Unforgettable

3

“WE HAVE TO STOP,” Bo said against her mouth, his hands on her shoulders, pushing her away.

Erin’s entire being protested, and she shook her head.

“No.”

Then his big hands were on her face, making her look at him. His cheeks were ruddy, his eyes hot. There was no doubt that he wanted her.

“I’m not going to do this. It’s taking advantage, don’t you get that? You’re not in any state of mind to be making these decisions.”

That riled her. She might have lost her memory, but she wasn’t so incapacitated that she couldn’t decide if she wanted a man or not. Granted, there were a few extra things going on that might influence whether she wanted this man, but still.

She dropped a hand, planted it between them as she closed her fingers around the erection that bulged against his slacks.

“Erin, don’t,” he almost begged, even as he pressed into her.

She took her hand away, shaken by the desperate look on his face. She’d hurt this man, and even if she couldn’t remember it, she was doing it again.

Shame welled, and she stopped touching him, dropping her forehead against his chest.

“I’m sorry. I—I really want you, though. It’s...crazy, but I do.”

“I know. I want you, too.”

“I could tell.”

He bit out a short laugh, his hands still on her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

Her eyes closed, inhaling his scent, feeling the heat of his body, Erin tried to calm her own need, but her mind had different ideas.

“Oh,” she whispered in surprise.

“What?”

“I can almost smell them, the apples. What the heck is it about the apples, Bo?”

Then she knew. As if she’d known it all the time. She pulled back to look up at him. “It was the last time we were together, wasn’t it? The last time we made love?”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded before his head dropped back, staring upward at the sky as he answered. “Yeah.”

The simple confirmation made another puzzle piece click into place. “So this is June...I was out of commission mid-February through April, and we broke up a month before the explosion, you said. January? So how could we have been in an orchard?”

“It was in October. Our last time. Then I left to train for the new job and came back at Christmas. We officially broke up shortly after that.”

Something pulled at the far side of her memory, but she couldn’t reach it and groaned in frustration.

“I can feel it’s all there, like it’s behind a wall, but I can’t get to it,” she said, closing her fists into his shirt, an expression of frustration more than desire this time.

His arms came around her, holding her close.

But it had happened again. Being close to him loosened up her mind, her reservations, or whatever. Memories, no matter how sketchy, started to form. Whatever he’d been to her, it was strong enough to pull her back in a way nothing else had been.

“It’ll be okay, Duck,” he said, and she thought he kissed her hair.

Her head came up quickly.

“Duck. You always called me that. Why?”

Blood raced through her veins, excitement coursing through her as she remembered another small thing.

“You were always hitting your head on the bar above the seat in the hook and ladder, and I had to remind you to duck so many times, I started calling you that.”

His thumb was rubbing over her jaw, a tender gesture in the wake of the passion that had carried them away a few seconds earlier, though that was still there, too.

She measured her words carefully.

“You said you wanted more from me. I want more, too...from you. Now.”

Her eyes met his, and she hoped he knew what she was asking.

Desire flared in the brown depths of his gaze. Of course he knew.

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? Whatever it is between us, it’s the only thing that’s made me remember anything. And if I can remember you, and us, maybe I can remember other things.”

He smiled slightly, a hint of bitterness there as he dropped his hands from her shoulders and moved away, bending to grab his keys from the ground.

“Erin, as much as I’d like to help, I’m not about to sleep with you to see if it can help jog your memory. Thanks anyway.”

She took a step back, giving him some space.

“It’s not like that, not exactly,” she tried to explain, though she supposed it was exactly like that. She did want to use him, in many delightful ways, and if it got her memory back, even better.

“What is it like, then?”

He caught her gaze, and she grimaced in the face of his challenge.

“Okay, yes, it is about getting my memory back. Can you blame me? I want my life back. My work. My sense of damned purpose,” she said in frustration. “But I think there’s more to it than that. For both of us. These dreams...they’ve been with me since the hospital. I didn’t know what they were, but they get stronger, more...insistent. And I can see in your face that...you want me.”

He pulled up straight, his body tensing. “That doesn’t mean I should have you.”

“No, but I think all of this might mean that we left things...wrong. Unsettled. There are still issues between us that need to be...addressed.”

His eyes narrowed, pinning her. “And you think we should address these issues in bed?”

Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t let him put her off. She took a step forward, laid her hand on his chest. “In bed, or wherever else seems right. From what you tell me, and from what I dream about, we weren’t exactly...conventional in our choice of places to have sex. Were there others? Other public places? What did I like, Bo? What did I want you to do to me? I don’t remember...but I want to find out.”