Beyond Fearless (9 page)

The way she said it sent relief flooding through him. “The dream—when you were picking up my things from the tray? Reading incidents from my life?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “You had that dream last night?”

“Yeah. Tell me something you learned,” he asked in a barely audible voice.

She swallowed. “Did you buy a pack of cigarettes when you were twelve and try to smoke one?”

“Jesus.” She had said it in the dream. Now it was part of their reality. “You know all that about my life?”

He felt her deliberately reaching into his mind for another memory—one that he didn't recall from the night before. And she was far more practiced at the skill than he.

His face heated when he felt her pull up and examine the time that he'd thrown a sparkler at a Fourth of July party and accidentally hit Steve Gilbert in the chest and burned him.

“You didn't do it on purpose,” she murmured.

“I hurt him.”

“And he paid you back by leaving you stranded at the movies the next time you went to town together.”

“Yeah.”

When he looked down at her hand—so close to his—he saw she was watching him with an intensity that made the breath go solid in his lungs.

Then, between one heartbeat and the next, her hand darted out and she laid her palm over the top of his hand.

ZACH FELT A
jolt, like he'd grabbed a live wire. It sent heat through his hand, up his arm and into his chest, making it suddenly hard to drag air into his lungs.

Anna gasped, and he knew she was feeling something similar. But not because of the sound she'd made.

He
knew
.
Knew
that the contact had affected her in the same way it had affected him.

In her act, she picked up objects and pulled memories from the mind of the owner. He was doing something like that right now.

His mind connected to hers on a level that he had never dared imagine.

“Anna Ridgeway. You're Anna Ridgeway.”

“Yes.”

“You got in trouble in school,” he whispered.

School. That spanned twelve years from kindergarten through high school. But they were both focused on the same incident.

The time in seventh grade when she'd been stupid enough to tell the teacher that Clarence Myers had cheated on his history test.

As far as Mr. Ellis was concerned, there was no way for her to know about the cheating incident, since Clarence sat on the other side of the room. So she'd been under suspicion, too.

Mr. Ellis had sent them both to detention. Which hadn't improved relations with Clarence.

“After that, you kept your mouth shut,” Zach said. It was difficult to talk because of the arousal buzzing below the surface of the conversation. Every one of his senses was alive and tuned to Anna.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, he pulled her into his arms, crushing her breasts against his chest, entranced by the intimate contact.

At the same time, he pulled another memory from her mind and drew in a quick breath.

“Your parents…left you with a bunch of debts.”

“Yes,” she answered.

“But you figured out how to pay them off, then support yourself.”

She nodded.

He stroked his hands up and down her back.

The dream last night had been startling. This was more immediate. The flow of information back and forth made him feel like his brain was on fire, and at the same time it fueled a sensation of power that astonished him.

In the dream, she had dipped into his past. Now he was picking up facts from her.

But coherent exchange was overwhelmed by lust. Or maybe need was a more polite word.

He might have laughed at his attempt at political correctness, when now that he had Anna in his arms, he knew he would die if he didn't have her.

Or maybe he would die if he did.

She raised her head, staring at him, the mixture of intense heat and fear on her face making his throat tighten.

“We can't,” she whispered.

“We have to,” he answered.

“I don't…”

“Make love with a guy you just met?”

“Yes.”

“But you know me better than anyone else in the world knows me. And now I can make it go the other way.”

He dug for her memories, like a prospector digging for precious metals. The time she'd stepped into a nest of ground hornets and gotten terribly stung. The birthday cake she'd baked for her mom when she was only ten. And then her disastrous first sexual encounter with Sammy Lowen.

“Oh, Lord, don't bring that up now.”

“It will be a lot different with us. Because each of us knows exactly what the other wants.”

He wasn't sure why he knew that was true. But he knew he had to prove it. Tenderly, he cupped her breast, finding her nipple through the thin fabric of her blouse, loving the feel of the hard bud against his fingertips.

His breath caught. He sensed her reaction, but it was more than that. He knew how it felt for her, the heated sensation shooting downward through her body, striking at her core, creating an explosion of sexual desire.

That's how it is for a woman.

The thought darted into his mind. And he knew she had picked it up when she answered,
Yes.

He didn't understand what was happening. All he knew was that the physical contact, the arousal, opened the gate between his mind and hers in a way he had never imagined. A way that should be impossible. Yet here they were—both so open and vulnerable that his heart squeezed.

Because he wanted her to trust him, he bared himself to her. And when she found the memory of the time he first rode a bucking bronco—and landed on his ass—she smiled inside his mind.

“Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her and leaned back on the sofa, bringing her down on top of him, loving the way the length of her body fit against his—starting with the wonderful pressure of her breasts against his chest and moving downward to the way her hips cradled his erection.

She moved against his cock, and he gasped, so hard now that he felt like he might explode.

That's how it is for a man. Focused there.

God yes.

Claiming more of her had suddenly become the only goal he could imagine. As he stroked one hand down her body, pressing her closer, he tangled his other hand in her hair, bringing her mouth to his.

He rubbed his lips against hers, marveling at their softness as he urged her to open for him. She made a small sound as she deepened the contact, and he drank in the sweet taste of her.

He had been obsessed with her since the moment he had seen the poster. Then some unseen force had transported the two of them to that high, windswept plain. It felt like that had been months ago—and he had been waiting to make love to her all this time.

Now they were alone. Not in a fantasy. Or in a dream. They were in a land they had created together, a land filled with riches beyond his imagining. And yet at the same time, he knew they were in the lounge of his boat. Docked in Palmiro.

And they were lying on a narrow sofa. Not the place where he wanted to make love to her for the first time.

He shifted their positions, helping her up, his hand locked with hers. She didn't ask where they were going as they staggered on unsteady legs down the companionway to the stateroom he used when he slept on board. Where the bed was wider and more comfortable.

She didn't question him when he fumbled with the buttons of her blouse and threw the garment on the floor, then pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it after her blouse.

As he reached around her, she leaned into him, pushing down the elastic waistband of her loose-fitting white slacks while he unhooked her bra.

The tight fabric of his jeans had turned into a form of torture. And while he was thinking about that, she opened the snap at the waistband, then lowered his zipper.

Thanks.

He pushed the jeans down, along with his shorts, his cock springing free as he kicked the clothing away.

Once again, she started to tell him they were going too fast.

I know. It's fast for me, too.
He gave her a questioning look.
Or maybe not. Maybe it's been building for years.

She raised her head, staring at him.
How?

This morning, the dream wouldn't let me go. So I went out on the water, because that's where my mind works best. And I think I realized something about us.
He swallowed hard.
This is almost too weird to say. But did you have an imaginary friend when you were a kid? A boy who lived out West?

Her breath caught.
Yes.

I did too. A girl named Annie.

She stared at him, trying to take it in.

We
knew
each other? How?

I don't know! But maybe we're finally meeting in person.

Oh Lord. Could that be true? Or are you just saying that to get me to cooperate?

How could I lie to you now?

I guess you can't. What did I call you?

Mac. You said Zach wasn't a proper name.

She winced, because she remembered how high-handed she'd been.

He cupped her breasts, bringing her back to the intensity of the present.

 

BILL
Cody walked down the dock like he belonged there. Maybe he was a kid delivering a message to someone on one of the boats. Or maybe he was the chicken hawk fucking one of the sailors. He didn't care what anyone thought—as long as nobody questioned his presence there.

His footsteps grew quiet as he neared the boat into which Anna Ridgeway and the man had disappeared. The
Odysseus
.

The dive boat where the crew had quit.

Creeping closer, he heard their heavy breathing. Heard the rustle of clothing, and he knew what they were doing.

Fucking.

Good.

That would keep them occupied for a while—long enough for him to get instructions from Jim Stone.

 

LOST
in that magic that he and Anna made together, Zach gathered her close, kissing her deeply, drinking from her essence as they swayed together.

She eased her head away, looking at him with large, luminous eyes, and he saw the mixture of his own emotions echoed there.

He had always been alone. Always alone. Except for the playmate he had conjured up. Or maybe she had reached out to him. That seemed the likely scenario.

Why did you leave me?

I don't know. I lost you, and I couldn't find you again.

With those silent words came profound sadness. He remembered something then. He'd been very sick. With scarlet fever. He'd never been that sick before or since. He'd been lying in bed with a raging fever, out of his head—having hallucinations. And when he'd gotten his mind back, his friend had been gone. He'd tried to reach her, but the connection had snapped. And finally he'd made himself forget the pain of the loss of her.

She picked all that up from him in an instant, her eyes wide.

I was in Maryland. You were in Montana. A long way away.

And now…?

And now they gazed at each other, both unsteady on their feet, both coping with what must be their shared past—and their present. Tangled together in ways they didn't understand.

Before he fell over and embarrassed himself, he moved his mouth to hers while he lowered her to the bed and followed her down.

She never lifted her mouth from his as they tumbled together onto the blue duvet. The way she responded to him made his head spin. And he didn't just sense her arousal; he felt it as she felt it, his mind capturing the sensations heating her from the inside out.

He'd already discovered that it was the same for her. She was in his head, too. Sharing his physical responses as he shared hers.

He groaned, caught up in his needs—and hers.

She wanted him to touch her breast again. Easing his chest away from hers, he rolled them to their sides, then lowered his head, swirling his tongue around one of her nipples, then sucking it into his mouth as he brought his thumb and finger to its mate, pulling and squeezing, knowing just how strongly she wanted him to do it.

He felt her pleasure as he heard her breath catch, felt her arch into the caress.

He wanted more. Needed more.

More. More.

The urgency wrapped itself around them, making it hard for him to breathe. Hard to think.

Yet at the edge of the pleasure, something prickled in his brain. Danger. His mind screamed danger. Not from without. From their minds—probing at each other. Making connections. Forging new circuits—and maybe burning them out.

What's happening?

The silent question was like a gasp in his mind.

Too much!
She answered her own question, her hand pressing against his shoulder.

Not enough,
he countered.

To his relief, he felt her surrender to the power of the moment.

To the power of their mutual need.

Reaching down, she clasped his cock again, and he knew she was deliberately exploring what the intimate touch felt like to him.

He wanted that, too. Wanted to touch her intimately and at the same time know what she felt when he did it. His hand slid down her body, and his fingers parted her slick, swollen folds, lingering there before dipping inside her.