“You again,” she muttered. A look that might have been fear came and went in her eyes as she glanced around.
Bugger—what if they caught up? If they saw that . . .
He couldn’t keep up with her thoughts—her shields were too solid, and once she’d shored them up, he could only follow fleeting glimpses.
There was enough, though, to let him know she was afraid.
Very afraid.
Who would follow you? he wanted to ask. Why be so afraid?
But now wasn’t the time.
For either of them.
But he wasn’t about to let her leave so soon. Advancing on her, he watched as she backed away one step. Then another. “I guess I shouldn’t be pawing you in the middle of the sidewalk,” he said, crooking a smile at her.
She arched a brow. “It would be nice.”
“I’ll do it there, then.” He glanced over her shoulder, watched as she did the same. A blush crept up her cheeks as she eyed the motel. “You think I’m going to let you grab us a quicky motel? I don’t even know your—”
She stopped abruptly, swallowed.
“My what?” he asked.
She paused, eyeing him nervously for a moment. “Your name. I don’t even know your name.”
Joss continued to walk forward, one slow step at a time, waiting until she backed up. A few more steps had them in the shadow of a big RV—exactly where he’d been planning. “Now that’s not true, baby girl. You know my name just fine.”
“No.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t.”
But the echo in her mind said otherwise.
Grinning at her, Joss dipped down and nuzzled her neck. “Liar . . .”
As his lips cruised along her bare skin, she groaned and arched her head back. “This is insane. Completely insane.”
“Yeah.” He traced a path along her skin with his tongue, heat punching inside him at the taste of her. It was different. She was different. Stronger. Wiser. Sadder. And she didn’t remember him, but he didn’t care. That may change and it may not, but he didn’t fucking care. She was here, she was with him, and some part of her knew him. He could tell, could feel it.
As she pressed closer to him, he slid a hand around her and curved it over her lower back, spread his fingers wide until he could feel the firm curve of her ass. Lifting his head, he said, “What’s my name, Dru?”
She stared at him through her lashes, a dazed look in her eyes. Shaking her head, she leaned in, seeking out his mouth.
He wasn’t about to argue with that. When she opened for him, he tugged her closer. The feel of her, all soft and warm and female, was almost too much. Through the sturdy fabric of the sports bra she wore, he could feel the soft swells of her breasts, and he wanted to peel the material off her, lick away the sweat, then make her sweat again . . . as he brought her to climax a dozen times.
His cock ached, throbbed, and each light brush as she moved against him was the sweetest torment.
Fisting his hand in her tank top, he dragged it up, baring skin damp from her run. Higher, higher, until it caught under her arms. Leaning back, he stared down at her. The utilitarian black sports bra shouldn’t have been so fucking sexy, but it was. She could have worn sackcloth and ashes and she’d still be beautiful to him.
In his mind’s eye, an image from a time long past drifted—her standing before him, in white petticoats edged with lace, presenting him with her back and asking for his help in lacing up her corset.
Swearing, he dipped his knees and wrapped his arm around her hips, boosting her high. Her breasts were on level with his mouth and he nuzzled them, wishing he could strip her naked, take her here.
“Joss . . .” she gasped out.
* * *
THE look in his eyes should have infuriated her. It was amusement, mixed with triumph . . . and something else. But as he dipped his head and brushed his lips along the edge of her sports bra, all she could do was cradle the back of his neck and wish she could get even closer. “You do know my name,” he murmured, pleased.
“We’re out in public,” she snapped, reaching for the icy, snotty tone she’d crafted and refined so long ago. Really, it should have worked.