CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 

AFTER WRESTLING BOTH of the babies through feedings, baths, and bedtime with Clay’s help, I fell onto the sofa, utterly exhausted. Not long after, Clay flopped down beside me.

A moment passed where his hand brushed against the back of my neck and across my shoulder. I closed my eyes and tried to remind myself that whatever had been there before wasn’t there anymore. It was long cemented as a permanent mantra in my mind, but it didn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach or the way his touch scorched my skin. It was true, even if waking with his arms around me had become a regular occurrence, rather than a one-off. My nightmares were frequent and recurring, or so I was told each morning.

Despite how wonderful Clay had been about everything as much as his presence made each day that little bit easier, I was still reminded regularly that he wasn’t my Clay. Not because he didn’t have his memories but because I couldn’t hold him the way I wanted to. I couldn’t press my lips to his without worrying about what the long-term consequences might be.

It had been almost three weeks since we’d returned home, and it was becoming impossible to pretend that his presence didn’t affect me or that I didn’t long for my husband’s touch every second of the day. I wanted more than ever for the real Clay to return, even though I’d come to accept that he never would.

Sitting side by side with him on the sofa, I knew I couldn’t let our crushed and wobbly orbit continue any longer. Louise and Ethan had been right; it was starting to hurt too much.

“I think we need to talk about what happens next,” I said as the pang of regret over what we’d once had hit me again.

“What do you mean what happens next?” His voice was fearful and quiet as he gave me a look that I didn’t understand, something akin to regret or perhaps even longing.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend that nothing has changed. I’m not sure how much longer I can sleep beside you and act like it’s normal. Or wake in your arms and pretend I don’t care. We need to talk about the long term. About exit strategies.”

His gaze dropped away from me as he frowned.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Why does anything have to change?”

“You said before that you didn’t want me to get hurt out of this charade.”

He nodded.

“Well, it’s starting to . . .” I trailed off, not sure I could give a voice to the pain inside. One look in his eyes though, and I had to. “It’s starting to kill me. I’m worried that if it goes on for too much longer, I’ll be ruined. Especially now that everyone knows the truth and there’s no need for this façade.”

He gulped down a mouthful of air and his palm found the hair at his nape. “What if it’s not a façade?”

“What are you saying?” My stomach rested somewhere near my tonsils as I waited for him to answer.

“I—I don’t want to go.”

My hope soared even as I tried to repeat my well-worn mantra through my head.

“I can’t imagine being away from my children.”

Feeling my hope rush out of my body with the breath I released, I nodded. I’d suspected as much for a while, but could I continue the charade indefinitely for their sakes? Maybe it was time to investigate the second bed option again.

“Or you,” he continued.

I blinked back my surprise as the spark of hope in me ignited, twisting around my heart until it ached with the need for him to say the words that I could only dream of hearing again. I couldn’t speak for fear of shouting at him to tell me exactly what he meant, which would probably scare him off saying anything at all.

“I may not remember what things were like before,” he murmured, “but I know what they’re like now. And Evie, I know that I said I didn’t feel anything for you, but I do. There’s this thing that crawls through every part of my body and makes me long to touch you.” He reached for my hand and drew it to his lap, wrapping his fingers around it. “To kiss you.” He lifted my hand and pressed his lips softly to my knuckles. A knot twisted in my stomach. “To caress you.

“Even that first night we shared a bed, back in the court, it felt right. Like my body recognized you long before I did.” He leaned forward and began to whisper the rest of his words against my cheek. I closed my eyes as the butterflies began to flutter around the knot. “I was wrong when I said I didn’t feel it. I just didn’t recognize it then. It’s why I gravitate toward you every damn night when I sleep. I try to fight it because I know you don’t feel the same way about me, because you’re still in love with your husband, but I can’t help it. I’m drawn to you.”

A flood of hope rushed through me again at his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered the question, unwilling to break whatever spell was passing between us.

“How could I?”

The question confused me. How could he not? Did he not see I was holding myself aloof because I thought he didn’t want me?

He sat back, dropping away from me. “I’m not who you want me to be.”

I blinked in response to his words and the hunger in his eyes. “You’re all I want.” I said. “Please?” I begged, even though I didn’t know what I was asking for.

He tentatively raised his hand into my hair and threaded his fingers into the strands at my nape before he guided my lips toward his. The instant our mouths met, a shudder of pleasure rushed through me. I sighed against his mouth, and he took advantage of the space, his tongue pressing forward to meet mine.

For an instant, it was as though nothing had changed. For one precious moment, I could forget the last few months. Despite the length of time it had been since we’d last kissed, and despite Clay’s memory loss, our bodies recognized one another instantly. A rush of warmth raced through my body and settled heavily between my legs.

He shifted his position so that he was leaning over me, pouring every ounce of himself, of his emotions, into the kiss. His fingers worked at the buttons of my shirt slowly, as if waiting for me to stop him. Instead, I twisted my hands into his hair and pulled his face closer to me as a low moan escaped my lips. He pushed the thin material away from my chest and moved his mouth to caress my neck and shoulders.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked against my collarbone with a husky voice.

I shook my head. “I’m really not. You could shatter me, but I really don’t care. I’ve longed for your touch.”

We sunk deeper into the sofa as his hips ground against mine. A new hardness pressed against my pelvis, demonstrating that he was just as desperate for me as I was for him. I realized that he might have been using me—I could have been nothing more than an easy conquest for him—but I let my heart and body lead. They were the ones that would suffer the consequences if he was lying, but both were more than willing to take the risk.

God, I hope he’s not lying.

I helped him shed his shirt. When I saw the scars that crisscrossed his torso, I remembered the game we used to play. He’d probably never regain his memory, but I could help him build a picture of his old life.

My fingers traced along a series of three-inch long cuts near his left shoulder. His eyes dropped to watch my fingers trace the marks, confusion lining his features.

“Harpy,” I whispered. “You were fifteen.”

He placed his hand on mine to still my fingers before meeting my eyes. An instant later, to my surprise, he sighed and pulled away. He moved to sit on the other side of the sofa, leaving me bereft and confused.

“What is it?” I asked, desperate to drag him toward me and keep kissing him forever.

“I can’t do this,” he murmured. “I thought I could, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” I asked. It was clear he wanted me; I had felt the evidence of that in wonderfully delightful ways. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve grown to care about you, Evie. A ridiculous amount considering it’s only been a few weeks. But I can’t do this.”

“I need more than just ‘I can’t,’” I said through my choppy, desperate breaths.

“I can’t be with you while you’re still in love with another man.”

“But it’s you. I’m in love with you.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re in love with who I was. A man I can’t remember. He might as well be someone else for all I know about him.”

“But—”

“This is exactly why I couldn’t tell you how I felt.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “Ever since I realized how I feel about you, I’ve been waiting.”

“What for?” I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer, even though I needed it.

“For the moment when you look at me and don’t see him.” His hands moved from his hair to scrub the back of his neck. “How ridiculous do I sound? I’m jealous of myself for having already stolen your heart.”

“I understand.” Or at least, I was trying to.

Ignoring the doubt and fear in his gaze, I closed the distance between us and straddled his lap. Reaching for his wrists, I wrapped his arms around me. It was his doubt more than anything else that convinced me this wasn’t just some chance for him to score. His emotions were clear and so perfect they made me want to melt into his arms and convince him how I felt about him—not just who he used to be, but also who he was now. “And I’m sorry I can’t forget you. You’re pretty darn unforgettable.” I rested my forehead against his, but didn’t kiss him. It was all I wanted to do, but this had to be on his terms. “I told you this would be hard for me.”

Leaving one arm wrapped around my waist, he lifted the other hand to caress my cheek. “Can we have an agreement before we go any further?”

“What?”

“Us. The past. It doesn’t exist anymore. It can’t.”

My brows pinched. “I can’t just forget about the last seven years, Clay.”

He closed his eyes and gave a shuddering sigh. “I just mean, can we put it behind us? I don’t care about then, I care about now. I don’t care about who I was, I care about who I am. Let’s just live for today, yeah?”

I nodded. “I think I can do that.”

My lips were so close to his, and he swallowed my last word as he pressed his mouth against mine. A whimper left me at the desperation in his kiss. How long ago had he started to feel more? I wanted to ask, but didn’t want to break the spell.

His confidence grew again and he reached for the hem of my shirt. Inch by inch, he lifted the material up and off me. I’d been dreaming of it, missing him so much, that I could barely breathe now that it was happening. His fingertips trailed paths over every inch of me, building the need in me until I couldn’t contain it any longer. My bra followed shortly after, his fingers trailing a path over the outline of my breasts.

He whimpered against my skin as he thrust his hips forward. I tipped my head back as his lips explored. After a moment, he stilled all movement, drawing my attention back to him.

Despite my fear that I’d done something to make him stop, he was as intent as ever. Only, he’d sunk back against the back of the sofa and used his gaze, rather than his fingertips, to examine my body. It reminded me of our first time together, when he’d spent so long absorbing every detail.

It was only then I realized that for him, this was the first time.

My heart leaped into my throat as understanding grew within me about just how monumental a moment his was for him. He might not have had any memories of anything before a few months ago, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t make new ones. I had an opportunity to have a second first time with him, but with the knowledge of everything he preferred. I had the opportunity to blow his mind.

I smirked at the thought.

“What is it?” he asked, brushing his thumb over my smile.

Tilting my head a little, I captured his thumb between my lips and sucked it into my mouth. The little moan he issued was everything. When he tipped his head back, I rolled my hips over his, earning another little groan of delight. I wanted more.

Continuing the slow motion of my hips, I explored his body with my hands, peeling his clothing away piece by piece. He released another slow, stuttering breath as I backed off his lap and made short work on his pants and boxer shorts.

His gaze followed my every movement as I sank to my knees in front of him. With slow movements, partly to prolong his pleasure but also because I wanted to give him the opportunity to stop if anything was happening too fast, I trailed my hands along his thighs and found my position between his knees.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of his body under my skin. I imagined I could feel our auras dancing together, and smiled as I realized Clay would be able to see that. Kissing a path along his happy trail, I relished in the sharp intake of breath he drew as I took him into my mouth.

“God, Evie, that’s . . .” He trailed off into a garbled cry as I stroked my tongue over his length. I set a rhythm I knew he liked. Every hum, sigh, and groan was music to my ears.

When his groans grew in intensity, I pulled away and sat back on my haunches.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured.

“There’ll be time for more of that later,” I said. “We haven’t even started living for the day yet.”

I stood and removed the last of my own clothing. When I stepped free of my panties, Clay reached out his hand to me, guiding me onto his lap. I sat on his thighs, desperate to move forward and join with him, but equally wanting to take my time—to let him move when he was ready.

His fingertips kneaded the muscles on my lower back, rubbing circles and stroking paths that drove me crazy. Outside of that movement though, he seemed to have stopped.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I—” He sighed and swallowed down his words. For a moment he closed his eyes. “I haven’t done this before.”

I didn’t argue with him even though the statement was technically incorrect.

“Tell me if I’m doing anything wrong, okay?” As the words left him, his hands moved and he began to trace new paths over my body.

“You’re doing pretty good so far,” I murmured before leaning forward to claim his mouth. As I did, his fingertips found the apex of my thighs. The gentle touch was exactly what I’d needed—longed for—since his return, but it wasn’t enough, stoking the fire rather than quelling it.

I was ready for him, ready to claim Clay—in whatever form I could. Coaxing his hand out of the way, I grabbed hold of his shaft and guided it to my entrance. Matching moans left us as I sank over him.

I’ve missed you! The words danced on the tip of my tongue, desperate to fight their way free, but I couldn’t let them out. They would signal the end of the union, because it would be proof that I wanted my husband back more than I wanted the man in front of me. It was true, and at the same time, it wasn’t.

Forcing the thoughts and doubts out of my head, I did what I’d promised to do. I lived for the moment. Relished his touch. Enjoyed his kiss. Panted his name as a prayer while he moved inside me.

One thing was certain. It didn’t matter what we faced, it would be together. Nothing could tear us apart. Not life. Not even death. We were one, and whatever was thrown at us we’d deal with it together.

An hour later, we were a grinning pile of limbs tangled on the sofa.

“Wow!” he exclaimed against the shell of my ear. His breath tickled through my hair. “That was beyond anything I’d expected. How on earth do people get anything else done when that’s an option?”

His words reminded me that it wasn’t just our first time for him. Because he’d lost all of his memories, he had no recollection of his real first time. For him it was the first time. He’d just arrived suddenly at adulthood with a killer instinct and a bursting libido.

“I forget that you need to experience all of these things again,” I said.

“And again, and again,” he chuckled, kissing my collarbone.

I nudged him with my shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. And I’m grateful that you’ve taken the time to show me things. My instincts were right about you.”

“Not the ones where you wanted to kill me,” I clarified.

“Of course not,” he said before murmuring, “I can’t believe I ever let Dad convince me of those things. That I almost killed Ethan just to get to you. Or that I almost killed you and the twins.”

“You’ve more than made up for that though.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying to make it up to you. Just tell me what you need and it’ll be done.”

“I have everything I need.” I leaned my head against his chest and listened to the slowing beat of his racing heart. “Right here.”