He sucked in a breath. Words dangled unsaid between us. I hoped against hope he’d voice them, but he didn’t.
Instead, he pushed away my foot and smothered my body with his.
His cock drove into my pussy, hot and tempting. I wriggled beneath him, welcoming.
Then he did something I would never have suspected.
He fisted my hair, arching my head to kiss me.
His lips descended on mine.
Hard.
Fast.
Wet. And possessive.
I couldn’t breathe or think as his tongue invaded my lips, taking so much, giving so much.
All my attention was on his kiss and I cried out as his hips thrust hard, driving his cock fast and deep inside.
Stars twinkled behind my eyes. I bucked beneath him, assaulted by sweetness and violence. Tenderness and hate. He nipped at my lips, biting me, while his cock drove deeper and deeper.
He swallowed my screams, feeding me on his groans.
Not seeing or being able to touch him made the taking so much… more. He took everything I had to give.
The orgasm started behind my memories, dark and lurking just like everything else in my life. He rode me hard, pushing my body up the bed.
“Fuck. Take it. I can’t fucking—”
I had no words for him. Not this time. Not when I wanted to remain nothing but warmth and sparkles of my building release.
“Goddammit, I can’t. I… shouldn’t. Fuck me… This is wrong, so… fucking wrong.” He grunted with every thrust.
My ears twitched with his torment. This was wrong? What connecting? Making each other feel incredible? I couldn’t believe that. I didn’t want to believe it.
Tilting my hips, I drove us to the pinnacle of no return.
“There’s nothing wrong about this,” I moaned as his cock stroked and detonated the fireball in my core.
I came with an explosion, squeezing along his length with ferocity that made my eyes water. He followed, his groan so loud, it set off another earthquake inside me. The release felt like a bomb, a grenade—bullets of power and rage and freedom.
He fucked me with abandon. Losing all pretenses as we came hard and long. Throwing ourselves into the grey where there were no ghosts or memories—only us and pleasure.
Chapter Eleven
She looked at me as if she understood. She saw straight into my soul and understood.
She’ll never understand.
She twisted my mind.
I hated her for offering a second chance with every blink of her green eyes. She offered the priceless gift of forgetting and letting go.
My heart wanted to believe so fucking much.
It’d been so long since anyone cared.
But that was what made her doubly dangerous.
Emotions were the devil and I had no intention of falling for her tricks.
Seeing through bullshit was what got me through circumstances that should’ve killed me. I couldn’t afford to listen to anything but the whispered murmurs of hate.
It was all I knew.
The only thing I understood after what’d happened.
—Kill
Three days passed.
After Kill took me, he’d left without a word, leaving me unbound and sated to do what I pleased. Half an hour after one of the best orgasms of my life, the front door slammed and the empty house settled around me like a tomb.
He’d gone.
To deal with business? To respond to the phone call? Either way, he’d gone alone, and for that I was grateful. Relief thrummed through my blood, but my nerves wound tight with what my future meant.
That first day had been awkward. I’d showered, found a spare toothbrush in his vanity, and dressed in clothes he’d bought me from the plaza. I didn’t know what to do, where I could go, or what was expected of me. So I stayed in my room and asked every question I could think of to try and trick my brain into answering me.
That night, I waited up for him. I paced his home until well past midnight.
I stayed awake until two a.m. before finally succumbing to sleep, and when I woke, I found him in front of his computers, clicking madly, trading markets I would never understand.
We bumped into each other the next morning in the kitchen. I’d raided his supplies to create a breakfast of yogurt with berries that’d been delivered the day before in a weekly supply of healthy meals.
He’d frozen in the doorway and glared at me as if I were a stranger.
I hadn’t said a word, hoping he would shed light on his issues. But he’d turned and left, leaving the house for the second time.
I might remain in his home for now, but I wasn’t stupid to think I had unlimited time to remember. Overhearing his phone conversation confirmed that I would still be sold. Regardless if Kill was on board with that decision or not.
He was the president of Pure Corruption, but he obeyed another—the man he admitted was his boss, who was currently incarcerated at Florida State. I didn’t know why Kill had stooped to such a horrible crime as trafficking, but I wasn’t delusional to think I could make him care.
Not that I achieved any progress. Kill hated me—or hated the way I made him feel. Either way… I was on borrowed time.
The next day, he left again. No touching, no explanation—he acted as if I weren’t there. We were ghosts in the same house, drifting past one another. There was no mention of sex, or how soon he meant to get rid of me—even his questions about my memories and tattoos never came.
He withdrew into himself, becoming pensive and quiet and so damn surly, I stopped asking him the simplest of questions and avoided him.
An unlikely routine sprang up as simplistic and easy as if we were following some carefully scripted plan.
Arthur would leave first thing in the morning. To go where—I didn’t know. I would stay in bed until I was sure he’d gone, then make my way to his office and stare at the equations on the wall.
Something about them tugged my brain. Taunting me with answers I couldn’t see.
I snooped in his wardrobe, looking for some treasured mementos that might show me a link to my past or his. I strolled around his home searching… searching for something, anything.
He didn’t seem concerned about leaving me alone for so long. Was he so confident in his fucking me that I would stay? Stay for what? He’d given me nothing.
Minute by minute, my world shrank to the small circumference of his home. And in his home, I felt both safe and watched. Both comforted and unsettled.
I tried to use his computers, but they were password protected.
I tried to go for a walk, but the gate was code encrypted.
I tried to find a weakness in the property’s exterior, but it was a fortress. Every blocked avenue made me itch for freedom and I began looking for ways to run.
At night when he returned, I stopped trying to talk to him. I ceased padding down the stairs in the middle of the night to spy on him as he furiously clicked his mouse and placed trades on the flashing graphs and foreign currency pairs.
The longer we didn’t talk, the more I noticed the sharpness in his green eyes, the intelligence burning bright—the almost scary intensity that made him glow as night after night he sat at his desk and muttered the same thing over and over, while staring at an image I couldn’t see.
“I will have my vengeance. I will find my peace. I will ruin those motherfuckers and hope to God I will be free.”
I’d tried to find out what the picture was, but the drawer was locked with no key to be found.
The rest of his house gave no clues as to who lived behind his impenetrable green gaze, and I grew antsy as more minutes ticked past and I remained in the dark.
I need to remember.
I tried. Shit, how I tried. But all my attempts were in vain. I gave up harassing my brain for answers or clues. I became trapped and I didn’t care about anything but running.
I couldn’t stay any longer in the house of a biker president who no lon
ger noticed me.
I didn’t want to live in the blank world of forgotten anymore.
I have to leave.
There was nothing for me here. Arthur had made that abundantly clear—pulling away from me so his conscience would be clear when he sold me.
I didn’t want a man like that—who could so easily walk away from what was between us.
You deserve more.
I agreed wholeheartedly, so why did my soul scream whenever I thought about walking out the door and never coming back?
Chapter Twelve
I was a weapon.
I’d been honed by the best, given the skills to excel and an empire to rule.
I was a warrior.
I’d been granted ultimate power, intelligence to succeed, and powerful allies to make my wishes come true.
I was a king.
And kings were never distracted by those weaker than them.
—Kill
“You’re coming with me.”
I looked up from where I sat cross-legged on the bed. The only reading materials in Kill’s house were trade journals, company manifests, and a book called So You Think You’re a Genius. It had mind puzzles, equations, and a bunch of very technical tests that proved in actual fact that no, I wasn’t a genius.
Last night, when Kill didn’t come home till three a.m., I found a weakness in the back fence. The stone wall was rougher there, less perfectly built, and gave just enough finger grips to climb the three-yard imprisonment.
I didn’t know what existed behind the wall, and I’d have nothing to take apart from a few pieces of fruit from the kitchen to sustain myself. The catering service Kill ordered only delivered at the start of the week—frozen, calorie-counted healthiness that kept me and him alive with no mess or joy of cooking.
Unfortunately, another order wasn’t due for a few days, and I wanted to leave tonight.
I couldn’t stay in this house another moment.
Resting the book on my knees, I asked coldly, “To where?”
His eyes narrowed at the frost in my voice. “To Pure Corruption. Time for our weekly meet, and I need to take you in. Brothers want to discuss your future.”
My throat closed. I knew this day would come—I just hoped it wouldn’t interfere with my runaway plan.
My hands balled. “You said you wouldn’t get rid of me till you knew—”
“Doesn’t matter what I said. I’m done babysitting you and I have a lot of shit on my plate.”
I’m not babysitting a traitor.
Burn, baby girl. Burn.
I shuddered as the vile voice echoed in my head. Gripping the hardcover of the book, so I wouldn’t show my fear, I snapped, “What do you propose to do with me?”
He stiffened, not moving from his place by the door. “What’s with the fucking attitude?”
My eyes opened wide. “Seriously? You have the balls to ask me what’s with my attitude?”
He stalked forward, growing bigger and bigger as his temper seethed. “Yes. I’ll ask again. What’s with the fucking ice, sweetheart?”
I slammed the book closed and threw it at his head.
He ducked, spinning around to watch the heavy volume slam against the carpet. He turned to me face me with violent, incredulous eyes. “What was that for?”
“What was that for?” I shot up from my butt to my knees, and grabbed two handfuls of my hair. “I’ll tell you what it was for. I sewed you up. You took me shopping. You made love to me three nights ago, and then you just walked out of my life! No explanation, no hint at what you mean to do with me. You’re driving me insane, and I know that there’s something you’re not telling me—a lot of things actually. But you’ve driven me so far away that I’m… I’m—”
Kill lowered his head, looking up through thick lashes. “You’re what? Spit it out.”
I dropped my hands from my hair, feeling drained and no longer wanting to fight. “I’m done. I’m no closer to figuring out who I am or how I know you than I was when I was first stolen.” Rolling my shoulders, I muttered, “I heard you on the phone. You’re still going to sell me, so everything else…” I shrugged, my voice slipping into sadness. “Guess none of it matters, because when I have an owner who’s beating me senseless and fucking me within an inch of my life, I’ll be grateful I don’t remember anything. Grateful to your coldness that I have no link to my past, because I’ll never be that person again.”
The room thickened with tension.
Arthur took a step toward the bed, then another. His boots were silent on the thick carpet and he’d taken off his leather cut, so all he wore was his black T-shirt and jeans.
“Listen closely, Forgetful Girl.” His nostrils flared as he said, “Three days ago I did not make love to you. I fucked you. I told you I wanted nothing more than a release. And that’s what I got. I don’t have to explain myself to you and what I do in my life is of no concern. I had things to take care of—Club business that will never be discussed with you or any other woman in my world.”
My heart fisted and I swallowed hard.
“You always knew your future and I could punish you for eavesdropping on a personal conversation. In fact, you’ve pissed me off so much, I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
I went ice-cold. “What?”
He closed the distance to the bed, pressing his knees against the mattress. In a horribly fast move, he grabbed my hips, flipped me onto my back, and wrapped his strong fingers around my ankles. In an effortless pull, he positioned my body onto the edge of the bed.
He smirked. “Wearing a skirt. That’s rather convenient.”
I struggled, digging my hands into the quilt, trying to get away. “Don’t touch me.”
His right hand disappeared up my skirt, stroking the satin between my legs.
My eyes almost rolled back at the sudden pleasure of his touch.
“You want me to touch you. Admit it.”
“I want you to tell me who you are.”
He shook his head, his fingers working against my clit. “I don’t know you.”
“Tell me how she died.”
The second the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back—not just for my safety but because of the brokenness inside Kill’s eyes.
His fingers pinched my clit cruelly. “I told you never to talk about her.”
Courage shot through me and I asked, “Did she burn? Did she die in a fire?”
Did she somehow make it out of a burning house where no one saw, and was given a new identity because she remembered nothing? Because if she did, then look at my scars!
With a vicious jerk, he ripped off my satin G-string and shoved the floaty pink skirt up around my hips. “You keep talking and you’re going to get hurt.”
He fumbled with his belt, ripping it open and unclasping his fly. His cock strained against the thin material of his black boxer-briefs.
I couldn’t move as he pulled a condom from his pocket and shoved both boxers and jeans to his knees. Something else fell from his hand, thudding gently to the carpet.
I tried to see what it was, but Kill gave me no room to move.
He didn’t care that he stood naked before me with his mermaid tattoo and her hair caressing around his cock. He didn’t care that the Libra star sign tattooed in the waves seemed to glow and tease me with memories. And he didn’t care that a tear—so full of confusion, need, and madness—trickled down my cheek.
His hands shook as he rolled the condom down his length, sheathing his large erection. My body warmed and melted, twisting my desire to run.
“How do you know she’s gone, Killian?” I whispered. “Why are you so sure she’s dead, when I know things I can’t explain?”
He froze, his hand fisting the base of his cock. I didn’t expect an answer. I never expected the truth, but was granted with one sentence. “She died due to complications in surgery. She never woke up. It’s undisputable and true and every time I fucking look at you, you remind
me of that fact. Are you happy now?”
I tilted my hips, inviting him to take me. “No, I’m not happy that you’re hurting.”
His gaze flashed with pain; his eyebrow rose, almost as if he was suspicious of my permission.
I nodded gently, biting my lip as he ducked his knees and positioned himself at my entrance. There was no need for foreplay; my body was drenched, wanting to connect after three days of terrible loneliness.
“What surgery?” I whispered as my mouth fell open from being filled so slowly.
He gritted his teeth, sinking completely inside me. “Enough talking.”
My body tensed then relaxed as his long length stretched me. I couldn’t let it go. “Did you see her at least? Please… I need to know.”
His eyes glowed with agony so deep, it completely overshadowed his lust. Sighing hard, he thrust, but his heart wasn’t in it—it was lost to him, ruined by a dead girl. “I saw the photos. I read the police report. I told you I stood on her fucking grave. She’s gone.”
My back bowed as he drove fiercely into me, embracing his anger.
My heart thudded thick and needful. I wanted to forget about the morbid conversation and embrace the sensation of him inside me, but I couldn’t let it go. I had to chase. Had to hound. It was the only way I’d find the truth. “You sound as if you didn’t get to say good-bye. Why did you have to read police reports? Weren’t you together until the end?”
His face went black. Fingernails pierced my hips. “I was in fucking prison.”
Silence filled my head. White noise and confusion. “What… what for?”
He laughed, sounding manic. His hips pistoned, driving me higher and higher toward the strangest orgasm. One entwined in finding out the truth all while our bodies devoured each other.
“I was betrayed.” Bowing over me, he growled, “But it doesn’t hide my sins. I was incarcerated for murder, sweetheart. How does that makes you feel?” His green eyes flashed as he savagely thrust into me.
My pussy throbbed and bruised. I couldn’t stop my hand rising and cupping his cheek, stroking his rough face. “You’re still paying for your sins.”
He slapped my hand away. “Don’t touch me.”