caressing. The combination of his fingers thrusting inside her and his mouth suckling her breast was intoxicating. She felt drunk with sensation, almost overwhelmed, because all of this was so much more than physical.

Reseph was pouring emotion into every slow caress, every smoldering kiss, every honeyed, reverent endearment he whispered against her skin.
Beautiful. Amazing. Mine
. There were even a few words mixed in that she didn’t recognize but understood anyway. He was taking her. Marking her. Even if, afterward, she didn’t have a single scratch, bite, or ache, he’d have left his mark indelibly in her mind and heart.

His fingers pumped faster, taking her higher. “That’s it,” he rasped against her breast. “God, I love the way you move.”

He feathered his thumb over her clit, just skimming the crest. She cried out with both pleasure and frustration. He
did it again, this time with more pressure, and her cry was louder.

“Please,” she gasped. “Now.”

A rattling purr erupted from his chest as he shifted to nudge her thighs wide with his legs. He looked down, watching his hand working her, and that purr went deeper. He twisted his fingers and stroked his thumb through her slit, pressing lightly on her knot of nerves… pressing, not moving, and oh, God,
yes
…

She shouted in total abandon, bucking into his touch, riding the climax he’d coaxed out of her with teasing touches, hot talk, and sweet pledges. The orgasm seemed to go on and on, and even before the throbbing fire had completely waned, Reseph was on his knees between her legs, his erection curved into his abs as he reached for a condom. His fingers still caressed her sex, but with delicate, indirect strokes.

His gaze smoldered, never leaving her face. He tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth, and in a smooth feat of one-handed dexterity, he removed the condom and rolled it over his straining length. His muscles flexed as he prowled forward over her body, covering her, putting the tip of his cock at her entrance.

Still keeping eye contact, he slid inside her. “I love you,” he said on a breathy moan.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

A smile ruffled his mouth, and then he closed his eyes and thrust his hips slowly. So damned slowly. How did he have such control? She’d already come once, taking the edge off, but she was still worked up enough to want to get things moving.

Pulling up her legs, she wrapped them around his waist, clinging to him fiercely. His pace picked up, the hot friction
sparking bolts of ecstasy deep inside her. She clenched around him and he groaned, moving faster. His entire body undulated over her, every muscle tense and rippling, the tendons in his neck standing out starkly.

She was almost there, her body craving another peak. She panted at the upward momentum, the heat between them, the raw, animal lust. Her heart hammered violently, and her breaths came in short, choppy bursts.

“Jillian,” he gasped. “You feel… so… good…” He threw his head back, baring his teeth, pounding into her. “I feel you… coming.”

She went over the edge with him, his shout mingling with hers. A firestorm of pleasure seared her from the inside out.

“My… God,” he groaned, his hips still pumping in spastic twitches. His eyes were mere slits as he sagged on top of her, burying his face in her neck. His breaths were harsh against her skin, but his hands were gentle as he stroked her face, her hair, her shoulders.

Every muscle in her body had turned to Jell-O, but she held him tight, tapping strength from some hidden reserve.

“Thank you,” she said into his hair. “You’ve given me so much.”

With a grunt, he rolled off her, but he didn’t get out of bed. He tucked her against him, twining his legs with hers. “I haven’t given you nearly enough.” He kissed her forehead. “But I’ll start working on that.”

Her chest swelled with happiness. “And tomorrow… I guess today, really, let’s go get a Christmas tree. I haven’t celebrated a proper holiday since my parents died. So let’s start off our new life with Christmas.”

He smiled. “It’ll be sort of like my first.”

“Mine too,” she whispered. “Mine too.”

Reseph woke to the sound of a scream. He bolted upright, reaching for Jillian, but her side of the bed was empty. Hoping to God he’d been dreaming, he scrambled out of bed and tugged on his jeans. And then… another scream. Jillian’s scream.

Instant, bone-chilling terror and panic ripped through him. Barefoot, he charged through the house and tore open the front door with such force that it snapped the hinges.

Jillian was standing on the porch, face pale, eyes wide. A few yards away, Ares, Thanatos, and Limos were lined up, armored, and mounted on their horses.

“My brothers!” Grinning like a fool, his heart bounding with sudden excitement, he started for them. “Limos!”

“Reseph?” Jillian’s voice was shaken.

“It’s okay,” he said, giving her arm a rub as he walked past. “It’s my family. I can’t wait for you to meet them. Come on.”

“You… you remember?”

“Yup.” Freaky, but yeah, it was all coming back to him.

He took the steps down in two strides, but even as he hit the snowy ground below, he realized something was wrong. No one looked happy to see him. In fact, their expressions ranged from wary distrust, to downright hate in Thanatos’s case. What the hell—

A memory struck him like one of Jillian’s frying pans… Thanatos, holding him down, jamming Deliverance into his chest as nearby, a baby cried. But why…?

More memories came at him, rapid-fire, like bullets from an automatic weapon. His head snapped back as a wall of horror blindsided him. He stumbled, his equilibrium thrown off by the weight of the sudden recollections.

Blood. Screams. Hate… so much hate. The world spun, the ground giving way beneath him, and he crashed to his knees, clutching his head. Hands came down on his back… Jillian’s. She was speaking, asking if he was okay. Asking what was wrong, but he couldn’t speak. More screams… the screams of those he’d hurt. Countless numbers of them. Oh…
God
.

“No,” he rasped. “Oh… please, no.”

His stomach turned over, and he lurched, half-crawled, half-stumbled away from her and to the nearest tree, where everything he’d eaten in the last week, month, maybe year, came up. He lost it. Lost everything. Including, possibly, his mind.