Why had it taken her so long to remember?
Moving into the small partitioned area set up evidently for those not interested in partaking of the men’s antics, Liza sat down slowly on the surprisingly comfortable sofa that faced the gym.
Placing the laptop on the coffee table, she wiped her hands over her face before pushing her fingers through her hair and breathing out roughly.
That path to that non-real place was closed to her now. It had been closed to her since the night Stygian had made love to her.
Or mated her.
But the dreams were still there, and this time, the dreams weren’t evading her memory once she awoke.
“God, this is so crazy.”
Lifting her head, she stared out at the gym, watching with a sense of envy as the four men were indeed pounding each other into the mats.
Hell, she hadn’t even known this room was here. If she had, she would have called Claire and asked her to join her. They could have invited Ashley and Emma—.
Her lips twisted mockingly. Perhaps she wouldn’t have. They obviously knew the room existed and hadn’t suggested it the few times she had talked to them.
But, if she had, maybe she wouldn’t have had the chance to watch the spectacle she was watching now.
Flint came at Stygian with a hard flying kick, catching his powerful shoulder and doing no more than kicking him back. Gripping Flint’s ankle, Stygian twisted it, hard. The other man flipped midair, following the direction that could have twisted his ankle from his leg before jerking free.
Coming to a crouch, Flint barely managed to jump out of the way as Stygian threw a hard side kick his way. Without giving the other Breed a chance to recover, Stygian was at him again.
A hard jab to the jaw jerked Flint’s head back even as he delivered another into the younger Breed’s hard, muscle-packed abdomen.
Flint went back. Barely catching himself, he managed to recover and send a hard jab to the side of Stygian’s face.
The sound of fist meeting flesh and bone caused Liza to wince despite the fascination she was feeling.
The fascination as well as the arousal beginning to build between her thighs. Her clit was so swollen she was suddenly, heatedly, all too aware of the fact that it had been more than forty-eight hours since he had last touched her.
Since he had last kissed her.
And his kiss was simply…delicious.
It tasted just a little bit like cinnamon candy, coffee and chocolate. She loved cinnamon candy, coffee and chocolate, especially when she tasted it in his kiss.
Pressing her thighs together, she reminded herself she really didn’t have time to consider his kiss right now. Or his touch. Or the way the tip of his tongue did that little swirly thing around her clit.
She couldn’t consider the pleasure right now, or how much she had missed it. She definitely didn’t want to consider how good it would feel to have him moving over her, moving inside her.
The feel of her vagina clenching, the moisture spilling to the folds beyond was so sensual, so incredibly erotic when combined with the memory of his kiss that she swore the hunger clenching her womb would make her crazy.
She wanted him now.
Ached for him now.
And he was too busy sparring with his buddies to even care.
She was ready to roll her eyes at herself at this point.
Jerking the laptop open and pulling up the Navajo Remote Database, Liza reminded herself that she was the one that couldn’t handle her own life at the moment. Stygian hadn’t asked her to allow the confusion and fear building inside her to come between them.
She had done that herself.
Opening the Community Center file, she tried to concentrate on the plans to renovate and add the nursery wing to the new center that had been built on the western edge of town a few years before. She’d been in charge of raising the money, and they’d completed raising the funds several months before for the expansion as well as additional computers for the after-school tutoring program.
She was halfway through the file when the odd flick of the screen she’d been experiencing for the past several weeks happened again. Frowning, she scrolled lower, wondering why her father hadn’t been able to fix it while he’d had the laptop the week before. As it flickered again, she made the ultimate mistake of lifting her gaze and allowing the sparring session in the gym to catch her attention again.
For the past two days she’d fought with herself, forced herself to piece together fragments of memories, to find a resolution inside herself. To accept what she knew, who she knew she was. The need for him had been beneath the surface, the hunger for him had always been there, at the edge of her thoughts and her need. But the need to know who she was, and why she believed she was Liza Johnson, had taken so much of her that she’d had no choice but to step back and piece together the bits she knew, the fragments of dreams, the memories that hadn’t really seemed like memories.
She wasn’t who she thought she was, but there was no way to prove it to herself. There wasn’t a single memory, a single dream or instance that she could use to pinpoint that she was Honor Roberts or Fawn Corrigan. There were no memories of either that she could pull free.
As she watched the Breeds sparring, she suddenly stiffened as Flint’s fist went for her mate’s face.
Stygian jumped back from the jab to his face but not before it connected.
His lip was split, the reddened hint of blood marring the perfect male curve.
Ah hell, Flint had split Stygian’s lip?
Wouldn’t that make kissing her later painful?
She could kiss the little boo-boo.
Licking her lips at the thought, her breasts swelled further at the surge of hunger racing through her body while her clit pulsed in renewed need.
Renewed? No, not renewed, it hadn’t stopped pulsing since she’d first watched them sparring.
She wanted to spar with him. She wanted to have him take her down, strip her pants from her body, lift her to her knees and fuck her into a screaming orgasm.
Was that seriously too much to ask?
It wasn’t like she wouldn’t be willing to give as well.
Her tongue ran over her lips again, almost involuntarily this time. She could remember the taste of him, the strength and power of the broad head of his shaft.
So broad.
She’d heard Wolf and Coyote Breeds were thicker than normal, their cocks broad enough to stretch a woman until she was certain it was impossible to take him.
Their experience, she had heard, ensured their lovers took them, perhaps not with ease, but definitely with pleasure.
Exquisite, heated, torturous pleasure.
Moisture rushed from her vagina, slickening, preparing—
Clenching her thighs, she forced back a moan and fought to return her attention to the file she was working on. And the occasional flicker of the screen that was more irritating than an actual problem.
Or, it would have been if her mind was actually on the file she was supposed to be working on.
Returning her gaze to the gym and the combatants still going at one another, the urge to be on the mat with her mate was only growing stronger.
She wanted to be the one sparring with him.
She was his mate for a reason.
She wasn’t the hothouse flower he so obviously believed she was.
This hothouse flower was one week from final testing before her induction into one of the most professional, most secretive rescue forces in the world.
She could spar with him.
She highly doubted she could take him, but she knew he would take her.
Sensually.
Erotically.