Remember Ramsey by Cynthia Eden

Chapter Eight

Observation notes: Ramsey took me to a house on the beach tonight. His home. I don’t think that he allows many people inside his sanctuary. I actually don’t think he allows many people close at all. He has a wall up to keep everyone out.

I want to shatter that wall into a million pieces.

***

“This place isn’t what I expected.” Whitney stared down at the dark beach below. She could hear the thunder of the waves. Her hand was curled around the stem of her wine glass. The taste of the sweet wine lingered on her tongue.

“What did you think? That I lived in some kind of mobster’s paradise? A house behind a giant wall with dozens of guards?”

She felt the light breeze brush over her skin. “I’m sure you have plenty of security here.” She’d caught sight of the cameras. “And, no, I was hardly expecting you to be surrounded by a seven-foot brick wall or to have Dobermans running around your property.”

“Dobermans are great dogs. Intelligent. Loyal. Fearless.” He came closer to her. His arm brushed against hers as he looked over the balcony.

“When I said the home surprised me, it’s because you don’t strike me as someone who is big on material things. I know you own your bar, but you mostly drive that motorcycle that has to be at least ten years old, and I’ve never seen you waste your time at the trendy spots or gala events.”

“Why the hell would I go to places like that? People would just stare at me and whisper. Or they’d try to photograph me, and then I’d have to smash their fancy phones.”

She slanted a quick glance toward him.

“But you’re wrong about material things not mattering. They do. Or at least, some material things matter.” A soft exhale. “I lived in a piece of shit trailer when I was a kid. My dad was drunk or high most days, when he wasn’t in jail. My mom was dead.” He stared into the dark. “Growing up, I always dreamed of having a big house. So big that no one would say I was trash anymore.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever been trash.” And it made her furious that anyone had ever said that about him.

He took the wine glass from her. Put it on the balcony’s edge. His fingers curled with hers. “I’m not good enough for you.”

How could he think that?

“I knew it the first time I saw you. You didn’t belong in my bar, and you sure as hell don’t belong in my bed.”

Her heart shoved hard against her chest. “How about you let me decide where I belong?” Then she rose onto her tiptoes and her mouth brushed against his.

The surge hit her—that hard pulse of awareness that arched through her body every single time they kissed. She’d never get used to it. Desire danced in her blood, and she pressed her body even closer against him.

His mouth was open, so she dipped her tongue inside. His hungry growl just urged her on. He’d brought her to his home. Cooked her dinner. Served her wine. Her favorite wine that he’d magically had on hand.

They’d been growing closer and closer. Sharing secret kisses. Touches that went too far, but not far enough. This night—her first night at his home—she wanted more.

She knew where she belonged, and it was in his arms.

“Make love to me,” Whitney whispered against his mouth.

A shudder worked over his body.

“I want you,” she told him and kissed him again. Her hand had curled around the back of his neck. She could feel his arousal thrusting against her. He was as turned on as she was. Ramsey wanted her just as much as she wanted him—

“No.”

Ice cold water seemed to pour over her. She jerked back. “No?”

“You’re supposed to be so good at reading criminals. At understanding them and figuring out what the hell they think and what drives them.” Under the moonlight, his expression appeared stark. “But you still don’t understand me. I warned you. I tried to tell you…tender kisses and touches aren’t my style. Making love? No, I fuck the women in my life. The sex is dirty and hard and rough, and the pleasure is enough to make you scream. But that’s all it is. A fuck. Fleeting pleasure. With me, you aren’t getting some kind of happily-ever-after deal. It just won’t happen.”

She backed up a step.

He cursed. “I’m not trying to hurt you. Hurting you is the last thing I would ever want to do, but I don’t want you thinking I’m something that I am not. I’m not your prince charming.”

“Who said I was looking for him?”

“You should be looking. And he should be fucking searching the world over for you.”

Her hands fisted. “There you go again!” She spun away from him and took five quick steps toward the open doors that led back into his home. “One minute, you push me away. Then the next, you say something so weirdly sweet and unexpected that I want to jump you.”

“I want you, Whitney. It’s because I want you so much that I have to tell you the truth. You deserve better. More than I can give.”

She threw a hard glance over her shoulder. “I decide what I deserve.”

“I grew up trash. I joined a gang when I was a teenager. I ruled that gang within two years. And the stories in the news? They’re not all wrong. I am not a good man.”

“You’re good to me.”

“To one person in the world…”

“And you’re not bad.” She turned to fully face him. “You think I haven’t seen you when I’ve been in your bar? I see the way you help those people who come to you. You give them money. Jobs. I also know you’re paying for two of your waitresses’ kids to go to college. One of the girls is in my criminal psych class.” Her words were tumbling out too fast. “Just because you did bad things in the past, it doesn’t make you bad. I know you’re more than that. I know you’ve had to fight hard your entire life.” The fighting had only made him stronger. “You do good things. There is so much more to you than the world thinks.”

And that was why he was pushing her away. She understood him, even if he didn’t understand himself. Ramsey truly did think that he didn’t deserve to be with her. Maybe he even thought that he didn’t deserve love.

Too bad.

Too late.

Because Whitney was sure that she was falling in love with him.

“You want me.” She could smell the salt in the air as the waves kept pounding the shore.

“You know I do.”

“You just don’t want me badly enough. Not yet.”

“What?” Ramsey shook his head. “No, trust me. I want you plenty badly. I’m just trying to do the—” He stopped himself.

Too late.

“Right thing?” Whitney taunted. “You need to stop that.” Then her hands slid behind her, and she lowered the zipper of her dress.

Ramsey stiffened. “What are you doing?”

She let the dress fall and pool at her feet. Then she stepped out of her heels and away from the dress. “Isn’t it obvious?” Now she arched her back and unhooked her bra. But before she could let it fall, Ramsey was there.

He’d lunged toward her. His hands grabbed the straps of her bra and held the material in place.

“I have to ask you,” she murmured, “do you usually try to stop women from undressing in front of you? Or am I special?”

“You are very special.” His voice had gone guttural.

“So are you.” She smiled at him as her hands fluttered near her hips. “And I just dropped my panties.”

“Oh, fucking hell.” He looked down. His grip slackened and her bra fell to join the panties. A shudder worked over him. “I was…trying…”

“I get what you were doing. Mostly because I get you. But here’s the thing.” Her hand pressed to his heart. “I want you. If the sex is dirty and rough and wild, then that just sounds like a grand old time to me. We can do dirty and rough. We can do slow and tender, despite you trying to act like you magically can’t. We can do everything. I just want to do it all with you.”

“You need to get inside. Someone else could see you…” His voice became even more growly. “Then I’d have to rip the bastard’s eyes out.”

“Oh, you say the sweetest things.” She rose onto her toes. “Kiss me.”

He did. Whitney could tell the kiss was different. More savage. Possessive. Hungry. Demanding. As if his precious control had finally shattered, and he was giving her the real man that he’d held back.

Ramsey lifted her into his arms. Her bare legs curled around his hips as he carried her back inside. It was cute that he wanted them inside his home. He could have made love to her right there on the balcony, and she would have loved it.

Mental note…Next time, have sex on the balcony. With the waves pounding and the moon shining down on them.

He strode easily through the dark house. His steps never faltered, and his mouth kept coming back to hers. Her legs were tight around him, and the hard fabric of his jeans brushed over her sensitive core. His cock shoved against the front of those jeans—against her—and she just had to ride him. Her hips arched against him even as a moan rumbled from her.

He lowered her onto a bed. A massive four poster with silk sheets. The sheets felt like sweet sin beneath her. And he felt like hot temptation over her. His mouth kissed a fiery trail down her neck and had her twisting beneath him. His nimble fingers teased her nipples.

Her hands slid between them. Whitney fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans. She managed to yank the jeans open, and his heavy cock thrust into her fingers. Her hand closed over him. Squeezed. Pumped.

“Oh, baby, not yet. You touch me much more, and I’ll go crazy.”

He pulled away, and she could have howled in frustration. But then he pushed apart her legs. Brought his mouth down on her. Licked her clit even as he carefully pushed two fingers into her. Her hips flew off the bed as Whitney choked out his name. He was merciless. Determined. His mouth ruthless. He kept licking and tasting even as his fingers stroked in and out of her, and Whitney’s release hit her with the force of a maelstrom.

She opened her mouth to scream even as her hands flew out and fisted around the sheets. “Ram!”

He kept tasting her through the orgasm. Making the pleasure stronger and wilder. So good. Better than anything that had come before.

Then she felt the head of his cock against the entrance to her body.

His fingers closed around the fists she’d made as she grabbed the sheets.

“Look at me.” A sensual order.

Her eyelids lifted.

“No going back.”

“I don’t plan to go anywhere.”

He drove into her.

***

“Whitney? Baby, what’s wrong?”

She felt a touch against her cheek, and Whitney’s eyes flew open. She lurched upright, hauling the black silk sheets with her.

The lamp on the table had been turned on. Light spilled onto the four-poster bed. Ramsey sat on the side of the bed, and his dark, worried gaze was on her.

“You were moaning. I was afraid something was wrong. That you were in pain.”

She didn’t feel like anything hurt. She felt a little flushed and her heart was racing and—

Her attention shifted to the silk sheets. Then to the bed’s heavy, wooden posts. Familiar posts. “I’m…not in pain.”

“Were you having a nightmare?”

No, she didn’t think that she had been. Bits and pieces of the dream still remained.

“You look flushed. Should I call Dr. Marshall?”

Of course, he knew the name of her OB-GYN. She wasn’t even going to ask how.

Whitney could feel the heat in her cheeks, but she wasn’t flushed because anything was wrong. She was blushing because she was pretty sure she’d been having a sex dream. Or, rather, a sex memory. “Bits and pieces come to me sometimes.” She was still staring at the wooden post on the right. “Familiar places or things can spark them. It can be a sensory experience. Like feeling silk against my skin…” She was fisting the silk of the sheets.

I’ve done that before. Just like I’ve been in this bed, with him, before.

“Whitney, are you telling me that you remembered something?”

She drew in a bracing breath before forcing her stare back to him. “Bits and pieces. They vanish quickly when I wake. That’s what happened last night. And what’s happening now.” Except this time, a few of the memories were lingering in a more tangible way. “I’ve been in this room with you before.”

A nod.

“It’s…your bedroom.”

“Yes.”

Her breath rushed out. “So you got me in your bed. You could have said something. Pointed me to another room.”

“Yes, I could have. I didn’t.” No apology. “Have you stopped to wonder how you knew to come to this room? Because I watched you. You walked straight to it as if you’d done it dozens of times.” A small hesitation. “Which, by the way, you have.”

It had been automatic. She’d been tired and wanted a safe place to crash. Her feet had carried her to his bedroom. She hadn’t even bothered looking too closely at the furniture or her surroundings. She’d pretty much collapsed in bed. Now her gaze did track around, and she realized there weren’t any personal touches in the room. The dresser top was empty. The heavy, cherry wood chest had all of its drawers shut. A lamp and a small clock were the only things on the nearby nightstand.

He followed her gaze. “Feel like something else should be there?”

She actually did. The certainty that something was missing nagged at her.

He reached over for the nightstand. Opened the top drawer. Pulled out a framed photograph. He stared at the photo, then turned the frame toward her.

Me and Ramsey. In the photo, he had his arms wrapped around her shoulders as they stood on the beach. His eyes seemed to gleam and the smile on her own face stretched from ear to ear.

“A tourist took the photo for us one day. He wandered up the beach where we were walking, and you stopped him. I don’t normally do pictures. Not at all. But this one time, with you, I wanted that memory.”

We look so happy.

“Maybe this will make you feel better.” He put the frame near the lamp. “You can see that once upon a time, you obviously trusted me.”

Anger flashed inside of her. “You should have come to me. Told me sooner—”

“I have lots of regrets in this world. I learned long ago that I can’t change what I’ve done. So I just try to alter my course going forward.” He swallowed. “Consider my course altered.” His nostrils flared. “Do you need anything?”

Answers. But she realized that him just telling her about their past wasn’t the same as having the memories awaken in her mind.

“Okay, then, I’ll let you get back to sleep.” He shoved from the bed as if he’d been burned. “Too hard being this fucking close to you,” he muttered.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why did you have the photo in the drawer?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Can’t you figure that out?”

“If you wanted me out of your life, why not just throw it away?”

“Never said I wanted you out.” He marched for the door.

“Ram.”

He stopped. “The photo was in the drawer because seeing it every day when I woke up hurt. I didn’t have you any longer, and it gutted me.”

Was that the truth?

“But I couldn’t throw the photo away because I needed to see your face at night. You were the last thing I wanted to see. So I kept the photo in the drawer where it could be close to me.” A shake of his head. “You think I don’t get how screwed up I am when it comes to you? I do. Yet another reason why you were better off without me.” He curled his fingers around the doorknob.

“I was the one to seduce you.”

His body jerked.

“You said no. So I stripped. Told you that I knew what I was doing. That it was my choice.” The bits and pieces seemed to grow stronger in her mind. “You carried me in here. This…” The bed she was in… “We had sex here for the first time.”

“Doesn’t sound like a question.”

It wasn’t. Whitney knew everything she said was the truth.

“Looks like some memories are definitely coming back.” He threw another glance over his shoulder. “Wonder what caused the change?”

She knew exactly what had caused it.

You did.

“And…follow-up question, just what will you remember next?”

***

Ramsey slipped into the hallway and quietly closed the door behind him. Then he released a long breath.

Fuck.

He’d heard her moaning and hadn’t realized those sounds were because she’d been having a sex dream—sex memory, whatever—and he’d gone rushing in there because he’d thought that something might be wrong.

When he’d found out the truth…

All he’d wanted was to climb into that bed with her. To have her over and over again. To feel her nails raking down his back as his cock shoved into the hot heaven that he craved so much. Her sweet smell had wrapped around him. Her gorgeous eyes had stolen his soul. And his eager cock had immediately gotten hard and ready.

He glared down at his body. “Yeah, we’re trying to woo her, not scare the hell out of her.”

Like his dick knew anything about wooing. He just knew about fucking. And he knew he loved fucking Whitney.

Ramsey stalked away from the door. Headed back into the den and back to the laptop he’d been searching moments before. Yes, he knew going through her laptop was a total invasion of privacy. So what? He was used to doing shit like that. When it came to Whitney, he was going to have to play dirty.

He’d managed to access some sort of journal or diary. She’d probably call it one of her scientific logs, but the info in it hardly all seemed scientific. Maybe she’d started with that intention when she’d first visited his bar, but things had changed.

They’d gotten personal.

Unfortunately, it seemed that most of the data was corrupted. He kept seeing lots of ones and zeroes interrupting her entries and that wasn’t helping him much.

Fortunately, there was a tech guy who owed him some favors. A guy he’d already contacted previously because he’d wanted help with that prick Rudy and his freelance boss. But now, it seemed his tech buddy was about to get a second job.

Ramsey hauled out his phone and dialed as he opened up the laptop with his left hand.

“Why in the hell are you bothering me?” A growling demand.

“Hello to you, too, asshole.”

“Ramsey.”

He almost smiled. “Cyrus.”

“We aren’t supposed to be communicating. You know this. I told you this shit last time. I don’t want any links between us to be found.”

“Good for you, but I have another problem, and you owe me so…”

“Are you shitting me right now? Since when did I become your problem solver?”

Ramsey ignored the question. “I have a corrupted laptop. You retrieve all the data on it for me, and I’ll call us even.”

“What you need to be doing is calling your local tech repair company. Jeez, man, are you seriously hitting me up for a technical issue? Do you know the kind of jobs that I usually handle—”

“Of course, I know. We’ve worked together enough that I know.” More secrets. Ramsey had so many of them.

“And yet you are calling me in the middle of the night to handle your tech shit?”

“Yes.” He was getting annoyed. “Because the ‘tech shit’ on this laptop is of extreme importance. No one else can see it, understand? You share not a word about what you discover with anyone.”

Silence. “Okay. Now I am vaguely curious…”

Curiosity was Cyrus’s main weakness. “How wonderful for you. Arrange a pick-up at my bar tomorrow at nine in the morning. You retrieve the data, and I’ll consider us done.”

“And if I can’t retrieve it? Because I’m not a miracle worker, you know.”

“Then you’ll still owe me. The next time I call in my debt, I won’t be nearly as friendly.”

“You are never friendly.”

“Good of you to notice.” No, he wasn’t the friendly one. That was his brother Jinx. Ramsey was more the one who did the dirty work so that everyone else could continue living their happy lives.

Someone had to handle all the blood and pain. Some days, it felt as if Ramsey had been made for that job. “And I need that information on Rudy’s boss ASAP. You told me you could find this shit.”

“I can. And, actually, I already did, but you’re not going to like what I discovered.”

“What in the hell does that mean?”

“It means don’t shoot the messenger, okay? It means take a breath when I tell you what I discovered and remember that I am a semi-friend to you.”

“You think we’re friends?”

“No, I really don’t. The words felt weird when they came out.”

Ramsey grunted. “Tell me the bastard’s name.”

“Well, now, I don’t exactly have that.”

His hold tightened on the phone. “So much for being the friggin’ best.”

“I am the friggin’ best. The guy never used a real name. He tried to hide his location, too, but I tracked him down because I am awesome.”

The man’s ego was annoying.

“And when I figured out the location, I kinda thought you were testing me. Aren’t we supposed to be past the testing point in our relationship?”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

A sigh. “I’m talking about the fact that I traced those messages back to an IP address…used a basic IP geolocation lookup to do the deed. When I realized he’d been sending his messages for those flower deliveries from your bar, I thought you must be jerking me around—”

“Back up,” Ramsey rasped.

“To which part?” Cyrus wanted to know.

“The prick sent the orders from my bar?”

“Can’t exactly say if he was in your place or outside your place, but yeah, he was there in the general area. So, I take it by your tone that this was not a test of my skills?”

“I want his name.”

“Well, look, I can’t give it to you…yet. I’ll keep digging. Meanwhile, though, I just let you know the mystery guy is someone who frequents your bar. Can’t you do your usual routine of scaring the hell out of everyone near you and figure out who the jerk is?”

Yes, he absolutely could do that usual routine. And he planned to do it…immediately.