Forget Me Not Read Free Page A

and I shifted up and down until I thought I would explode from the pleasure.
    His hoarse cries drowned out my own as he thrust up into me. I felt him throb deep within me as my pussy milked his length. He pulled me down onto him in a tight embrace and softly kissed under my ear and down my neck. Goose flesh rushed down my body.
    I could have lain there forever, but the rumble in my stomach reminded me I hadn't finished dinner last night and, if I didn't get up soon, I'd miss breakfast as well. Rolling off him, I lay next to him and studied his face.
    When we made love, he felt so familiar.
    “Who are you?” I finally asked.
    His eyes clouded a bit with emotion. “So you still don't remember anything?”
    I shook my head.
    “You're not going to believe me, but my name is Aaron Davies. I'm your husband.”
    I recoiled from him as if he were a snake about to bite. “No!” I shouted. “Aaron is dead. If this is some sort of sick joke, I'm not laughing.”
    I looked up at the man's face. I didn't want to believe my ears, but there had been a ring of truth in his voice. And there was the evidence of my body. In the seven years I'd spent with Aaron, I'd never reached orgasm with him. Never. And I recognised the voice from my dream. Had it really been a memory after all these years of blankness?
    “It's no joke, Letitia.”
    He kept talking, but I didn't hear another word he said.
    “Leave, just leave,” I finally screamed. Then I dropped my voice to what I hoped was a menacing growl. “If you don't leave, I will call the police.”
    He lifted his arms as if surrendering. I couldn't even look at his face. I just wanted him gone. Now.
    To my relief, he stood up, found his clothes and dressed. The silence in the room was almost a physical presence. At one point, he opened his mouth to speak, but I quelled him with a glare.
    After he left, I showered, got dressed and put on makeup. There was a small cardboard box sitting just outside. I shoved it into the cabin with my foot then shut and locked the door. Although I was curious, my mind simply could not absorb any more information until I'd fed my body.
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    Chapter Two
    It was a short walk through the grapevines to the dining room. I usually enjoyed it. Today, however, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I felt ill at ease, watched. I looked around but saw no one lurking nearby.
    Luckily the breakfast buffet was still laid out in the dining room. I took a plate and filled it with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and an English muffin.
    I thought back to the very first breakfast Aaron had served me, toast and orange juice. I hadn't even known how to pick up a glass to drink. He'd patiently taught me how to feed myself, walk, talk, and eventually how to make love.
    I shuddered and pushed my plate away. Why had the stranger claimed to be Aaron? What if he really was? Which left the most disturbing question of all—if the man I'd lived with wasn't Aaron Davies, my husband, who was he?
    To my dismay, someone took the seat across the table from me. I looked up and saw it was the woman with the bullet hole in her forehead.
    This time I spoke outright to her. I no longer gave a damn if my fellow diners thought I was nuts. Hell, I probably was.
    “Can I help you?”
    She nodded vigorously and then pointed to her forehead.
    “I can see you were shot. Do you know who killed you?”
    She nodded, and her smile faded, then she pointed at me.
    “I know who killed you?” I tried to return her smile. “Honey, I might have, but I don't have any memories from before September 2001. So if you want me to help you, you're going to need to give me more information than that.”
    A breeze blew a menu across the table. Numbers and letters were circled in what seemed like random patterns. Oh joy . Why in the hell couldn't the dead just come out and tell you what you needed to know?
    I started to ask her that self-same question, but she'd already