Suspicions. Cynthia Eden

man forget a night of death? It was impossible, as impossible as forgetting a woman like Ava.

      She’d grown up before his eyes. That terrible night had destroyed the last of her childhood. At first she’d been so brittle, so very breakable. He’d wanted to pummel anyone who looked at her too hard, and there had been plenty of accusatory stares. Sure, he’d heard the rumors.

      Some folks thought it was suspicious that Ava had escaped from the killers without even a scratch while her parents had died.

      He paced toward the window on the right. Suspicious? No, there was nothing suspicious about her survival. She’d been lucky. He had no doubt that if the killers had seen her, Ava would have died, too.

      Years had passed since that night. Bubbly, happy Ava had vanished. She’d become controlled, withdrawn and beautiful as she finished her college years. She’d gone to grad school, and she’d kept away from Austin.

       But she’s back now.

      Back with him. In his home, but not in his bed. Though for the past two years, he’d sure imagined her there plenty. Ever since the night he’d tasted Ava for the first time. It had been a kiss that shouldn’t have happened. A kiss that had changed everything for him.

      His eyes squeezed closed. It was really going to be a long night.

      * * *

      AVA WAS IN the stables, stroking Lady’s mane. She was humming a bit as she groomed her horse. Working kept her mind off the fact that she and her boyfriend Alan had broken up just hours before the homecoming dance. Because he was a serious jerk with delusions. And now she was there, alone with her horse, while all of her friends were out at the party.

      Ava stopped humming. There would be other dances. And plenty of other guys—guys who weren’t creeps and who—

      Thunder cracked through the night. At the sound, Ava’s whole body jerked. There wasn’t supposed to be a storm that night. As the sharp crack died away, goose bumps rose on Ava’s arms.

       Was that thunder?

      She whirled from the horse, ran from the stable. That loud blast still seemed to echo in her ears. As she ran, she looked up at the star-filled sky. There was no sign of clouds or lightning. Nothing at all.

      Fear thickened in her veins. Something is wrong. I don’t think that was thunder. She rushed toward the ranch house. All of the lights were blazing inside. She could see her dad standing a few feet in front of the picture window.

      Only he wasn’t alone.

      Ava staggered to a stop. The lights were so bright in that house, and she could easily see the men with her father. Two men wearing black ski masks were pointing guns at her father.

       Where’s Mom? Where’s Mom?

      She inched closer, and when she saw her mother lying on the floor, a pool of blood gathering near her body, a sob tore from Ava. In that instant, her father whirled toward the window. His gaze locked with hers.

       Dad!

      “Run.” He mouthed that one word at her.

      Ava shook her head, too terrified to move.

      But then her father whirled around to face the men in masks. He shouted something at them, words that drifted through the open window.

       “I’ll never tell you. No matter what you do. I’ll never tell.”

      Boom! That time, she knew the sound wasn’t thunder. She saw her father’s body jerk. Ava watched in horror as he fell, and she was screaming, screaming—

      “Wake up, Ava.” Warm, strong hands wrapped around her shoulders and shook her once, gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

      Her eyes flew open. She saw that the lights were all on—and so bright—in that guest room. Mark was on the bed with her, his body curled protectively over hers.

      “It’s just a dream,” he told her, his deep voice rumbling. “Dreams can’t hurt you.”

      No, it was the men in black ski masks who did that. Those were the men who appeared and wrecked your world.

      Ever since that stalker had started playing games with her life a month ago, she’d been having the dreams—every single night. Before that, she’d been doing so much better. She’d even been able to go a few months without the nightmares.

      But since the first time she’d noticed her pictures rearranged...it was as if the past had come rushing back to her.

      His thumbs traced little soothing circles on her arms. “I didn’t know you still—”

      “Still woke up screaming.” Her voice sounded raspy. How long had she been screaming before he’d rushed in? “That’s why I could never have a roommate in college.” Why she’d gotten the little rental house close to the campus. Her brothers had put in a security system there to keep her safe...and she’d really thought everything would be fine.

       But someone still got in.

      “The stalker, he brought it all back.” She sat up in bed, but Mark didn’t let her go. “I was getting better.”

      He didn’t speak. His hands were so warm around her.

      He’d come to her before, comforting her in the middle of the night. But she’d been a scared sixteen-year-old then.

      She was still scared, but she wasn’t sixteen.

      And Mark...he wasn’t leaving. Instead, he was watching her with an intense, turbulent gaze. She wished she could read his mind right then.

      Wished—

      His gaze fell to her body. She was wearing her bra and panties—she’d ditched everything else before she climbed into bed. Since his room was on the other side of the house, she’d hoped that he wouldn’t hear her cries when the nightmare came.

      He had.

      His hands tightened on her. She could feel the calluses along the edge of his fingertips. Mark wasn’t just some figurehead at the Montgomery ranch. He worked day in and day out. She knew he was the lifeblood of that place.

      She also knew that she should feel embarrassed to be with him this way. She should probably reach out and pull up the covers. She didn’t.

      “Do you remember,” Ava asked him, “when we kissed?”

      Maybe he didn’t remember. He’d been drinking that night. She had, too, or else she probably would never have gotten up the courage to kiss him. She’d just finished her undergraduate degree, and she’d been celebrating the holidays with her brothers—and with Mark. She and Mark had been alone for just a moment. The mistletoe had been right above them. She’d stood up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

      Then something had happened. He’d taken over that kiss. It hadn’t been quick. It had been deep and hot.

      “I wish I could forget.”

      His words hurt, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “I—”

      “Because if I could forget, then I wouldn’t spend so much time wanting to taste you again.” His right hand rose and sank into her hair, tipping back her head. “Like this...”

      His lips pressed to hers softly at first, carefully.

      But she didn’t want careful. Not from him. Everyone else in her life treated her as if she’d break apart at any moment. Not Mark, too.

      Her hands curled around his shoulders. Her mouth opened beneath his, and her tongue slid out to caress his lower lip.

      His body stiffened, and she heard him groan. She loved that sound. Loved it even more when he stopped being so careful. She could feel his passion taking control. One minute he was