Repressed (Deadly Secrets)

  More, more, more . . . They were the only words she heard, echoing in her head again and again. Dropping her hands, she made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, then pulled the garment free of his slacks and scrambled for the button at his waistband.

  “Dammit, Samantha,” he mumbled again as she shoved her hands into both sides of his pants. Only this time the words held no heat.

  She loved the raspy sound of his voice. Loved that she had the power to push him to the edge. Pulling her mouth from his, she lowered to her knees, tugged off his shoes and socks, and unhooked the button on his slacks.

  Ethan pressed a hand against the door above as she trailed her hands up the backs of his strong legs, pulled his wallet free, then yanked off his pants. “Samantha, I—”

  His words morphed into a groan as she drew his erection into her mouth. He dropped his head back, flexed his hips forward, searching for more. Working him deep, she ran her tongue all around the head, then released the pressure and did it again.

  She pushed him to the brink with her mouth, loving that she could give him this after all the heartache she’d caused him. Wanted—no, needed—him to know what he meant to her, even if she couldn’t say the words.

  “Samantha.” His hands found her shoulders. “You have to stop.” He pushed her away, then lifted her to her feet and pressed her back against the door. “I need you.”

  Sam’s heart expanded as his mouth claimed hers again, greedy, hot, his probing tongue sending arousal pulsing through every part of her body.

  She moaned when he pulled away, then shivered when she realized he was reaching for his wallet. A wrapper tore. His wallet hit the ground with a thud. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she hooked one leg around his hip and kissed him while he rolled on the condom. Then she trembled as he tugged her panties to the side and plunged deep.

  Pleasure coursed through her. She lifted her hips, rocked to meet every thrust. Her hands darted into his hair, fisting the soft strands with a mixture of desire and greed she hadn’t known was in her. Kissing him deeper, she took everything he gave, wanted more of this. Needed only him.

  “Samantha . . . ” He pulled back, rested his forehead against hers, braced one hand on the door as he held her up with the other and drove deeper.

  Ecstasy teased her senses, but she held back, wanting him to come with her, wanting to watch his passion build. His features drew tight, his muscles hard everywhere their bodies touched. And as her gaze swept over his handsome face, she couldn’t stop her chest from tightening to the point of pain.

  She was going to get hurt in this. Worse than she ever imagined. Because they weren’t just tumbling into a relationship. She was falling in love with him. In a way that didn’t just leave her open and vulnerable, it scared her to death.

  “Oh God so good . . . ” He swelled inside her, plunged deep again and again. And when he groaned, his orgasm trigged hers, sending pulsing contractions to echo all through her body, even into her soul.

  He slumped against her, his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths, his slick skin sticking to hers. And she loved it. Loved being close to him. Just wanted him.

  He turned his head against her shoulder and sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to fight with you, Samantha.”

  “I don’t want to fight with you either, Ethan.”

  He lifted his head and looked down at her, his face flushed from both pleasure and exertion. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

  His green eyes softened with so much emotion that her heart sped up until it felt like it might fly right out of her chest. Forget falling in love with him. She already did love him. And she didn’t have a clue how she was going to protect her heart now.

  Swallowing hard, she looked down at the stray hairs dotting his chest and trailed her fingers over his collarbone. “Do you have to go back to Portland tonight?”

  “No.”

  Relief was as sweet as wine. “I need to pick up Grimly from the vet, but I—I don’t really want to be alone in this house tonight.”

  “Are you asking me to stay?”

  She met his gaze. And knew there was no way she could protect her heart now. All she could do was hold on for the ride. And hope it didn’t break her before the end.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I want you to stay. If, that is, you want to stay with me.”

  “Samantha.” He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear in a way that was so tender her heart filled all over again. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be tonight than right here with you. There’s just one thing.”

  “What?”

  “The next time you find a dead body in your house, call me. First.”

  He was making a joke. He always knew how to lighten the moment and make her feel better. Relaxing into him, she leaned toward his mouth. “I promise.”

  And she would. Because as she wrapped her arms around him and lost herself in his kiss once more, she hoped there was nowhere else he’d ever rather be.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sam stared at the aged ceiling in her bedroom and tried to stay still so she wouldn’t wake Ethan beside her.

  It didn’t work. Her legs kept twitching, and she couldn’t keep them still. She was exhausted beyond reason, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Margaret’s body, that cabin, had flashes of her horrible dream. And though she loved having Ethan next to her, not even wild sex had been enough to make her relax.

  As quietly as she could, she tossed back the covers and eased out of bed. Not wanting to make noise looking for something to wear, she opted for Ethan’s dress shirt from the floor and pulled it on. At the door, she glanced back to make sure he was still sleeping. Sure enough, he lay as still as he’d been since drifting to sleep, his bare chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his dark hair brushing his temples, and those insanely thick lashes skimming the soft skin beneath his eyes.

  She couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever looked or felt that relaxed. Really wished she knew his secret so she could stop her brain from spinning and finally get some rest.

  Drawing a breath, she closed the door and made her way down the hall. At the bottom of the stairs she swept past the closed double doors that lead to the dining room and headed for the kitchen.

  She was never going to be able to look in that room again. She needed to sell this house quickly. Of course, when that happened, there would be nothing rooting her to this town. She could quit her job and leave, as she’d planned, only running back to California didn’t hold the appeal it had days ago. Because running didn’t just mean leaving this town behind, it meant leaving Ethan as well.

  Grimly’s tail thumped against the blankets she’d made into a bed near the smoldering fire, pulling at Sam’s attention as she stepped into the kitchen. She crossed toward him and sank to the floor at his side.

  “Hey, buddy.” She rubbed his ears. “How’s my best guy doing?”

  Grimly groaned, lifted his chin, and rested it on her knee.

  “That bad, huh?” She scratched below his ear where he liked it best. “The vet said you’ll be good as new in a day or two. Just have to give it time.” When he groaned again, she moved to his other ear. “I know. You don’t like being told what to do. But trust me, this will all be over soon, and you’ll be chasing rabbits in the woods before you know it.”

  “Hey.”

  Sam glanced up at the sound of Ethan’s soft voice. He stood in the doorway to the hall wearing nothing but wrinkled black slacks riding low on his hips. His eyes were sleepy, his dark hair mussed from her fingers. Firelight illuminated the muscles in his chest and the thatch of dark hair running down his abdomen that she’d traced earlier with her fingers and lips. And even though she was exhausted and stressed and still worried about Grimly, a burst of arousal singed her nerve endings, reminding her that he was the one shining light in the darkness of her life. Reminding her pushing him away had been the stupidest thing she?
??d ever done.

  “Hey.” She drew her hand down Grimly’s back. “I tried not to wake you.”

  “You didn’t.” The old, scarred boards creaked under his feet as he crossed the room and settled on the floor behind her. He stretched both of his long legs around her and pulled her back into the heat of his body. Brushing her hair to the side, he pressed his lips against her nape and wrapped his arms around her waist. “It was the cold bed that got me up.”

  Tingles raced across Sam’s skin wherever he touched. She tipped her head to the side so he could kiss her again, closed her eyes, and sighed. Yes, this was much better than stressing and worrying and pushing him away.

  Resting his chin on her shoulder, he reached around her and rubbed Grimly’s head. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “You’re exhausted, Samantha. You need to rest.”

  “I was worried about Grimly.”

  “He’s going to be fine. You heard the vet earlier.”

  “Yeah.” She rubbed a finger down Grimly’s wet nose, her throat growing thick. “I know.”

  “You know, considering everything you’ve been through, it’s normal to feel stressed and anxious. Anyone would.”

  He was right, and while her instincts urged her to agree and keep quiet, she didn’t want to do that anymore. Not with him. He made her feel safe. He’d come back to her when he had every reason to walk away. And if she held back now, she knew she’d fall right back into the old trap of shutting down. She owed him more than that.

  “I know they would. But this—what I’m feeling—it isn’t just about Grimly or Margaret or even Thomas. I wanted to tell you about it all yesterday when I called, but I couldn’t because seeing Margaret like that . . . ” She shook her head and forced the image out of her mind. “It brought everything back up. The dream, the remains we found in the woods . . . ” Seth. “I’m not sleeping because if I’m having those images during my waking hours, I can only imagine how horrible they’ll be when I sleep.”

  He laid his hand over hers on her knee. Stared at her a long time as if debating something. And in the silence Sam was almost afraid to ask what he was thinking.

  “How do you feel about hypnosis?”

  That was not what she’d expected him to say. “Are you serious?”

  “Completely.”

  She laughed for the first time in days. “I didn’t know you were in the entertainment industry, Dr. McClane.”

  He frowned. “Hypnotic regression is a legitimate therapy tool used in psychiatry. Opening the unconscious mind is often the first step toward unblocking painful events that are preventing a person from enjoying a healthy, happy, and fulfilling life.”

  He wasn’t joking. Her smile faded. “And you do this? With your patients?”

  “Not me. I’m not trained in it. But my father is.”

  Her stomach flipped. He was dead serious.

  He threaded his fingers with hers. “I think you have two choices. You can either go on the way you’ve been going, having these nightmares that keep you up all the time, or you can try to figure out what they’re really all about.”

  “If it’s a dream, it’s just my psyche trying to freak me out. Horror movies give me nightmares. It’s the same thing.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were having those dreams before we found the remains in the woods and before Margaret was murdered. Dreams are another way the unconscious mind tries to process and explain events in our lives, especially ones that have left a mark on us.”

  Her chest grew tight with understanding. “You think the dream is real.”

  “Maybe.” His fingers tightened around hers. “If that’s the case, then hypnosis might be a way to draw it out so you can deal with it and move on.”

  Her stomach rolled. She’d heard her brother die. That had to traumatize a person, right? But sweat slicked her skin as a cold reality slapped her in the face. Never in all the years she’d been having this nightmare had she ever seen Seth’s face. Not once had she felt like her dreams had anything to do with him.

  Which meant she’d seen something worse that night. Something she hadn’t yet remembered.

  Her eyes burned with the sting of tears she did not want to let fall, and she closed them quickly and tried to hold them back.

  “Hey.” Ethan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the warmth and safety of his chest. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out together. I promise.”

  Together sounded heavenly. But she was starting to wonder if anything would ever be okay again. Because if she’d really witnessed something so horrible her conscious mind had blocked it for almost twenty years, that meant what she’d seen and lived through the last few days was only the beginning.

  Will dropped ice into his empty glass on the bar and looked across the Kelloggs’ great room toward Jeff, seated in the leather chair, staring wide-eyed into the fire.

  The man looked lost—bloodshot eyes, wrinkled clothes, hair he hadn’t combed in two days. As Will filled his glass, he told himself this was why he was still single at his age. Because he’d seen too much shit in his life and knew all relationships crashed and burned at some point. He never wanted to be left broken and wasted like Jeff. Worse yet, like his own father.

  He lifted the glass to his lips. Then again, there was a strong possibility it wasn’t grief dragging that reaction from Jeff. It could very well be guilt.

  “Funeral’s Friday?” Will asked, setting the crystal topper back in the decanter.

  “Yeah.” Jeff continued to stare at the flames as if he were a million miles away. “Friday.”

  Will had to hand it to him. He played the grieving widower well.

  He moved toward the fireplace with his whiskey, gripped the mantel, and studied a photo of Jeff and Margaret standing on a dock, which looked as if it had been taken a few years before. “Your poll numbers will probably go up. Sympathy vote’s a pretty strong one.”

  “You think I care about the fucking election right now?”

  Will glanced over his shoulder. “You’d be stupid not to. Somebody just did you a favor.”

  “She was my wife.”

  “Who you were forced to marry. We all know Maggie wasn’t the easiest person to live with.”

  “Are you asking if I killed her?”

  “Did you?”

  “No! I loved her, dammit!”

  The answer was too quick. Will turned away and frowned.

  “I know you find that hard to believe,” Jeff said behind him, “but I did. Maggie could be a real bitch when she wanted, but she had these . . . moments. Moments when she’d let down her guard. Do little things like rub my feet, or edit one of my speeches, or run her fingers through my hair and hum until I fell asleep.” His voice grew thick. “She wasn’t always all about herself. When no one was looking, she could be generous. And kind.”

  Will had never seen kindness in Margaret Wilcox. Maybe when they’d been kids, but not recently. Ever since Margaret and Jeff had moved back from Portland, she’d been shallow and self-centered. Will couldn’t imagine her rubbing anyone’s feet. Not even the Messiah’s himself.

  “I think Kenny did it,” Jeff said quietly.

  Will turned toward his friend. “What makes you say that?”

  “They’ve both been acting strange lately. And I overheard her on the phone the other night. I think with him.”

  “You think they were having an affair?”

  Jeff winced. “God, I hope not. No, I think Kenny was bugging her to do something about Sam. Kenny’s been off his rocker since Sam came back to town.”

  Will’s jaw hardened. Jeff was right. Kenny had been more paranoid than normal, and it had started around Sam’s return. Will had talked Kenny back from a rage just a couple of weeks ago when he thought Sam was telling that shrink too much. And it was no secret that Kenny had both hated and desired Maggie in a way that was twisted a
nd sick.

  “Fuck.” Jeff pushed out of his chair. “I need another drink.” He slammed bottles against the bar. Bourbon sloshed from carafe to glass, spilling over the edge to pool on the hard surface.

  Will stepped away from the fire. “I’ll keep an eye on Kenny.”

  “If he did it, I don’t want to know.” Jeff tossed back the inch of amber liquid in his tumbler.

  Interesting comment coming from the grieving widower. Unless he knew for a fact Kenny hadn’t killed Margaret.

  “Hey.” Jeff eyed Will across the bar, looking half-sane for the first time all day. “What do you think about that shrink? McClane? The one Sam brought to the party?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. He just looks familiar. I can’t place him.”

  A chill spread down Will’s spine. He’d thought the same. There was something about McClane’s eyes that was eerily familiar to him too.

  “Mr. Kellogg?” The maid stepped into the room, cutting a cautious look between them. “Ms. Parker’s here to see you.”

  “Sam?” Jeff’s eyes brightened. “Send her in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As the maid disappeared, Will frowned. “Don’t mention anything to Sam about Kenny.”

  Disdain crossed Jeff’s features. “Then keep that fucktard away from her.”

  Relaxing the muscles in his face, Jeff stepped out from behind the bar as Sam passed under the archway. “Sam. It’s so good of you to come by.”

  Sam stepped into Jeff’s waiting embrace and hugged him. “I am so sorry. I would have stopped by yesterday, I just . . . I didn’t know what to say.”

  Her grief-filled voice drifted toward Will, and he looked back at the fireplace. He hadn’t changed his mind. He never wanted to be pathetic and vulnerable like Jeff. But he’d always had a soft spot for Samantha Parker. And right now he couldn’t stand to see her in the arms of a possible murderer . . . friend or not.

  “It’s okay,” Jeff said in a raspy voice. “I understand. How are you? I know this can’t be easy for you either.”