The next morning

April

It's funny how you can always tell when you're not alone. Even before I opened my eyes, I knew. It's not like I could hear the sound of someone's breathing--early morning birdsong and the persistent buzz of a lawn mower drifting in through the open windows took care of that. The bed didn't so much as jiggle and certainly there was no one touching me. But, all the same, I knew. I wasn't alone. There was someone in the bed with me. But who?

Cautiously, I opened my eyes. As an unfamiliar wall flickered into focus I stifled a gasp. Omigod, where in the hell am I? Heart pounding, I tried not to panic. Maybe I was dreaming? I closed my eyes, counted to three, and then tried opening them again. The view remained the same: a row of paperbacks, cheap shelving, a stack of CDs, part of a sliding glass door. A random and unremarkable collection of furnishings met my gaze, nothing I could recall having seen before. Even the bed felt unfamiliar, now that I stopped to consider it. And my memories of the previous night? Completely non-existent.

I took a moment to assess the situation. I was naked in a strange bed, under a navy blue sheet whose depressingly low thread count begged the question, what was I thinking?

A fabulous question that, by the way. One I wished I'd had the sense to ask myself the night before.

I mean, it was obvious I'd picked someone up. Or, considering my location, I'd been picked up. What wasn't so obvious was why. Because, despite the subtle pulsing in my sex, the slick, swollen softness that let me know that, wherever this was, I'd clearly had a real good time getting here, instinct told me this was not my usual milieu.

I lay still a little while longer as I contemplated what my next move should be. Could I slide out of bed without alerting Mr. Right Now to the fact that I was leaving? Much as my body would have liked an encore, my mind recoiled at the awkwardness that was sure to ensue. If I could find my clothes, if I could dress quickly and quietly enough, I could be gone before he even knew I was awake, saving us both from certain embarrassment.

It was a plan, and a good one, but before I could put it into action, the mattress creaked and a heavy, warm weight settled against my back. "M-m-m-morning." An indecently sexy voice rumbled in my ear. An indisputably male arm ensnared my waist. An unmistakably hard cock prodded my ass.

Well, shit. So much for graceful exits.

Biting my lip, I turned to face my unknown bedmate. I'd be lying if I said I didn't fear the worst. But one look at his face and, suddenly, things were making a lot more sense. I mean, if you're gonna screw up and go home with a total stranger, you could do worse than to pick one who looks like a Greek god.

Or who would if Greek gods were blond. I'm guessing they're not, no matter how many times they cast Brad Pitt in the role.

"Uh ... hi," I murmured, feeling breathless as I stared into an absolutely gorgeous set of smoldering, sea green eyes. How in the world could I ask his name, or any of the other dozen questions which were begging for answers, without betraying the fact that I couldn't remember the first thing about him, about the night we'd just spent together, about ... a lot of things, actually.

"C'mere," he murmured as he drew me close. The throbbing heat deep in my belly did a good job of distracting me from the vague uneasiness nagging at me from the back of my mind.

There was too much here that I didn't understand, too much I couldn't remember, but it was easy to forget about that with his fingers splayed across my bare back. As his hands slid lower, fingers teasing the seam of my ass, I couldn't help but shiver at the touch. Even so, when he lowered his lips to mine, I shoved at his chest, pushing him away.

"Wait," I gasped, unable to shake the feeling that we were moving too fast. Sure he looked good and felt good, but come on, if you'd found yourself naked with a man you'd just that instant laid eyes on, for what felt like the very first time, what would you do?

He cocked his head to the side and regarded me curiously. "You're kidding. What do I gotta wait for now?"

Good question. "I uh ... well, what were you waiting for before?" I bluffed, hoping to sound less clueless than I felt.

That's when he hit me with his smile. One of those too-good-to-be-true, sinfully sweet charmers, it left me stupefied. "You." He planted a soft kiss on the tip of my nose. "I tried waking you hours ago but you sleep like the dead."

"Sorry about that," I mumbled, feeling even more breathless than before.

He chuckled. "Well, you should be sorry. 'Cause you fell out last night just as we were getting to the good stuff."

"The good stuff, huh?" As far as my body was concerned, I'd already had the good stuff. "But didn't we already, uh...?"

His smile turned wicked. "Well, sure. But that was just the warm-up."

"Oh."

This time, when he leaned in for a kiss, I was too distracted to stop him. And, like everything else this morning, that, too, was a surprise. A soft, sweet, open-mouthed kiss. Not wet. Not sloppy. Just perfect. A kiss that, for all its gentleness, breathed passion. The kind of kiss that makes you hot, that makes you never want to stop, that makes you long to give him everything you've got. I'd heard the term soul kiss before, but up until now, it was only words. This kiss gave it meaning.

I was trembling as I clutched at his shoulders. My breasts tingled, my clit ached, I felt reckless, wild with desire. He pulled back, just far enough so that his tongue could trace over my lips and the teasing touches drove me over the edge.

I pushed at his shoulders until I'd rolled him onto his back, then I straddled his waist. He gazed at me, questioningly. I could feel the long, hard length of his cock as it pressed against my pussy. I wanted it inside me.

"Condom?" I gasped, hoping it wasn't the first time either of us had thought of it.

He nodded toward the nightstand. "Drawer."

As I leaned across him, he propped himself up on his elbows and caught one nipple in his mouth. A shudder ran through me. It took several attempts before I could open the drawer, several seconds of fumbling before my hand closed on the foil packet.

My mission accomplished, I started to pull back. But, I couldn't bring myself to break away so soon from his mouth's sweet suction, so I curled into his heat. He fell back into the bedding, groaning as I lavished kisses across his shoulder. I could barely repress the urge to leave love-bites all along his neck.

His hands roved over my back, causing me to groan, "That feels so good."

"You feel good," he corrected as his hands tightened on my waist. He slid me lower, taking my mouth again in another mind-melting kiss. Heat spread thick and fast, leaving me breathless once again.

He tried to roll with me in his arms, but I had other ideas.

"No." Breaking away from his embrace, I slid down to straddle his legs. When my fingers had trouble with the condom, I used my teeth to tear open the package.

His eyes widened. "Tell me you're gonna put that on me with your mouth and I'll be your slave forever."

My slave? "I, uh, umm, maybe later," I stammered in surprise, then silently cursed myself for my stupidity. Later? How likely was that? Embarrassed, I dropped my gaze from his face.

He had a fabulous body, I realized--really noticing it for the first time--with broad shoulders, narrow hips and lean, toned muscles; the kind of body swimmers have. Shit. I just knew he was a surfer. He had to be, didn't he? It would explain so much, from his tan and his sun-streaked curls to this unimpressive room. And how the fuck had I hooked up with one of those? Never mind why ... although I was beginning to have a pretty good idea about that part.

I would have liked to confirm my suspicions, but asking was out of the question. For all I knew, we'd discussed the subject at length, the night before.

"Something wrong?" he asked, when the silence became a little too lengthy.

I shook my head. "No," I lied, smiling brightly. "Not at all." At some point, I really would have to piece together last night's events and figure out how in the hell I ended up here. But, in the meantime ... I was in this deep, there was no way I could back out now. So, why not make the best of things?

I finished unwrapping the condom, hurrying now because the feeling that my being here was an accident, a mistake, all wrong, was stronger than ever. A pearly drop of pre-cum glistened on the head of his cock. I leaned in and swiped it with my tongue, reveling in his velvet skin and musky taste. On an impulse, I swirled my tongue around the plump head as well, smiling as he growled his approval.

I knew he wouldn't object if I continued, and in another time and place, I definitely would have lingered; gliding my mouth over his thick shaft, testing to see how much I could take; and then teasing his sac with my lips and teeth. But I was on a mission now. The nagging voice in the back of my head was getting louder and harder to ignore. All I wanted to do was to get off and get out--as quickly as possible.

Pulling back, I made quick work of the condom and then climbed on board. I'd taken hold of his cock, to ease him inside, when he stopped me.

"C'mere a minute," he murmured.

"Hmm?" I glanced up at his face, surprised to realize he was frowning.

He crooked his finger at me. "I said, come here."

Sighing impatiently, I released his cock and slid forward, lowering my mouth to within inches of his. "What is it?"

He palmed my breasts as I leaned in close, strong fingers kneading aching flesh, making me shudder. "Relax," he breathed against my lips. "You're too tense. This isn't a race, you know."

"I'm not tense," I insisted, even though I was. I was tense and uncertain, desperate for distraction, anxious and impatient--until he kissed me. Then I melted against him, my worries forgotten, at least for the moment. I kissed him back feverishly, wanting to devour him whole, my mouth and pussy both hungering to be filled.

His arms slid around me, pulling me close, holding me tight. I could feel the tip of his cock as it nudged against my anus, and I shivered uncontrollably. No. Not there. Not like that.

Breaking away, I reached between my legs and grabbed his cock again. A tortured groan rumbled from his throat as I rubbed the head along my slit, lubricating it with my juices, and then slowly, slowly lowering myself on top of him.

He groaned louder. "Damn. That feels ... so ... good."

"Unnh," I moaned in answer, unable to form the words to show that I agreed, hoping he'd understand all the same.

Up and down along his shaft I moved, loving the hot slide of his cock inside me; unable to stop. His hands clutched convulsively at my hips. I could feel his cock swelling and I knew it wouldn't be long before he came. I was getting close myself, but not that close. And still, I couldn't stop. So desperate was my need, I couldn't even force myself to slow down. Anticipating my disappointment, I moaned again in frustration.

Suddenly, he slipped his hand between us, his fingers searching out my clit. "Oh, yes," I sighed as he stroked and tugged. "There. Right there. Right--Ah!" I gasped in surprise, losing my rhythm when his fingers began to thrum my sensitive flesh with quick, light taps that were not quite stinging, not quite painful; harder than before.

"Keep going," he ordered. "Don't stop."

My pussy clenched and I gulped for breath, my entire body flushing with heat, because even though he ground the words out through gritted teeth, there was no mistaking the tone. It was an order, one that made my heart race and my pussy drip.

Not that I needed any urging. I was already moving again, faster, harder, writhing against his hand, seeking release from the pressure building up inside.

"Now," I groaned as the first spasm shook me and all my muscles seized. "Omigod!"

"Yes." His hands were on my hips again, his fingers tightening on my flesh as he took over the ride, thrusting hard, fast, deep. Hitting all the right spots again and again. Burying every inch of his cock inside me. And then stiffening, his body arching beneath me as he came.

He pulled me down against him once again. I lay with my head on his chest, listening to the thundering of his heart, while his hands stroked slowly over my back and we both struggled for breath. But, even then, even that soon afterwards, I could feel the anxiety rising within me.

Are you cold?" he asked as he reached for the sheet.

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. Really." Kissing him lightly on the lips, I slid out of bed. I was shivering all right, but not from cold. Reaction was setting in, and all I wanted was to get out of here, to get away, to go home.

Frowning, he propped himself up on his elbow. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"I have to go," I said, grabbing my clothes from the floor.

"Now?"

"I uh, yes. I have things to do." I couldn't find my underwear, and didn't feel like searching for it. So, he'd have a souvenir of our time together. I could live with that.

"Just like that, huh?" Sounding vaguely disgruntled, he removed the used condom and tossed it into the waste basket. "Well ... shit, at least give me your phone number, all right? So I can call you sometime?"

"Okay." My phone number. Sure. No problem with that, was there? I slid my feet into my shoes. "Or, you know what? Why don't you just give me yours, instead?"

His frown deepened. "Look, Angel, did I miss something in the last couple of minutes? Is anything wrong?"

I shook my head. "No." Nothing was wrong, nothing at all. Why should I remember my own phone number, anyway? It was early in the day, I'd just gotten up, my head ached and, besides, it's not like I made a habit of calling myself, right? "What could be wrong?"

"How would I know? But, it's obvious something's bothering you."

"Don't be silly. Of course there's nothing bothering me. I'm fine." I scanned the room impatiently. "Where's my purse?"

Reaching into the nightstand drawer, he extracted paper and pen. "You didn't bring one."

No purse? "Well, where's the rest of my stuff then?"

"What stuff is that?" he asked absently, scribbling away.

"You know, keys, money, a wallet?"

"I dunno. In your jacket maybe?" He gestured toward an armchair, just inside the door.

"My jacket. Right." As I lunged for the suede jacket draped over the back of the chair, he got out of bed and headed toward me; still naked and semi-erect. I tried not to stare.

"Here." He held out the slip of paper he'd been writing on.

I left off searching through my jacket pockets long enough to take it, smiling as I read what he'd written, not just his number, but his name and address, as well. Thank God! "Thanks, Zach. I'll call you." Probably I would, too, if only to explain why I wouldn't be seeing him again. I folded the paper and carefully stowed it in one of the pockets I'd already checked, then resumed my search.

"I thought we could at least have breakfast together," Zach complained, still sounding disgruntled. He stroked his hand down my arm. "C'mon, it's Saturday. Do you really have to rush off like this?"

I nodded. "I'm kind of in a hurry." Fingers trembling I checked inside the last pocket, it was as empty as the rest. My knees were shaking so hard now, I couldn't stand. "There's nothing in here," I muttered as I sank down in the chair, trying to think, trying not to think. I had no money, no keys, no license, no ID. But, maybe there was nothing odd about that. Maybe I didn't need a license, or a key. Maybe I didn't have a car. Maybe I lived with people who would let me in. What terrified me was the fact that I couldn't remember.

Zach crouched in front of me and took hold of my hands. "Hey, relax. Don't panic, okay? Probably your cousin has your purse, right?"

"My cousin?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it figures, doesn't it? You came into the bar with him, right? So probably you gave him your stuff to hold onto. Or maybe you left it in his car, or something, and just forgot."

I clung to his hands and his words and tried not to cry. "Okay. That makes sense, I guess."

"Sure it does." Rising, he crossed the room again and grabbed his phone. "Here. Why don't you give him a call and find out? It'll be cool. You'll see."

I shook my head. "I uh, I can't call. I don't remember his number."

"Oh." He returned the phone to its stand and then sighed. "Okay, well, still not a problem. I'll just get dressed and give you a ride over there. How's that sound?"

I wrapped my arms around myself and swallowed hard. It sounded great, except for one small detail. "I don't know where he lives."

"You don't?" His voice sounded skeptical, I didn't blame him. Surely, I should know where my own cousin lived, shouldn't I? He sighed. "Well, okay, scratch that plan, then. Where do you live? I'll just take you home and we can..."

"I don't know." My voice sounded so calm, so matter of fact, no one would ever guess that I was dying on the inside. But, something was wrong all right, and I'd just realized what. "I can't remember that either."

Zach gazed at me sternly. "Okay, very funny. Now, cut it out. I'm trying to help, you know."

"I know," I whispered hugging myself even tighter, feeling hollow and helpless and altogether wretched. "But I can't help it. And it's not funny at all. I don't remember anything." Including my name.