Rebecca Zanetti - Forgotten Sins

Her feet hit the concrete, and her car door slammed shut before she responded. “I’m not telling you squat.” She tried to stomp past him.

He shifted his weight, blocking her path. “I didn’t give you the option.” Not by one inch did he want to intimidate her. But he took a step, forcing the woman to tilt her head to glare at him.

Fury flashed bright red across high cheekbones as her hands went to her hips. “If you think you can show up after two years, with freaking amnesia and order me around, you have another think coming.”

Okay. Not intimidated. The ball of unease uncoiled in his gut as he relaxed. He bit back the grin that wanted loose. “I’m not leaving until I remember everything.”

She inhaled deeply. “Either get out of my way or prepare to be a eunuch.”

The woman was something. Indecision filtered through his brain. Surprise filled him with how much he wanted her cooperation. Her willing trust. He stepped to the side, allowing her to open the door and enter a cheerful kitchen with sparkling stainless steel appliances.

He shut the door behind him and locked it. Was he the good guy or the bad? “Did I teach you to fight?” Instinct whispered that if she was his, even for a little while, he’d have taught her.

“Maybe I taught you,” she muttered, shaking off her jacket to drop over an antique carved chair that matched a round table.

He sighed. The warmth of the room caught him by surprise, making him feel like an overgrown bully. Pretty vases and glasses lined the top of the cupboards, the mix eclectic and somehow calming. Girly magnets of flowers and quotations adorned the refrigerator. The house was a home. “Your place is nice.”

“Thanks.” She eyed the message machine on the uncluttered counter. It blinked with two messages.

“Check your messages, Josie.” He kept the command soft while he wanted to push the button himself. Had the boyfriend called? Anger swept through him at the thought. The muscles at the base of his neck began to ache. That headache was coming back and soon. Who the hell would date a married woman? His woman?

Josie whirled around, unease skittering down her spine. As a husband, Shane had been both possessive and protective. She hadn’t minded—had even felt sheltered and safe. Well, until he’d deserted her. Then she’d missed the sense of belonging. “This isn’t going to work.”

Three steps took her to the antique writing desk tucked into the corner. She’d found it at a garage sale the previous spring and had spent hours sanding and staining the piece after refinishing the kitchen table. From day one, she’d determined to create her own family heirlooms. Even if she stayed alone.

She tugged out papers from the desk, throwing them against the Pottery Barn bowl that held apples on the table. The man was too tempting, and she was still damaged. Protecting her heart was her job, not his. “Sign the papers, and then you need to leave.”

He lifted his gaze, those gray eyes that could blaze with passion or freeze with anger. For now, those windows shuttered closed. “No.”

Exasperation caught a scream in her throat. It took every ounce of control she had to shove it back down. She’d wanted to do this the right way, the respectful way. A way that demonstrated they’d meant something to each other. Even though their marriage had ended, even though he’d left, enough had been there to end it right. “That’s not an option.” She tried to keep her chin from tilting as she threw his words back in his face.

A spark flared in his eyes. His gaze swept her body top to bottom, pausing several times on the journey. The air in the room thickened.

The moment slammed a hard awareness into her solar plexus. She’d imagined him in the comfortable home, looking at her like that.

Like he had when they’d lived together.

Her feet stuck to the floor. She couldn’t look away from his high cheekbones, straight nose, and the full lips she hadn’t touched in two years. His thick hair had grown to his shoulders. Her fingers itched to touch. But she frowned. The military had let him grow his hair that long?

Holding her gaze, he stalked forward as graceful as any jungle cat. Slow and sure—closing the distance between them until she inhaled his scent of heated cedar. A hum began in her abdomen. Heat flushed along her skin.

One of his thick knuckles lifted her chin. She should step back. Away from danger. But something… something kept her still. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was hope that she could still feel on fire. Her limbs grew heavy. Too heavy to move. Her heart rate picked up.

Slowly, so slowly they both knew she had eons to move away, he lowered his head. His lips brushed hers. Firm, knowing, so hot. Once, twice, and then a third time.

A moan fluttered in her throat.

He stepped into her, one hand clenching her hip and the other angling her chin. Fire. His tongue shot past her lips, taking. One movement and he tugged her against his hard body, forcing her curves to accommodate his larger size, to accept him, to cushion the firm ridge of an erection digging into her skin. Need rippled through her so fast she shivered. Her sex softened. Her nipples pebbled.

The hand on her chin moved and tethered her hair as he destroyed her mouth. The familiar taste of him flayed her heart. His mouth released hers to press wet, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw to her neck.

So fast.

So hard.

So demanding.

She gasped for air, her mind spinning. Her knees weakening. Shane.

He kissed lower, dipping his face in the V of her shirt, pushing the material aside to nuzzle the tops of her breasts. A low hum of male appreciation echoed against her skin. She slid both hands through his thick hair, tugging him closer. Heat filled her. A ringing began in her ears. Her body leapt to life. For the first time in two years, she craved.

Suddenly, he shifted again, cupping her ass and lifting her against him. She gasped as her feet left the ground. Her legs automatically circled his waist.

This was crazy… and she truly didn’t care. More. She needed more.

Her body had been asleep for two years and suddenly felt awake. Alive.

The demanding hardness of his cock pressed against her core. His mouth returned to demolish hers, his strong hands working her body against his. Held aloft, she moaned and pressed her thighs against his hips, rubbing against him. Needing. Finally, he lifted his head.

His kiss was harder and more insistent than in their earlier life together. He’d always been so careful—so gentle. Something wild and new cascaded from him now. Excitement flared inside her chest. For once he was treating her as an equal. As a woman and not as something fragile he needed to shield.

Possession. It glittered in his gray eyes along with need. Desire. Promise. She should think. Shouldn’t she think?

“Josie. Either tell me where the bedroom is, or I’m taking you on the floor.” Low, almost guttural, his voice caressed the raw nerves all but begging for his touch.

Dazed, she opened her mouth to speak. The shrill of the phone made her jump. She shook her head. Reality. Where was reality? The phone rang again.

Shane’s eyes narrowed. His grip tightened on her ass, pulling her sex harder against his. She moaned. His dangerous gaze kept her captive.

The phone rang again.

Then her voice telling the caller to leave a message.

Then… Tom. “Hi, beautiful. How about dinner tonight?”

The air chilled ten degrees. Maybe more. Tension ripped through the once-peaceful kitchen. This was bad. Disastrous. Josie released Shane’s hair and slammed her hands against his chest, trying to unhinge her legs from around his hips.

He held her in place.

“You’re hurting me,” she whispered. He wasn’t, not even close, but the words would make him release her.

“Then stop moving.” Not an ounce of give showed on his face.

She blinked several times. Shock kept her body immobile. The Shane she’d known would’ve set her immediately and safely to her feet.

Tom’s voice droned on in the background, detailing late dinner plans. She had to shut off the machine. Josie struggled, fighting to drop to the floor. She’d almost had sex with Shane. Two more seconds and—

“No.” Shane’s jaw hardened to rock. His eyes darkened to slate.

Panic. Danger. Violence. Josie stilled, her gaze captured by the anger in Shane’s. So much. Her lungs compressed. In all the time they’d spent together, not once had she been afraid of him.

Until now.

The machine clicked off.

The seconds ticked by as her heart rammed against her ribs. His gaze kept hers. No expression showed on his savage features, no glimmer in those eyes. She suppressed a shiver. Who was this man? Slowly, almost gently, Shane lowered her to the floor, holding her shoulders until she’d steadied herself. Then he took two steps back.

A chill ran over her arms, and she rubbed trembling palms against goose bumps. How in the world had she let this happen? She hadn’t ever tried to stop him. Even now, her body ached. For Shane. He was different this time. Not in control, not hiding his feelings. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Shane tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. So he wouldn’t reach for her again? “You’re not going to dinner.”

Well, no shit. She cleared her throat. “I’ve built a good life here, Shane.” No way was she letting him tear it down. Not again. Never again.

Maybe if she repeated the mantra enough, she’d believe the words.