A Thin Disguise by Catherine Bybee

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Leo had made a habit out of sitting in the room on the upper floor surrounded by bedrooms.

He would wait for the light under Olivia’s door to turn off, and then give it a good hour before heading to bed himself.

Neil’s words about how the woman would leave the second she gained her memories were a constant threat. “You won’t see it, you won’t sense it . . . she’ll just be gone.”

The thought scared the living hell out of him.

He cared for her.

Probably more than he should. But his brain and his heart were in the middle of a war, and his dick was taking sides.

He closed his laptop, set it aside, and stared out the window. Snow had started to fall right before the house quieted for the night. Bets were placed on how much would accumulate before they woke up in the morning.

Leo imagined Olivia lying down to make a snow angel. Entirely too soft for her, she’d much more likely be hiding behind a tree with an arsenal of snowballs ready to catch you as you walked by.

He smiled into the image, and then he heard her.

Olivia shouted from her room.

Leo jumped up and over the sofa and was at her door in seconds.

He pushed it open, heard footsteps behind him.

She was alone, in her bed . . . asleep.

A rush of words he couldn’t understand came out from the obvious nightmare.

Isaac looked over Leo’s shoulder.

He lifted a hand, realizing the threat was only in Olivia’s head. “I’ve got this.”

Isaac sighed, turned to the camera facing them in the hall, and shook his head. “We’re good.”

Leo moved into the room and closed the door behind him. He moved to the edge of her bed and sat at her side.

“Olivia?” he whispered.

Her hands were clenched, brow furrowed. Her words sharp. At first, he thought she was just muttering gibberish, then he recognized the sounds.

German.

Olivia was speaking German in her sleep.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Olivia? Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

She thrashed.

He said her name louder, and the next thing he realized, her hands darted up, straight to his neck, and he was on his back on the floor with her hovering over him.

Leo grabbed her wrists and squeezed out her name. “’Livia.”

Her eyes were stark-raving wild. And he was having serious difficulty breathing.

Something snapped inside of her, and her hands jolted off his neck almost as quickly as they’d clasped on.

“Oh my God.”

The door to the room flew open.

“What the hell is going on?”

Isaac’s image at the door cleared through the fuzz in Leo’s brain.

“I’m sorry.” Olivia pulled her hair back, looked at his neck. “Did I hurt you?”

“Leo?” Isaac said.

Sasha and Lars had joined the party.

“I’m okay,” he coughed. “She woke up confused.”

“Olivia? Are you all right?” Sasha asked.

Olivia’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. She sat back, her body still straddling Leo’s. “I’m fine.”

Not that she sounded convinced.

“Leo?”

He dropped his hands to his side. “I’m good. We’re good.”

“Okay, boys. Show’s over.” Sasha ushered the others away and closed the door.

Olivia shifted her weight off his body. Her butt hit the floor, and her back moved to the side of the bed.

“What is wrong with me?”

Leo pushed himself up until he was sitting beside her.

He noticed a bottle of water on her bedside table and reached for it. Once the water went down the right pipe, giving him some assurance that nothing inside was broken, he returned what was left to the nightstand.

“I scared you. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“Maybe it’s not normal . . . but it is okay.”

“I was dreaming.”

“It sounded more like a nightmare. I heard you from the other room and came in to check. When you didn’t wake up right away, I nudged you.”

She leaned her head back, closed her eyes. “I was in hell. Burning flesh and piercing rocks. And then I was in the stacks at school. We were trying not to get caught. Then someone came behind me and put a hand over my mouth. And then I’m kneeling over you trying to break your windpipe.”

He reached over and clasped her cold hand in his. “Just a dream.”

“I could have hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

She squeezed his hand back. “I could have.”

Yeah . . . Leo would never underestimate her ability to lay him flat if she wanted to.

“What are the stacks?” he asked, picking apart her dream.

She sighed. “The bookshelves in the library. We called them the stacks.” Olivia held her breath, looked at him. “Oh my God, Leo. I remember the library at school. There was a boy. It was late . . . everyone was asleep. We went there to make out.”

“Was this a dream or a memory?” he asked.

She blinked several times, something he’d started to notice more and more as she was searching her thoughts. Almost like a blinking cursor on a computer letting you know it was ready for its next command.

“Both . . . I think.”

“You called the library the stacks. Why?”

“The shelves were massive, floor to ceiling. The library was huge. Not Harry Potter huge, but vast. Old. The smell of old books and oiled wood. And fire.”

“That sounds more like a bad dream.”

She nodded. “The fire, yes. That dream is the same every time, but the stacks and the boy . . . that felt familiar.”

“Do you remember his name?”

She shook her head.

He held his breath. “What about the school?”

She placed her fingertips on her head. “It’s right there. So damn close.”

He released a breath. Frustrated for her, but thankful at the same time. If she doesn’t remember, she won’t leave when no one was looking.

Her hand fell on top of his.

She smiled and climbed back over on him, her legs straddling his. “I do remember my first kiss.” She wore a T-shirt and panties . . . and nothing else.

His body was uninterested in her words and much more excited about the weight of her resting on top of him.

“Is that so?” he asked.

“It was wet and sloppy.”

Leo relaxed his grip and rested his hands on her hips. “Did you give him a second chance?” he asked.

She blinked a few times. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

For whatever reason, that made him smile. “Do it right or move along?”

Both her hands came up to his neck, gently this time. “I am sorry.” She leaned forward and kissed where she’d placed her hands.

“Did you mean to try and hurt me?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“No.”

“Then your apology isn’t necessary.”

She stopped kissing his neck long enough to look him in the eye. “Stealing my lines?”

“Maybe.”

She inched over, kissed the other side.

The soft slide of her tongue brought the spark in his belly he’d grown to expect any time they’d touched before.

His fingers dug into her hips when she grazed her teeth on the edge of his ear.

“Your kiss isn’t wet or sloppy,” she whispered.

“I guess that means I get another chance.” He turned his head, and she was right there, leaning into him.

Her lips were hot, open, and she pressed into him as if she could absorb him with a kiss.

His hands fanned inside her T-shirt and up her bare back, careful not to touch the scar she’d recently obtained. Did she even notice it anymore? Would he ever be able to hold her and not think about her lying on the dirty streets of Las Vegas? He wanted to take all that pain away. Give her something in return. Maybe this was it. This moment together. He had no power to resist her, not like this with her squeezing her thighs into his hips as they kissed, his erection painfully pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

He wanted to touch more . . . feel more.

And sitting on the hard floor was not going to work for what he wanted to do for her.

He dropped his hands to her hips and started to lift her off.

“We’re not stopping,” she demanded, her breath hot on his cheek.

“Not unless you tell me to.”

She smiled and moved to her feet.

The very core of her was eye level, her panties outlining her sex.

He heard her chuckle. “What are you looking at, Mr. FBI?”

He leaned forward, placed his mouth on her through the thin material between her legs.

Olivia stopped laughing, her hand falling on top of his head.

He reached for the soft globes of her butt and pulled her closer. The scent of her, the heat . . . he wanted more of this.

Her knees buckled just enough.

Leo pulled away, kissed his way up her body as he stood. He stopped at her navel and let her shirt fall back down.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked once he was standing over her.

“I think we’ve danced around this party long enough . . . don’t you?”

There was no way this was going to end well, but he couldn’t stop himself. No, he didn’t want to stop himself. This beautiful, vibrant woman . . . the person he knew right then, was diamonds and light and asking to be touched. Whoever she’d been before didn’t matter.

They both had a past, and she knew no more about his than she did about hers. So what did it matter?

“You’re beautiful,” he told her.

“You’re stalling.” She reached for the button of his jeans.

He shook his head, turned her around so her back was to the bed. “No. I just want you to know that this means something to me.”

That teasing smile dimmed, just a little, and her eyelids started to blink. And then she sighed, reached for his face. “I don’t remember anyone I’ve slept with.”

He liked that. “Do you think you’re a virgin?” At first he thought it was a joke . . . then he paused.

Olivia looked at him and they both started chuckling. “No,” they said at the same time.

A gentle nudge and she was lying flat on the bed, her hands stretched over her head. “Not too wet, and not too sloppy.”

She laughed.

He dropped to his knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed, inched his hands up her thighs, and tugged at the panties that had been in the way and tossed them on the floor. “Hello, beautiful.”

Olivia opened and he moved in.

The first orgasm slammed into her so hard and so fast she saw stars.

She hadn’t been lying when she told Leo that she didn’t remember any man she’d had sex with, but as her body shuddered under the talent of Leo’s tongue, she knew orgasms like that were rare.

Leo looked at her through the frame of her legs. His smile said it all.

“Proud of yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am.”

She needed to catch her breath. “You have too many clothes on.”

He reached behind and pulled his shirt off in one movement. He used his shirt to wipe the moisture from his lips and tossed it to the floor.

The man made her feel so alive. Sexy, yes . . . wanted . . . absolutely. But alive. While she didn’t quite understand the meaning behind that, she didn’t think it was common for her.

Olivia sat up on her elbows to watch him undress.

Oh, yeah . . . her initial assessment of the man still panned out. As he dropped his pants to the floor and kicked off his shoes, his erection said, Hello, how can I serve you while standing at full attention.

Full being the key word.

“Nice,” she muttered.

He placed a knee on the bed.

“There’re condoms in the drawer,” she told him.

His eyes lit up in surprise.

“Sasha thought we might need them.”

He laughed, reached for the nightstand. “Very thoughtful of her.”

He removed the box, looked it over, and ripped the cellophane from the package. He dumped the contents on the bed, picked up one of the smaller sizes and tossed it over his shoulder.

Olivia laughed.

He went through a few more before finding one that would actually fit. “I’m going to have to have a talk with AJ.” He set the condom aside and crawled up the length of her body. He captured her lips and pressed her back into the mattress.

The weight of him was a continuous, sensual delight from his knees to his mouth. His hand traveled up her side and tugged at her shirt. “Can I?”

She found the question odd until he pulled it from her shoulders and looked at her. He leaned forward and kissed the outside of the scar she’d have for the rest of her life. He moved to the second one on the side of her chest where the doctor had placed that tube to help her breathe.

Fascinated by the way he was being so careful, she stared.

He looked up, his smile soft. “If I do anything that hurts you . . .”

“You’re not hurting me,” she told him. Except for that tiny pull in her heart she didn’t want to name.

He moved past her scars and pulled one nipple into his mouth.

All the parts of her that had simmered started firing up again.

She raked her fingernails down his back, over his ass, and reached around front. His cock was pressed against her leg, and she stroked what she could at the angle they were in.

He wiggled his hips, giving her better access.

“Hello, Mr. FBI.”

He chuckled over her breast, caught her flesh in a soft bite.

She squirmed.

“Do that again,” she told him.

He did.

He kissed, nibbled, and stroked every part of her, exciting and prolonging her pleasure with the process. She followed his pace, kiss for kiss, fondle for fondle. Many times she felt the need to rush, wanted to roll him onto his back and take control, but then he’d find another part of her that he hadn’t cared for, and she was right back to arching into his touch and enjoying all the sensations he was bringing out in her.

Everything he was doing felt so new, unique to him . . . to them together.

And when they finally couldn’t wait any longer, she reached for the condom and opened the wrapper.

She helped him roll it on and invited him in.

Leo reached for her hands, intertwining their fingers, and slowly sunk into her body.

It was like she couldn’t breathe, the feeling was so complete. “So good, Leo. This is . . . you are . . .”

He was smiling a fool’s grin when she opened her eyes to look at him.

He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed her fingers. “We are . . .”

Slowly, he made himself comfortable.

Inside, her body trembled, each pass harder to control than the next.

Leo’s lips found hers, his tongue mimicking what his body was doing. Her legs wrapped around his waist, giving him a better angle, placing him exactly where she wanted until rational thoughts just stopped swimming in her head and all she could see was the finish line. She guided him . . . faster, slower . . . right there. Until she was calling his name and flexing every internal muscle she possessed.

Once again she dropped her hands to her sides, lax in his care.

“Very nice,” she heard him say.

Her eyes opened, she looked down. The man was still rock hard and inside of her.

She took that as a challenge.

A flick of her hips and a tuck of his shoulder and she had him on his back. “Okay, Superman . . . it’s my turn.”

She sat up tall, welcomed his hands on her breasts, and started to ride.

“Aww, fuck,” he muttered, his eyes rolling back in his head.