Walking The Edge: A Romantic Suspense/Espionage Thriller (Corpus Brides Trilogy Book 1) by Zee Monodee Page A

breath but remained silent, looking away from him.
    “Please, if you could just explain—”
    “I have amnesia,” she started, sounding cautious. “I woke up in a hospital with this man beside my bed who said he was my husband.”
    “What would he stand to gain by lying?”
    “I don’t know, but that’s not the point. Whatever there was between us, it’s over. I’ve left him, to come here to see you.”
    “Why me?”
    “Because I remember you.”
    He frowned. “You just said you have amnesia.”
    She lowered her head, staring into her lap. “I saw you in a dream.”
    “Okay...” Everything just got weirder and weirder with her involved. Whatever was wrong with her must be seriously warped.
    Her head came up and the vehemence and purpose now blazing in her eyes startled him.
    “I know it was a memory,” she stated, conviction heavy in her tone. “I saw you in it so clearly. We were together, talking. Your voice sounded just the same, and I know I couldn’t have imagined it all.”
    “Hence you saying at the bistro that we were lovers.” Some things had started to click, but merde if they still didn’t make any sense.
    “I came to you,” she paused, “so you’d help me by telling me who I am.”
    Silence stretched between them. Putain , but she put him in an awfully tricky situation. He didn’t know her. How to tell her this, when she had put so much expectation and faith into him lifting the veil for her? Everything in their situation felt too twisted to be a ploy, and some of his suspicions allayed. She sounded too sincere to be masquerading.
    So, a coincidence that she came to him on the same day someone made an attempt on his life?
    He stood so she wouldn’t witness the turmoil inside him. She huddled even more into herself, pulling the soft afghan over her as if it would ward off any bad tidings she expected would come her way.
    He didn’t want to crash her hopes, but he couldn’t do anything more than go with the truth.
    Gerard returned to the bed, where he sat facing her. Taking her cold hands in his, he rubbed his thumbs across her knuckles. After a deep breath, he looked up into her eyes.
    “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know you.”
    Her lips quivered. She pulled her hands from his and placed her palms on his cheeks. “Don’t say that.”
    “It’s the truth, and I’m sorr—”
    “Stop.”
    She sat up on her knees and pressed her forehead to his. The throw dropped from her shoulders, revealing her nakedness, laying her bare to his gaze. Her breaths came out ragged, her voice strangled as she repeated over and over that he shouldn’t say those words.
    Right then, he hated himself for the anguish and the misery he caused her, even more so when moisture trickled from her cheeks onto his. Somehow, he knew she didn’t cry easily—she’d struck him as strong and resilient at the bistro. The waterworks thus meant serious shit, for him.
    He clutched her shoulders. “Don’t.”
    He shouldn’t do this to her...
    With his mouth barely an inch away from hers, and, if only to quell the dreadful sounds of her sobs, he kissed her.
    *
    She let go and melted into him when his lips touched hers, and she sighed against his mouth. The kiss felt different from the ones they’d exchanged previously. Passion laced the contact, but not the raw and primal kind that had taken over them earlier. This kiss carried the desperate echo of need and unspoken longing.
    She released his face to clutch his shirt. When his warm palms settled on the naked skin of her back, she moaned, revelling in the emotions he brought up inside her. This feels so much like coming home . His caresses grew feverish and frantic, making her think he grew afraid she’d leave his arms if he released her.
    She couldn’t even if she wanted to. His touch scorched the cold out of her and made liquid fire burn in her veins. She needed him, craved him as much as he seemed to want her. She tore at his shirt, breaking