Special Ops Rendezvous. Karen Anders

Maybe.

      The blank place where his memory should be was a wall of darkness.

      A black freaking hole.

      He walked on shaky legs back to his bed and sat down. Sam eased in a steadying breath, reaching down deep inside himself for calm.

      He hovered on the edge of panic and he didn’t know why.

      He wanted to call Dr. Owens. He had even risen to go look for his cell when he stopped and...felt that panic inch a bit closer.

      “Damn!” he said into the quiet room. Maybe it was because his defenses were down or it was because he needed Dr. Owens, but tears pressed on the backs of his eyes. He wanted to rip out the heart of the person who had stolen Dr. Owens’s life. If he ever found out who that was...and if it was because of him...that was something he would regret for the rest of his life.

      The panic intensified and Sam thought he was going to jump out of his skin. Then deep brown eyes flashed in his memory. Then that caramel hair and that soft, kissable mouth. He took a deep breath and the panic receded a little bit more. Olivia’s curves. How she had felt against him, her shapely butt pressed against his groin, the warmth of her skin beneath his forearm. He took another breath and more of the panic retreated.

      He went into the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His pupils were dilated and he wasn’t sure if this was from the fear, the memory of Olivia or his nightmare.

      He turned on the shower and stripped off his shorts, soaked with sweat. The warm water felt amazing. As amazing as Olivia’s hands running over him, giving him relief from the pain. His skin was sensitive as he soaped up and rinsed himself off, the memory of his reaction to what he couldn’t remember being replaced by thoughts of Olivia, thoughts about her wet and soapy against him, her delectable mouth on his, his hands all over her.

      He got hard and lost in the fantasy, desperate to push his failure to find peace, to understand what had happened to him, and to make a damn difference away from him. Unable to help himself, he cupped his raging erection and leaned one hand against the wall as he imagined himself deep inside Olivia. He bit his bottom lip as the pleasure built, wondering, imagining how she would move, how she would feel, slick and warm. He came hard, grunting with the spiraling pleasure. Damn, that woman turned him on and she’d been what he needed to push back the darkness.

      Outside the shower, he toweled himself off, still vibrating from his powerful orgasm. He went to his dresser and pulled out another pair of army-green cotton shorts with Army Strong stitched into the hem.

      He walked out into the hall and then into the kitchen. He pulled a cold bottle of water out of the fridge and unscrewed the cap and downed the whole thing in a few gulps, then grabbed another one.

      “Sam?”

      He started and spilled water down his chest, grimacing and gasping as the cold liquid hit his hot skin.

      She blinked in the light from the kitchen, her expression apologetic. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

      “Olivia?” Her hair was tousled around her face with a half-lidded sleepy look that said she’d just rolled out of bed. The thought of her all warm and soft against him arrowed right into his groin. She looked luscious in his oversize shirt. It fit her like a dress. He liked that she wasn’t at all self-conscious around him.

      That heated fantasy came back to him and he reached for a towel, dragging his eyes away from her.

      “Are you all right?”

      “I’m sorry I woke you. Just a nightmare.” He wiped off his chest, displacing his dog tags as Olivia’s eyes followed his movement. Was she looking at him or what he was doing? His blood surged.

      “I thought I heard running water.”

      “I took a shower.”

      Her eyes traveled over him and he got his answer. She was looking at him. Definitely. In the past, he wouldn’t have hesitated in making time with a woman. But this was Dr. Owens’s sister and...well... He rubbed the back of his neck. Hadn’t he just jacked off thinking about her? He was an idiot and, on top of it, he was so messed up. All he could allow himself to do was think about it. But his mind went there anyway. He knew that reality would be much better than his fantasy.

      “Did it help?”

      He hid his smile. “Yes, it did.”

      He rolled his shoulder to try to alleviate the dull throbbing there.

      She came into the kitchen when she saw the expression of pain on his face. “Is your shoulder bothering you?”

      If he said yes, she would probably offer to help, and he couldn’t quite hold on to his resolve. His family was great as usual, but with all the turmoil in his professional and personal life, it was nice to think about a beautiful woman giving him some measure of comfort. The fact that it was Dr. Owens’s sister was ironic.

      “Yes, it’s 24/7, honey.”

      She gave him a wry look at the flippant endearment. “Come into the living room and I’ll work it for a bit.”

      Without giving him any time to answer, she took his wrist and pulled him into the living room. He’d met some forceful women in his life, and his mother was at the top of the list, but he’d had yet to meet one he’d let drag him around by the nose or his dick.

      But he was beginning to reassess that whole thing since not only was Olivia steal-his-breath beautiful, but her assertiveness was a turn-on.

      She sat down and with her hands on his hips, turned him so his back was to her. “Sit.”

      He chuckled as he complied. “Yes, ma’am.”

      She slipped one of those silky bare arms under his armpit and around his shoulder joint to hold him steady as she began to knead the muscles connecting to his shoulder.

      He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.

      “You can lean back if you want, Sam. I’m not a delicate flower.”

      She pulled him toward her and he sank into her, her chin just over the shoulder she was working, her breath warm against his skin. The wisp of her exhale sent a shiver of pleasure along his nerve endings. He was glad he took the edge off in the shower, because this was pure sensual torment.

      “Wow, you’re still a bit tight. Have you thought about seeing a chiropractor?”

      Reclining against her now, listening to her voice, which managed to be both soothing and no-nonsense, and breathing in her enticing scent, he could barely register what she was saying.

      “Sam?”

      “Huh.”

      “Chiropractor?”

      “Um, no. I hadn’t,” he said, sighing again as the pain lessened with the pressure of her warm, insistent hand. “How do you know all about this therapeutic massage?”

      “I was actually a massage therapist. In fact, I’ve had a number of jobs that have now come in quite handy as a P.I. A jack-of-all-trades makes it easy to fit into any kind of job you might need to carry out your client’s wish. I did once have certification but faked it this time to get the job. They might have discovered it eventually, but it was only a temporary situation. Or so I thought.”

      He dropped his head back against her shoulder and looked up at her, into eyes that easily held his own when challenged.... Yeah, he was finding his rationale a little harder to hang on to.

      His body was finding it even more difficult. He had to chalk that up to being a man, one who didn’t hesitate to take what he wanted most of the time. Her hair smelled good and he breathed deeply of her scent, the strands tickling his cheeks.

      “You need to do it.”

      Those words immediately evoked the image of him on top of her doing it. “Huh?” he said, feeling drugged and sluggish with the intoxication of her.

      She