Intimate Betrayal

Reese’s stomach did a quick somersault while her brain scrambled for organization. “M-ax-well.” At that precise moment, with him standing in front of her, looking for all the world as if he’d just stepped off the cover of Ebony Man Magazine, she had a difficult time trying to remember why she’d been so pissed-off only minutes ago.

“How’s the headache?”

Briefly she frowned in confusion. “How did you…?”

“I could see the beginnings last night.” He paused. “I should have stayed to make sure you were alright. I’m sorry.”

His apology tugged on her heart. “There’s no need to apologize. I didn’t realize it was that obvious,” she said softly.

He slipped his hands in the pockets of his cream-colored linen slacks in an effort to keep from reaching out and touching her. His dreams had been filled with her; in front of him, at his side, beneath him. When he finally tore himself away from his erotic dreams, he knew he had to see her.

Maxwell angled his chin in the direction of the interior of the suite. “May I come in?” His dark eyes swept over her and his voice reached down to the bottom of her soul. “I’ll only stay as long as you want me to. I promise.”

A surge of heat engulfed her, while her heart roared so loudly she swore it would burst. “Sure.” She stepped aside and tugged on the belt of her robe. “Come on in.”

Maxwell followed her into the suite, the scent of her freshly bathed body leaving a sensual trail for him to follow.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she suggested, stopping in front of the couch. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” Quickly she disappeared into the bedroom.

“What in the devil am I going to put on?” she mumbled, frantically tearing through her wardrobe. Finally she decided on a lemon-yellow tank top and lime green cotton slacks, with a pair of espadrilles that matched her top. She slipped a slinky gold belt through the loops of her slacks and pushed tiny gold studs through her ears.

A look in the mirror caused her to gasp in horror. Her hair was a wreck, hanging limply around her shoulders from the steam of the shower. She pulled a stiff brush through her hair and quickly twisted it into a neat French roll.

“Not bad,” she nodded to her reflection. Then across her lips she added the barest hint of cinnamon lip gloss, and stroked her lashes with jet black mascara.

“You go, girl,” she said, smiling. Taking a fortifying breath, she reentered the living area.

Maxwell stood up the moment she entered and his heart seemed to shift in his chest. She was so lovely.

“Hope I didn’t take too long.” She made her way across the room, but stopped several feet away from him.

Maxwell crossed the remaining space that separated them. He gave her one long heated look that set her body aglow, and without further waiting swiftly took her into his arms, crushing her against his pulsing body.

His mouth, hungry for the taste of her again, took her lips, briefly savoring their sweetness before dipping into the hot core of her mouth.

Reese wrapped her arms around his hard, lean body, eager to feel the strength of him as he surged against her. She suckled his tongue, committing its texture to memory, allowing it to awaken every nerve ending in her body.

An unstoppable need to know her filled him with the force of a monsoon, building in ferocity. His hands began a slow dance along her back, compelling her to arch closer—tighter. Downward his hands trailed, stroking her round hips, pulling the heart of her desire against the heat of his.

He moaned her name as he pulled away from her lips, only to run his tongue along the tender cords of her neck. Reese trembled and cried out his name, tossing her head back to give him full access.

“I want you, Reese. Here and now. I won’t deny that anymore. But that would be too easy,” he groaned in her ear. He took a step back, looked into her eyes and stroked her face with his fingertip. “You deserve more than just a mating game.” He took a breath. “And I don’t know if I’m capable of giving more than that. Not anymore.”

He set her away from him and turned his back to her.

“Max,” she whispered, trembling from the aftermath of his loving. She reached out to touch his stiff shoulder. “Please don’t turn away from me. Talk to me—please.”

He expelled a short, hollow laugh. “Reese, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

She came around to stand in front of him. “How about if I start first,” she offered.

Maxwell looked into her eyes, expecting some insignificant piece of information. But nothing could have prepared him for her revelation.

Chapter 9

Maxwell stared at Reese for several long moments, attempting to digest what she’d said.

“Pretty unbelievable, huh?”

Maxwell’s eyebrows rose then lowered in silent response. “How could you not remember anything before the accident?” he asked, his voice heavy with bewilderment.

Reese slowly shook her head. “I’ve been to every doctor, neurosurgeon, psychologist and psychiatrist worth their shingle. The general consensus is that there’s nothing physically wrong with me. The headaches and the nightmares are all a manifestation of my intentional attempt to suppress my memory.”

“That’s what the doctors told you?” he sputtered in disbelief.

Reese nodded. “That’s the only explanation any of them could offer. The trauma of the accident was so severe that I’ve completely erased it and my entire life leading up to it.”

Maxwell leaned slightly forward, bracing his arms on his thighs. “You have no memory of the first fifteen years of your life?” he asked in astonished wonder.

“None,” she said in a tone of resignation.

Maxwell heaved a sigh. “This is just incredible.” He got up to kneel in front of where she sat. “How do you deal with it?” he asked with such absolute sincerity it tore at her heart.

“Day by day,” she answered softly. “Just day by day.”

He reached out, letting the tip of his index finger trail along the contours of her face. Then gently he asked, “Do you want to remember, Reese—really want to remember?”

Briefly she shut her eyes. “At times, especially when the pain and the nightmares are so bad that I just wish I would die. Then, when things are good, I don’t want to know. If what happened was that horrible, maybe it’s best I never remember.”

“That can’t be better, Reese. And the only way to rid yourself of the pain and the nightmares is to rid yourself of the fear of remembering.”

“Yes, doc,” she teased, chucking him under the chin in an attempt to lighten the somber mood. She popped up from her seat and slowly began to pace. Then she suddenly turned toward him. “What’s most disturbing, at the moment, is that the headaches and the nightmares started again…when I met you.”

Maxwell’s dark eyes widened. “Let me get this straight. You started having these reoccurrences after we met?”

“Yes. At first I thought it was the stress of the trip. But the headaches started getting worse, like I told you. I had to begin taking the prescription medicine again. And then the nightmares.” She shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around her waist as a tremor shimmied through her. “I hadn’t suffered from those in close to three years.”

An unnatural sense of foreboding settled in the pit of Maxwell’s belly. There was a reason for everything, he rationalized. But what could the reason be for him to be the catalyst that triggered her ordeal?

“How do you feel right now, right at this moment?”

“Right now I feel fine. The pain is gone and I can’t remember my dreams.”

“Good. Come on. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.

“Where?” she cried doubling her step to keep up with him.

“Just get your purse, or whatever, and let’s go. What you need is a little R&R. And I have just the place.”