Sanders 01 - Silent Run (25 page)

Remember the bad times. Remember the night you came home and Sarah and Caitlyn were gone. Remember the lonely, desperate days when you thought you would never see them again. Remember how much you hate her now.

Only he didn't hate her. He didn't want to admit it, even in his own head, but it was the truth. He cast another quick look at Sarah stretched out on the bed, knowing he'd just made another mistake, because he couldn't look away now. His senses were fully engaged in the sight of her face, the gorgeous hair that he remembered wrapping around his fingers as he moved inside her body, those breasts, soft, full, begging to be touched. She had curves in all the right places, and he wanted to sink into those curves until he made everything right again. But that wasn't going to happen, and his desire for her was crazy.

He was lusting after a woman who had treated him like shit. What the hell was wrong with him? He could get another woman. He could get lots of other women who were nowhere near as complicated and confusing as Sarah.

Forcing himself to look away, he rolled his neck around on his shoulders. Then he tried to distract himself by setting up the computer. But as each program slowly installed, his thoughts drifted relentlessly back to the woman on the bed.

He'd told Sarah that he could never forgive her. He'd told her he could never forget what she'd done to him -- that their relationship was over, done, finished. And that was the way it should be, the way he wanted it to be. Some actions were inexcusable. What kind of man would he be if he gave her another chance to hurt him?

His gaze drifted back to her, and he sighed. In sleep her face was even softer and sweeter. She wasn't a cold, hard woman, a ruthless, manipulative bitch. She just wasn't. And the truth was that until the day she'd run away, she'd always given him everything he'd wanted.

But she had lied, he reminded himself. She'd made up stories about her parents and grandparents. She'd never told him she'd grown up in foster care, that she'd been abandoned, which now appeared to be her true story. Was it shame that had kept her quiet? Was it fear that he wouldn't want her if he knew the truth? Was that why she'd turned herself into the woman he wanted her to be -- because she'd needed to fit in, to be accepted?

She'd always worried about what his friends thought. The first time he'd taken her to dinner to meet some of his buddies, she'd been so nervous her hands had been shaking. He'd thought it was incredibly sexy at the time that she would care so much about making a good impression. He should have asked her why it was so important. Not that she would have told him the truth.

If her past in foster care was her true reality, then she'd grown up alone, lonely. The lack of stability in her life had no doubt created her inner core of insecurity, of which he'd had a few glimpses.

After Caitlyn was born, Sarah had told him that having a real family again was a dream come true. Yet she hadn't married him. She'd put him off every time he asked -- why? Had she been afraid the danger would come back?

He should probably be happy that she hadn't married him. It would be one more legal tie to dissolve when this was all over. Not that a piece of paper made a difference. Having a child bound them together forever.

As he considered the time they'd been together, he had to believe there were days, weeks, months, even, when she'd felt safe enough just to be with him. She'd laughed. She'd smiled. There had been times of pure joy. It hadn't always been serious. However, there had also been guarded moments. Something must have changed. At some point something had occurred to upset the life they had. Sarah had no longer felt safe enough to be in their home, together. If he could put a name or names to the people who wanted to hurt Sarah now, maybe what she had done in the past would all make sense.

Then what? Should he take her back?

Could they find Caitlyn and pick up where they left off? How could he do that? It would be impossible to forget what had happened before. How could he ever trust her? How could he ever feel secure in the fact that she wouldn't run again?

One thing was for sure: The last thing he needed to do was complicate the situation even further -- which meant he had to keep his distance from Sarah. He had to stop looking at her, stop wanting her.

She wasn't the woman he'd loved. He needed to refocus on the deception, the betrayal, the anger, the emotions that had gotten him through the past months.

But he had barely finished that thought when Sarah began to whimper and squirm on the bed. She was dreaming -- bad dreams.

Her movements grew more agitated. Her fingers gripped the bedspread as she kicked out her feet at some unknown assailant. Was she remembering the past again? He didn't know whether to wake her or not. At some point she had to face the demons that her brain wanted to hide from her. Was that point now? Should he let her battle it out?

“No,” she cried. “Please, no."

The desperation and fear in Sarah's voice touched a chord deep within him. He could no more look away or stand by without doing anything to help her than he could stop breathing.

Within seconds he was on his feet, heading toward the bed -- knowing that every step was taking him closer to an action he shouldn't take. He told himself he would just wake her up, put a hand on her shoulder, help her out of the nightmare. Then he would back away. He would return to the computer. It would be but a moment.

“Sarah.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.

She knocked it away, as if he were trying to hurt her.

“Wake up,” he ordered.

Her eyes flew open. She looked terrified, hunted, and she wasn't seeing him, but someone else. “Don't hurt me,” she pleaded.

His heart stopped at the pure terror in her voice. He had to bring her back. This wasn't the way to get her memories to return.

“It's Jake, Sarah. You're dreaming. It's all right. You're safe with me.” He sat down on the bed next to her. He gently pushed the sweaty strands of hair off her forehead. She'd really worked herself up.

Her breath came quick and fast as recognition returned slowly to her eyes. “Jake,” she whispered, her soft lips gently parted.

He stared at her mouth for a long time, unable to drag his gaze away. She ran her tongue along the edge of her lips. His body tightened with desire.

“Jake,” she said again.

He lifted his gaze to hers. She knew him now -- didn't she? Wasn't that awareness glittering in her eyes? Or was it something more -- was it desire? She licked her lips again.

“Don't,” he said, his control slipping even further.

She put up her hand and touched his cheek. The heat from her fingers flooded through his body. He caught her hand and meant to pull it away, but he suddenly couldn't let go. His fingers entwined with hers, and he pressed her hand against his racing heart.

“I hate you,” he muttered. “I really hate you."

“I know,” she said, meeting his gaze.

Her words released the last bit of his restraint. He crushed her mouth against his. He wanted to punish her for everything she'd put him through. But one taste, one soft yielding of her mouth, and he wanted far more than revenge. He wanted to have her the way he'd had her before. He wanted to touch every inch of her body. He wanted her to feel the heat of their passion as he slid into her body, and he wanted to take back what he'd lost. Most of all, he wanted her to remember him, dammit!

He wanted her to feel him again, so that when she did remember, she would know what she was losing. She would understand what she'd destroyed. She would know how good it had been. He'd have one more night -- on his terms.

But as Sarah opened her mouth to his tongue, as his hands roamed across her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples into hard points, he stopped thinking entirely and let his body take over.

Kicking off his shoes, he stretched out on the bed next to her, his mouth leaving hers to trail across her face, her jawline, down the curve of her neck. She closed her eyes. He wanted them open.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “I want you to know me."

Her eyes flew open, blue and blazing with a desire that she couldn't hide. She wanted him, even if she didn't know why. She wasn't hiding from him now. Her hands were on his shoulders, and she wasn't pushing him away. This was actually happening. She wasn't fighting him. In fact, her hands were sliding around his head as she pulled him back down, as she sought another kiss.

“If you want to stop,” he said, giving her one last chance, “do it now."

She didn't even hesitate. “I don't want to stop.” She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled. Then she sat up and in one quick, reckless movement pulled her shirt over her head.

Her bra was a lacy cream color, her full breasts swelling over the cups. Her nipples were tight. Her chest rose up and down with the quickening of her breath. Jake ran his finger along the edge of her bra, dropping down into her cleavage in a teasing gesture that elicited a small groan of pleasure from Sarah. He replaced his finger with his mouth, sliding his tongue along the same tantalizing path. Finally he flicked open the front clasp of her bra, pulling it apart and placed his mouth on her breast.

He'd almost forgotten how sweet she tasted, how he loved the way her nipples puckered for him, the way her body grew restless with his attention, the way her hips rubbed against his with an impatience that matched his own. He loved the soft cries she let out as he laved one breast and then the other. She was his -- all his -- and she would know him before the night was through.

He lifted his head, trailing his mouth down her abdomen, feeling her stomach muscles clench as he circled her belly button with his tongue, as his hands played with the waistband of her jeans. Finally he undid the snap, pulling down the zipper, sliding his hands into the hot vee between her legs. She was so wet -- it drove him wild. All thoughts of going slow, of torturing her, were replaced by the desperate need to get inside all that heat.

In an abrupt movement he lifted his head and sat back. He took off her jeans and underwear with impatient hands. Then he removed his own shirt and pants, wanting to feel nothing but skin between them. The sight of her soft body under his fueled his raging desire. As he touched her intimately, he went in for another kiss.

Sarah sucked on his tongue, her hands roaming his back, cupping his ass as he settled between her legs. She was as ready for him as he was for her. “Say my name,” he ordered, lifting his head just long enough to look at her.

There was no cloud of confusion now in her bright blue eyes.

“Jake.” She pulled him down, wrapping her arms and her legs around him as he thrust into her.

She was tight and hot, and he'd been abstinent too long. He wanted to make it go on forever. He wanted her to feel him deep within her. He wanted to touch the core of her, open the floodgates to her memory, make her know him. And she seemed to want the same thing.

There was a reckless, urgent passion burning within her that he didn't recognize, but certainly liked. Sarah wouldn't let him slow down, urging him on, harder and deeper until they finally came together in an explosive climax.

After he caught his breath, he rolled over onto his back, pulling her up next to him, his arm around her body. He wasn't letting her go yet. The physical and emotional distance that had been between them was gone. He had her back. He could feel it.

Please, God, let her remember me, he prayed silently, knowing that deep down in his gut he wasn't at all sure that he had her back.

* * *

Sarah could hear Jake's heart beating beneath her cheek. His skin was still hot to her touch, his breath ragged and rough. Her own body felt deliciously tired and used, her nerves still tingling from every taste, every touch. The mix of anger and passion had made their lovemaking so strong, so powerful. She'd felt Jake's desire to take her back in every kiss. He was fighting for her and for them and for what had once been perfect. And she was fighting for some memory of it all.

Closing her eyes, she strained to see some other moment when she and Jake had been in bed together. There must have been hundreds of times when they'd made love during the two years they shared a home. Hadn't she slept just like this, her leg flung over his, her arm across his waist, her head pillowed by his strong chest?

Her brain stubbornly refused to go back in time. Why would her mind give her back some memories and not others? But that wasn't the most important question.

What was she going to tell Jake when he asked? And he would ask.

He'd done everything he could to shake the memories loose, to remind her of how good it had been between them. Well, he'd shaken her up, all right, but not in the way he'd intended. Her senses were singing. And her heart was beating in sync with his. She might not remember the actual times they'd been together in the past, but she could feel the love they'd shared, much the same way she felt the love between herself and Caitlyn. The three of them were connected, a bond that couldn't be broken, even if it couldn't be remembered.

But he wouldn't understand. He would hate her again. And she didn't want to go back to that place. She needed Jake to be on her side despite everything she'd done to him. It was a lot to ask of the man, probably too much.

Jake's arm tightened around her, his fingers slipping into her hair, rubbing the now tightening muscles in her neck. “I can hear you thinking,” he murmured. “And your thoughts are making you tense.” He paused, waiting for her to say something. When she didn't, he said, “Sarah?"

She'd expected the questioning note, but she still wasn't ready for it. “Was it always this good?” she asked. Her words had barely left her mouth when she felt him stiffen and knew she'd already revealed too much. There were a million things she could have said besides that.

“You don't remember.” He didn't make it a question, just a statement of fact and frustration. His hand fell from her neck.