Mels, on the other hand? This was different. She was different.
Except he could never have her properly, not with the way his body was.
“What’s wrong?” she said again.
He didn’t want her to know. Even if she found out later, he wanted to preserve the illusion he was a real man for a little longer. Assuming he saw her again.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he hedged. Which was the truth. So much of this whole thing—from waking up at the foot of Heron’s headstone to the accident with her—didn’t feel right. It was almost as if things were being lined up for him, as if his memory had been taken from him for a purpose.
“Neither can I,” she replied, focusing on his mouth like she wanted some more.
She didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who was into random hookups. She didn’t dress like a whore, move like one, act like one. And she was giving off a hesitant but open vibe, like it might have been a while for her, but she really wanted things to happen.
Tell her to go, he thought. Impotence aside, there were so many other reasons they shouldn’t be together tonight. Or ever.
Stretching out next to her again, he tucked his hand around her waist and pulled her to him—but not too close. Not against his hips.
God, she smelled good.
And the feelings were all there in his body, the heat coiling at his pelvis, his heartbeat going urgent, his arms and legs seeming even stronger than they had been. His cock was not with the program, however.
But maybe that was better because he needed to tell her—
“Can I make you feel good?” he blurted.
Okay, that was supposed to have come out as “good night.”
“You already have.”
“I’m damn sure I can do better.”
“Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of excellence.”
As he went in and kissed her again, he wondered what she would look like with her shirt open and her bra off, her breasts ready for his mouth, the smooth skin of her stomach leading him down to other territory.
This was incredibly good, all of it, and it seemed so new to him—and not just because he’d never been with Mels before. It felt like he’d never been with anyone. Then again, as far as his memory was concerned…there hadn’t been anybody before her—
From out of nowhere, an image sliced through his senses. Him and a woman with smooth, dark skin, up against a wall. He had his hand around her throat and her legs around his hips, and he was banging the ever-loving shit out of her—
Matthias jerked back. All at once images flooded his mind, a chronological lineup of every woman he’d been with—young ones, when he’d been young; older, racier ones as he had grown up; then a series of extremely edgy, highly aggressive females.
He saw himself with them all, his body strong and whole, his emotions clear and uncluttered, his heart cold as stone. He saw the women, naked, or half-clothed, armed and unarmed, coming in great bursts of contortion.
“What are you remembering?” Mels asked remotely.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the rush of namesfacesplaces was a deluge he couldn’t get out from under, the onslaught clogging his neurons, rendering him nearly unconscious. And as he sagged, he felt himself get eased back against the pillows, no longer the dominant one.
Bringing his hands up to his head, he cursed.
“I’m calling the doctor—”
Matthias snapped out a hold, catching her wrist. “No. I’m okay—”
“The hell you are.”
“Just give me a minute.”
He breathed shallowly and decided to try giving up the fight. This was the right answer; instead of slamming into him, the memories passed through, the process of the revelations easing. At least…until the end. The final recollection was of him with a…monster of some sort? Must be a nightmare he’d had…but, oh, God, she was hideous, and she was taking him as a way to own him in a dungeon at the base of a long, black well—
Panic acted like jumper cables, hitting Matthias so hard he jerked from the chest, his torso contracting tight. But he kept a hold on Mels’s wrist, making sure she stayed with him instead of hitting the phone.
“Please,” he heard her say.
“No…doctor…it’s fading now…”
Eventually, he released her, ditched the sunglasses, and rubbed his eyes. “You’d think when things came back, it would be slow and easy.”
“Can I please get you some medical attention?” She brought up a binder and put it in front of his face. “See? Hotel services has a Doc-in-a-box on call.”
“No, honest, I’m all right. It was just overwhelming. I think we take for granted how much we store up in here.” He tapped his skull. “Lot of information.”
“What kind are we talking about.”
He glanced away. “Well, I’m definitely not a virgin. And let’s leave it there.”
“Oh.”
There was an awkward stretch of quiet. And then Mels cleared her throat.
“You know what, I think I should go.”
“Yeah.”
She got off the bed. Picked up her coat. Put it on. “Before I leave…” She came over and wrote something on the little pad on the bedside table. “Here’s my cell again—”
A ringing sound came out of her pocket.
“Speak of the devil,” he murmured, watching her finish the seven digits before she answered the call.
“Hello?” Her voice was brisk and professional, and he liked that shift of gears, that she could pull it together so fast.
Then again, he liked a lot about the woman.
Mels frowned. “Where? Do we have a ‘who’ on her? How did she die…Really. Yeah, I’m coming right now. I have Tony’s car still—yup.” She ended the call and grabbed her bag. “I have to go.”
“Something’s on the record?”
“And my boss must be having a change of heart. He’s actually sending me to a crime scene.”
“He doesn’t recognize your skills?”
“Not the kind I want him to notice, no.” She paused at the door. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Have you always been a saint,” he murmured.
“Not until I met you.”
Just as she ducked out, he said, “Mels.”
She turned her head over her shoulder, the light from above the door falling on her face. As their eyes met, he would have traded every one of those hookups he’d just seen for a single night with her.
I’m not coming out of this alive, he thought.
So if he ever got a chance to kiss her again, he wasn’t going to stop. And who knew, maybe the second try would be the charm.
Assuming there wasn’t another volume on his greatest-hits-that DVD.
“Wear your seat belt,” he ordered in a low tone.
“Call a damn doctor,” she tossed back with a little smile.
As the door shut behind her, he cursed at it. And then thought about how it had felt to kiss her.
Glancing down at his hips, he found himself wishing he was a whole man once again.
Chapter Eighteen
The bar in the lobby of the Marriott was named after the original hotel owner, Something-something Sasseman. At least, that’s what the waitress told Adrian in a husky, come-hither voice while she took his and Jim’s beer orders. She also found an excuse to drop her pen and bend over, and then walked off like her pelvis had recently been to Jiffy Lube and gotten over-oiled.
Then again, the rest of the clientele in here were leering businessmen likely on the varsity Viagra team, and she was a POA in her midtwenties.
Back in the Eddie days, he would have gone for her in a heartbeat.
Now? File the whole thing under “Meh.”
The booth he and Jim were in was covered in red pleather and made sounds that were juuuuust this side of a whoopee cushion anytime one of them shifted positions. The thing was perfect for their purpose, however: It faced out through the fat aperture of the bar at the lobby. No one came or went without their seeing.