Repressed (Deadly Secrets)

  “God, you feel good.” He kissed her jaw, trailed his lips to her ear, drew the lobe into his mouth, and sucked.

  He felt good too. But she couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t get her lips and tongue and mouth to work together. Sensations rocked her as he nibbled at her throat, as he continued to drive into her again and again until everything but him faded to the background.

  She dropped her head back. Slid her hands into his hair. Clenched around him with every thrust. He shifted to the other side of her throat, nipped at a sensitive spot. Pain arced through her. Then he suckled, running his tongue over her skin until there was nothing but pleasure. And the combination—his thick, heavy thrusts along with the sweet tantalizing suction of his mouth—pushed her right over the edge. A hot, fast punch of ecstasy made her cry out, made every muscle in her body shake with her release.

  He groaned against her neck, and in an instant she was on her back, cool hardwood pressing against her spine, hard, firm male at her front.

  “One more time.” His mouth found hers again. He braced one hand on the floor near her head, used the other to push one knee back so he could drive deeper.

  Sam groaned. Held on. Sweat slicked her skin. Mingled with his. The fire built again with every plunge, with every wild stroke of his soft tongue against hers.

  “Come with me,” he mouthed against her.

  She didn’t have a choice. His muscles flexed, and she closed around him, tighter. And when he let go, she went with him, feeling the pulse of him so deep inside, she was sure he had to be touching her heart.

  They collapsed against the floor. His hot breath washed over her shoulder. Slowly, she became aware of his weight against her, pressing her into the hardwood, but it didn’t hurt. If anything, it felt good. Perfect. Right.

  Her fingers streaked up into his hair, twirling the ends of the silky locks as the last threads of pleasure trickled through her.

  God, she could get used to this. Ethan McClane didn’t just make love. He made a woman completely lose sense of time and place and purpose.

  “I’m hurting you, aren’t I?” he said against her shoulder.

  Wrapping one leg around his so he couldn’t get away, she sighed. “Not at all. I like this.”

  “Good, because I don’t think I can move just yet.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. She loved that she’d wrecked him just as hard as he’d wrecked her.

  Her fingertips slid over his shoulders as he relaxed into her. Sliding her foot down his calf, she held on to him, enjoying the moment. But her toe hit something rough, and she blinked several times, watching the aged ceiling dotted with water stains come into view. A giggle moved through her when she realized what she’d found.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re still wearing your dress socks.” She lifted her head and twisted to the side to see over his shoulder. “Very sexy, Dr. McClane.”

  He trailed one hand down her side, sending shivers all across her skin. “And you’re still wearing those ice picks, Ms. Parker. Now that’s sexy.”

  “I’m glad you approve. They made the outfit, don’t you think?”

  He pushed up on one hand and looked down her naked body. “Oh yeah.”

  Her skin warmed under his heated stare, and desire hummed in her veins all over again. She drew in a slow breath. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Dr. McClane, but I think I like it.”

  His gaze lifted to her face, and one corner of his lips tipped up in a sexy smirk. “If memory serves, I think you liked it more than once.”

  “I’m pretty sure I liked it three times, which, for me, is a first.”

  His grin widened. “Is that unusual?” Pleasure arced in his green eyes. “It’s purely chauvinistic of me, but you just made my day. We’ll have to think about giving you four next time.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Does that mean you’re staying tonight?”

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  Want him to rock her world again? Absolutely. Want him to spend the entire night? That was something altogether different. Nerves rushed in, replacing all that sultry heat.

  There was a reason she didn’t get involved in relationships. Ethan thought it was fear holding her back, but it wasn’t. It was self-preservation. If he stayed, and she had one of those horrendous nightmares, he’d see it. She risked opening herself up, baring her soul, and she didn’t want to do that. But she wasn’t ready for him to leave yet either.

  Maybe she’d get lucky. Maybe sleeping in his arms would protect her from the dark.

  Or maybe she could find a way to stay awake all night instead.

  Decision warred inside her as she ran a finger along the crescent-shaped scar near his eyebrow. And though common sense urged her to be safe, desire—tonight at least—was stronger. “I want you to stay.”

  Relief swept over his features. “Good.” His hand closed over hers, and he brought her knuckles to his lips for the softest, sweetest kiss. “Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  Her heart turned at the gentle touch. And she knew right then that if she didn’t keep this casual, she was doomed.

  “There’s just one thing,” she said, working like hell to steady her voice so he didn’t see her fear.

  His eyes twinkled as he gazed down at her. “Anything.”

  “Lose the socks.”

  A wide, wicked, ravenous grin spread across his lips. “Done.”

  A soft brush against his leg roused Ethan in the dark of night. Eyes closed, he ran his hand down Samantha’s hair where she lay sleeping against him, her cheek pressed to his chest, her fingers resting over his heart.

  They’d finally made it to her bed, where she’d continued to taunt and tease and drive him wild with those clever hands, with that tantalizing mouth. Every muscle in his body felt wrung out, and he knew he was going to be sore tomorrow, but he didn’t care. It would be a good sore. The best kind of sore.

  Her hand moved against his chest, causing Ethan’s eyes to flutter open. Streetlights outside reflected off the snowy sky, casting an eerie orange light through the thin curtains.

  He closed his eyes again, but his thoughts drifted to the party. To seeing Saunders and Branson and Kellogg all in the same room together. To watching Samantha stand so close to them. She didn’t have a clue what the three were capable of. At some point he needed to warn her, but he didn’t know how to do that without unleashing a firestorm he wasn’t ready to explain.

  Her leg grazed his again. Her fingertips brushed his chest. A low moan slipped from her lips.

  Realizing he’d tensed and that she must have felt it, he forced his muscles to relax and brushed a hand down the length of her hair.

  Her arm twitched. “No,” she mumbled against him. “Don’t want to look.”

  “Shh.” Ethan smoothed his palm down her arm and kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

  Her knee jerked upward, and, reflexively, Ethan shifted so she didn’t knee him in the groin.

  “They’re hurting her,” she whispered. Against his skin, her pulse jumped. “Can’t you hear it?”

  Ethan wrapped both arms around Samantha and pulled her close, hoping to soothe her back to sleep. “There’s no one here. You’re okay.”

  “Make them stop.” Her breaths quickened. She pressed against his side and shoved hard, backing away from him on the mattress.

  “Samantha.” Ethan eased his hold and sat up.

  Her eyes flew open. Only they weren’t the sexy, playful eyes he’d looked into earlier. These were wide, unfocused, and a little bit wild. In a tangle of arms and legs, she kicked out and scrambled off the bed.

  “No. No. No.” She darted into the shadows in the corner of the room and sank to the floor.

  Ethan’s heart beat hard as he stared at her trembling in the shadowy corner.

  Slowly, so as not to spook her, he eased out of the bed and carefully crossed the floor. She sat slumped aga
inst the wall, her knees drawn up, her head buried in her hands, her naked body shaking in the dark.

  He knelt in front of her, careful not to touch her just yet. His brothers had dealt with their fair share of nightmares in the past, and he’d witnessed some pretty bad ones growing up, but none had been like this. “Samantha, it’s okay. It’s just me, Ethan. You’re in your room. You’re completely safe.”

  A tiny sob echoed from the corner. And the agonizing sound was all Ethan could handle.

  “I’m going to touch your arm,” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Cautiously, he reached for her. And the second he made contact, the muscles in her arm flexed and went rigid. But as he ran his thumb over her skin, she slowly relaxed.

  “You’re okay,” he whispered. “It’s just me, Ethan. You’re totally safe with me. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you.”

  Her hand turned over and closed around his. But she didn’t lift her head from her knees. “Ethan.”

  “Yeah. It’s just me. You’re okay, Samantha.”

  She turned into his arms in one quick movement, burying her face against his chest, and holding on for dear life. Her body trembled against his, her skin cold and slicked with sweat. He held her tighter, hoping to transfuse some of his warmth to her, hoping to alleviate her fears. Hoping to alleviate some of his too.

  What was she remembering? He had a sickening feeling this wasn’t just a nightmare, that it went deeper. Something terrible had backed her into that corner like a frightened animal.

  Warm, wet tears fell against his bare shoulder, and she whispered, “Don’t let go of me, Ethan.”

  His heart contracted. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.”

  She shifted in his arms. Lifted her head. And then her mouth was on his, drawing him into a hard, swift kiss that seemed to come out of nowhere.

  “Make love with me,” she whispered against his mouth. Her fingers slid into his hair, and she rose to her knees, pressing her body closer to his. “Just make me forget.”

  Ethan was willing to do anything to take that haunted sound out of her voice. He pulled her to her feet, then swept her off the floor and carried her back to the bed, kissing her as he moved.

  He laid her out on the sheets. She immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to her, not giving him any chance to draw away. Lifting her mouth to his once more, she whispered, “Don’t let go.”

  Ethan let her drag him with her into bliss, afraid it was already too late for him. He was pretty sure he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

  Steam swirled in the bathroom as Sam bent at the waist, ran a dry towel over her head, and shook the water from her hair. Straightened, she rubbed her wrist across the mirror to clear the condensation and gazed at her reflection.

  Damp curls hung around her face and bruises marred the skin beneath her bloodshot eyes. She looked like she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, which wasn’t far off the mark. Between Ethan’s delicious touch and that horrendous dream, she was pretty sure she’d slept an hour, tops.

  Her eyes slid closed, and mortification rolled through her. She never should have let him stay. She’d been foolish to think she could keep the nightmares away. And now that he’d seen what a hysterical mess she was firsthand, it was no wonder he’d already left. By the time she’d dragged her eyes open, his clothes, his coat, even his car had been gone.

  Mortification shifted to a blistering disappointment, one that grabbed hold of her heart and squeezed hard. This was why she didn’t get involved in relationships. Because men didn’t like needy, hysterical women. They wanted fun, carefree girls with zero baggage. Not ones who cried and begged and freaked out over something as stupid as a dream.

  Lifting her hands to her face, she drew a deep breath and told herself it was all for the best. Life was simpler without a man. She was better off without the sexy shrink. She just hoped someday soon she could believe it.

  The scent of frying bacon drifted in the air, forcing her eyes open. Sam dropped her hands and looked toward her bedroom. She didn’t have bacon in the house.

  Tossing her towel on the bed, she pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Tiptoeing across the upper floor, she reached the banister, moved halfway down the stairs, and peeked through the railing into the kitchen. Ethan stood at the stove, dressed in the wrinkled slacks and dress shirt he’d worn last night, flipping bacon in a pan with a fork.

  Her heart rate ticked up. He hadn’t left. Not for good, at least. He’d gone to the store and come back.

  She bit her lip, thought about going back up to her room and hiding, but quickly decided against it. She needed to face this head-on, no matter the outcome.

  Ethan looked up and smiled as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Good morning, sleepy.”

  “Hi.” Nerves vibrated, and she clasped her hands behind her back so he couldn’t see. His dress shirt was open at the collar, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A shiver of awareness rushed over her at the memory of those strong hands sliding along her body, but she beat it back so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself yet again.

  “Hungry?”

  Her gaze skipped to the eggs that were almost done frying, the bacon he was lifting out of the pan, and the toast he’d already buttered. Oh man, he’d come back because he felt sorry for her. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Coffee’s ready. Why don’t you pour yourself a cup while I plate this all up?”

  And he’d made coffee. He really felt sorry for her.

  Stepping quickly past him, she moved for the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen, grasped a cup from the cupboard, and opened the fridge for the creamer. Then stilled when she peered inside.

  Fruit, cheese, several containers of yogurt, and a gallon of milk graced the top shelf. Below sat a couple of steaks and beside them, bags of fresh veggies.

  Sam’s eyes widened. “You didn’t just run to the corner market.”

  “You need to eat better, Samantha. Coffee, wine, and a container of something that looks like one of your science experiments is not a healthy diet.”

  “It was Chinese. From last week.”

  “Honey, the Chinese wouldn’t eat that. Trust me.”

  Warmth circled Sam’s heart, and she smiled the same way she always smiled when Ethan teased her. And, in a rush, all those nerves she’d been trying to contain relaxed.

  Moving to the counter, she poured cream into her cup, then replaced it in the fridge. By the time she stirred her coffee and turned, Ethan was already filling two plates with the breakfast he’d made.

  “Sit,” he said.

  Sam slid into a chair at her mother’s old dinged-up table and tucked one leg under her while Ethan set a plate of food in front of her.

  “Better than week-old Chinese.” Sitting in the chair next to hers, he lifted his fork and nodded at her plate. “Dive in.”

  Sam reached for her fork as he started eating, but a lump formed in her throat before she could take a bite, and her gaze drifted toward his strong, square jaw and his sexy tousled dark hair.

  God, she liked this. Liked spending the night curled in his arms, liked finding him in her kitchen at dawn. She liked his easy, gentle nature, liked the way he made her feel safe, liked everything about him. But most of all she liked that he had this innate way of calming her. She could be ready to bounce off the walls, but one smile from him settled her in a way nothing ever had before.

  He glanced up. “You’re not hungry? After last night you have to be hungry.”

  Sam’s cheeks heated with the memory of his body moving over hers, inside hers, but she bit her lip, still unable to eat.

  After several seconds of silence, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Why are you still here, Ethan? Any sane person would have cut and run at first light.”

  He reached for his coffee. “I have to tell you a secret, Samantha.”

  Her eyes widened, and she held her
breath while he took a sip, almost afraid to hear what he had to say.

  He set his mug back down on the table. “I’m not entirely sane. Every shrink I’ve ever met—and I say this from a clinical perspective—teeters on the tightrope of sanity. We’re just really good at hiding it.”

  The breath she’d been holding whooshed out, and she closed her eyes and smiled because he’d just done it again. Eased every bit of fear and anxiety inside her with one look.

  “I’m telling the truth. Ask any shrink.”

  Sam laughed. “You said you weren’t a shrink. You corrected me with the term ‘therapist.’”

  “I’m a professional. I’m able to use whatever label suits me.”

  Still smiling, Sam shook her head, but the smile turned to a frown when she realized he was making this too easy. She opened her eyes and looked up. “You aren’t even going to ask, are you?”

  “No. I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would. And for the record”—he laid his hand over hers on the table—“I stayed because I wanted to stay. Because last night was amazing. A thousand times more amazing than I’d imagined. One bad dream doesn’t change that.”

  There he went. Making her feel normal when she was anything but.

  “That wasn’t just a bad dream, and you know it. I don’t have nightmares like that all the time, but when I do, they can be bad. I should have warned you. I thought with you here I wouldn’t . . . ” She shook her head because she knew she was rambling. “I should have known better.”

  His finger moved softly over the back of her hand. “When was the last time you had one?”

  God, she liked his touch. More than she probably should. “I hadn’t had one for a long time. But then after I moved home, they picked up again.”

  “Do you remember them?”

  She nodded.

  “Always the same, or different?”

  “The same. Every time.”

  It was stupid. Talking out her nightmares with a shrink had always embarrassed and humiliated her, which was part of the reason she’d thrown in the towel and decided never to see one again. But with Ethan she didn’t feel either of those things. She felt safe. She always felt safe with him.