Remembering Us by Stacey Lynn Page B

them proud of me. But hearing it from him, in his voice that is dripping with desire, makes me feel angry again.
    How dare this man that I don’t know, know every single thing about me.
    “What scares you is that you’re remembering that you’re different now. You just don’t know how you got here.” I look away, but I can feel his eyes on me. All I see is the dust under the fridge and the dried blood on his damaged hand. He’s dangerous in more ways than one.
    “You don’t know anything,” I choke out over a grapefruit sized lump in my throat.
    “You’re wrong, Amy.” God his voice sounds smooth like butter and as decadent as chocolate. I close my eyes, trying to fight against what my body is feeling. “I know everything. I know every fear you have. I know how strong you were the day you told your parents you didn’t want to work at your dad’s firm. I know what your skin feels like when you move beneath me and the sounds you make right before you come.”
    “Stop it,” I whisper, my eyes still closed. He’s pressing too hard – not with his body – but with his words and the confidence in them.
    “What do you want to know, Ames? I’ll tell you anything. First kiss? It was in my room at the frat. First date? We went rock climbing. That first time I saw you in Statistics? I left and had a hard-on for two weeks. God, I was so excited to see you on that first day of class. I had dreamed of you all summer. And the first time we had sex? I took you to a suite at the Lux, the very same night of that formal, by the way. I couldn’t keep my hands off you and I took you against the wall.”
    He pauses and I think I might die of a heart attack. The things he’s saying are revolting. Dark. Intoxicating. He puts one hand up next to my head on the wall. His other hand leaves my shoulder and falls to my waist.
    “It was a lot like this,” he says, and slightly squeezes his hand at my hip. Why am I not pushing him away? Why do I like the way he touches me despite how much he scares me?
    “What do you want from me?” Slowly, I open my eyes and stare up at him. I can see the fight in them; fighting for control, despite wanting to lose it.
    “I want you to feel,” he whispers against my ear. It sends my skin dancing. I want to roll my shoulders to erase the feeling, but I can’t move, so I stand there and take it, holding my breath at the strong sensation. “Stop trying so hard to remember. Stop thinking and just feel. Feel me, Amy. It’s what we’ve always done best.”
    His head lowers slowly. Never once does he break eye contact from me, and he doesn’t wait for my permission as his lips slide across mine. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips and mine at the same time. When he presses his mouth to mine, sliding his tongue in before I can resist, I just … take it. Because ohmigod it’s heaven. As soon as his mouth hits mine and his tongue slides inside, I feel like something inside me is re-connecting, even though I still don’t know what’s been broken in the first place.
    It’s passion and love and I can feel it. The kiss is soft but powerful. His tongue knows exactly where to go as our mouths move against the other; he knows exactly what I like and how I like it, even though I’ve never experienced it. I’ve kissed guys before. I’ve even had excellent kisses that make my stomach flip-flop and leave me wanting more. I’ve had sweet kisses that make me lean into the man, wrap my hands around a guy’s neck, and my foot pop off the ground like in classic romance films.
    But this, this is in a whole new realm of kisses.
    “God, Amy.” He pulls away, panting for breath, and rests his forehead on mine. “I just … fuck … I just need you.”
    I catch another glimpse of his bandaged hand right next to my face, remembering the thump of the wall as he cracked a hole in the drywall and take a deep breath, collecting myself.
    “I can’t.”
    I duck out from under his arm and walk past him, not