I shrug. “We didn’t go there that often, only on special occasions.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t understand why we didn’t spend money that we inherited.”
“You know then.”
He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Yeah, Duke told me on the plane ride home. He said that we were rich, but we didn’t live off the money.”
“That’s mostly true. We hadn’t decided what to do with the money, beyond renovating the bungalow. You and I both inherited money when we turned twenty-one. Since we didn’t work for it... it felt weird to spend it on ourselves. But the people who gave it to us, your dad and mine loved us, so maybe we were looking at it the wrong way. We had plans to discuss it more, but we never got ‘round to it.”
“What else did we not get around to?” he asks.
“Lots of things that couples talk about doing, especially before they have kids,” I say evenly. I want to tell him about Connor so badly. This would be the perfect moment. We’re in a familiar spot, one that holds good memories for us both, and he’s so open right now.
“Shit. Kids. Thank God we didn’t have one of those. I would have lost my mind all over again, missing major milestones and basically the first three years of their life. They wouldn’t even know me. Hell, I don’t’ know my dad anymore and it hurts at the oddest of times.” He leans back against the willow, closing his eyes. “It’s a damn good thing we didn’t do something so stupid, isn’t it?”
“Yup.” I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that it starts to bleed. “I think I’m going to swim now.”
Moving my hand from under his, I slide into the water and then under the surface, letting the current carry me away. Out of nowhere, I’m taken from the cocoon of cool water and I gasp, sucking it in my lungs.
Laird is shouting at me as he pounds on my back. I sputter and cough violently until all the water is gone. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“What the hell was that about?” he asks, his face dark, his eyes wild. His shirt clings to him like a second skin, revealing the hard muscles and tight abs underneath. “Why did you leave in the middle of our conversation?”
“I told you what I was doing.” I pull out my shirt, wringing the water from it, but when I let go, it suctions to my skin, like tentacles. “And I thought our conversation was over.”
“You were under there for a long time and you just kept floating further and further away.”
“I was holding my breath. Now do you understand why you insisted I was part mermaid?”
He takes a step toward me, then another and another until I start backing up. “I understand that you scared the fuck out of me, love.”
“Take the way you felt and magnify it by a billion and you might come close to understand how I felt the day you went missing.”
His jaw works and I fully expect some retort about his rehabilitation or fucked up brain, but he takes me by surprise, snatching me to him. I grab his shoulders, attempt to push him away, but my stupid body won’t obey. Instead I pull him closer and our mouths crash together, like the seventh wave meeting the shore. The one that you see coming but can’t ever tell exactly how hard it will hit you until you’re caught up in its power.
Our teeth click together in desperation.
Lust.
Love.
One hand is on the back of my head while his free arms snakes around my back and holds me prisoner. But how can I be a prisoner when I want to stay like this forever.
There is no finesse in our kiss, no tender sweeping feelings, just raw, pent-up desire that rules over us both. He strips my clothes away, his eyes devouring me before his lips follow, driving me crazy as he lowers me to the grassy river bank.
This is a bad idea I think for a millisecond, but then Laird pulls his shirt over his head and my hands are on the waist band of his shorts, freeing his erection from his cloths. I squeeze the length of him, earning a groan so earnest that I whimper and do it again.
As the sun beats down on us, he covers me, droplets of water practically sizzling as they hit my skin. He dips a finger inside of me and I cry out, then he adds another and another, sliding in and out until I’m slicker than the grass beneath me.
He hooks my thighs around his waist, his hand on my jaw forcing my gaze to his as he ever so slowly sinks inside of me. I can’t look away, don’t want to look away.
He is mine, and I am his.
His eyes roll and I swear mine do as well. He pulls out and I claw at him.
“I’m coming back, love. Just wait.” Sure enough, he’s true to his word, giving me every inch I’d been denied for so long. “You are so fucking sweet.”
I arch my back, and he descends on me, sucking at my nipples in turns. I’m mindless like this, pinned to the ground as I writhe in pleasure under him. He strokes me deeper, grunting as he grasps my hips.
“Please tell me you’re close,” he growls, his upper lip beaded with sweat. “Please, love.”
“I’m... sooo close,” I whimper.
Suddenly, he pulls out, flips me over and mounts me from behind. “I couldn’t last much longer.” He finds my clitoris on the first go and I wonder if he remembers or is simply that lucky, but I can’t dwell on that because his fingers are pressing against me and his erection is so deep that I can feel him everywhere.
My hips shoot back, my orgasm making me gasp, making me claw at the grass as it runs through me. Laird remains relentless, pounding in me now, his legs braced against the bank of the river. He groans my name, coming inside of me as my thighs quiver and my body relaxes.
Slowly, as if he’s coming back to himself, Laird pulls out of me. Silently, he helps me to my feet and scoops up water to wash me off. Twinges of pleasure and pain make me grimace, but Laird doesn’t notice.
He’s still trying to clean up the mess we made. I wave him away. “I’m fine. Really. When we get back, I’ll take a shower.”
Finally, he stands up and looks at me. “I... I shouldn’t have done that.”
My heart is already pounding like a freight train, but his admission makes it derail the track. “Shouldn’t have done what?”
“All of it.” He clenches his jaw. “I put us in a position I’m not ready for.”
“A baby.” I wasn’t thinking of a baby in the moment, but I wasn’t thinking of preventing one from happening either. Laird and I never had sex until we were married, and I couldn’t get pregnant for three years... until Connor.
My heart pinches and my stomach dips to my toes.
“Yeah. I thought we could plan on one of those later, if... just later.” He firms his lips, then gets out of the river and starts to search for his clothes.
I get out as well and put on the first thing I grab, my t-shirt and shorts. I have no idea where my bra and panties floated to. “Don’t you want kids?”
“Eventually, after I get my memories back.”
I sigh thickly. “What if you never get them back? What then?”
He steps back so quickly, like I physically wounded him. “Why would you say that?”
“Why wouldn’t you think that’s a possibility?” I fist my hands on my hips. “I’ve accepted the fact that you might never remember me the way I want you to. Why can’t you?”
He starts to answer, then abruptly pivots. “Get in the truck, Lia. I’ll take you home.”
“You never called me Lia,” I say quietly.
That makes him stop dead in his tracks. He rounds on me, his eyes steely. “I’m not the man you married, and like you said, I might not ever be.”
Chapter Sixteen
Laird
A STORM ROLLS IN JUST as I finally fall drift off to asleep, leaving me wide awake. I fucking hate storms, but I hate the way I treated Ophelia earlier today even more.
Could I have been more of an asshole? Only a complete moron would have missed the fact that we must have discussed having kids or were in the process of trying to have one. Even in my limited knowledge, I know people who don’t want babies take
precautions not to have them... and I sure as hell didn’t break out a condom.
Didn’t ask if she were on anything either.
It’s weird that I remember things like this, things that mean nothing to me or to my wife in the grand scheme of things, but I can’t remember her birthday. I don’t know her favorite color, or the way she takes her coffee.
Does she like coffee? I don’t. Apparently, the old Laird did though.
Except I do know the little whimpers she makes when I’m inside of her, the way her neck arches and her nipples get so tight. The way her pussy clenches around my dick as she comes so hard that I couldn’t help but join her. I know how amazing she felt in my arms, how right it was for us to be together like that.
In that moment, I couldn’t concentrate on anything but her. Not my past, my present or my future. Only Ophelia.
Good thing you screwed that up before you got all sappy and told her you loved her. Imagine the chaos.
Shut up.
Hey, I’m just here for the comedic relief you need when things get deep.
I pummel my pillow with my fist and toss and turn to find a position that will relax me, but I can’t get comfortable.
Thunder booms and lightning flashes, then all hell breaks loose. It starts to pour and my heart races, just like it always does. Dr. Drees once told me that he believed it was directly tied to my trauma, but I’m not so sure.
Then again, it turns out neither of us are experts.
With a dark chuckle, I close my eyes and try to sleep again. In the morning, I’ll be an adult, a rational adult, and talk to Ophelia, tell her about what Dr. Vance said, and then apologize.
Or maybe I’ll start with the apology.
Finally, finally my mind starts to drift, and I let myself go.
MY EYES OPEN. A SILENT scream made of air trapped in bubbles flows from my mouth.
I’m trapped underwater and I can’t breathe. I try to claw my way to the top, but my hands are empty. There isn’t a ladder to help me, a rope that will pull me to safety.
I start to float away, but then my mermaid appears. Tail swishing as she comes to me. Her skin is cold and wet as she envelopes me in her arms and pulls me to shore.
For once I don’t fight her. Instead I work with her, crawling like a baby in the sand until the waves can’t pull me under again. My little mermaid is at my side, brushing my hair from my face and kissing my cheeks.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “You’re safe now.”
Thinking she’ll swim away, I pull her to me, trapping her with an arm and leg thrown over her. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not. I won’t.” She kisses me again. “I made a vow to be with you even when you’re at your worst. And when I’m at my worst, too.”
As I sweep a hand down her back and feel nothing but bare flesh, I realize my mermaid has grown legs. No scales, no tail. Only wet, bare flesh.
My erection grows as does my desire for her.
“I want you.” My fingers are in her hair, my mouth on hers, kissing her with everything inside of me, everything I’m afraid to share with anyone but the one who always saves me from the storms. “Let me be with you. Swear I’ll be everything you need.”
“You already are... you just don’t believe in yourself.”
Suddenly the seventh wave crashes over us and I wake up, rising to a sitting position with a gasp. Sunlight hits me straight in the face and I wince, closing one eye and squinting the other.
It’s morning. The storm is over.
“Laird,” Ophelia murmurs, moving against me. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
I touch her shoulder; her skin is ice cold and the pajamas she’s wearing are still wet. The sheets under her are soaked.
The curtains of my window gust inward. I didn’t leave the window open.
Frowning, I stare at the window a bit longer. My room is on the second floor, but there’s a... what did Momma call it—a Juliet balcony. Beneath it is a trellis, the wooden structure heavy with ivy. She didn’t actually climb that to get to me, did she?
At the edge of my mind is a memory, actually a cluster of them and in the center is Ophelia. I reach for them, but they disappear.
“Damnit,” I growl in frustration, hitting the mattress on the opposite side of my wife.
She wakes up, staring at me, her eyes wide I shock. “Oh no. You’re awake... I was supposed to leave before you woke up.”
“Why?” I lay back down beside her, my hand on her arm. With gentle pressure, I trace a pattern on her skin. She doesn’t move, instead she watches my face as I watch her. “Why would you need to leave before I woke up?”
“Because we argued and the only way I know how to respond is to retreat.”
“Did you retreat when the storm started?” I ask, making lazy circles now. I dip my head, kissing the center of one and making her gasp.
“What?”
“Did you retreat when the storm started?” I repeat.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to come at first, but...” She worries her lip. “It’s what I’ve always done.”
“How did you get here?” The path in the woods. My eyebrows shoot to my forehead. “Did you walk here in the middle of the night?”
“Just like always,” she whispers. A dark curl slips from the messy bun on her head. I take the rest down, carefully working the hair tie so that I don’t yank the thick locks. Not an easy thing to do one-handed. “Then I jimmied open the window and climbed in your bed.”
“You saved me from an ocean of nightmares, little mermaid,” I murmur against her skin, turning her until she is lying beneath me. I like her like this, sweetly cradling me with her hips, her hands on my biceps while she gazes so trustingly at me.
Emotion threatens to overwhelm me. This woman loves me so much that she’d risk rejection to ease my pain. I can’t say the same thing about myself. I rejected her on sight.
Tears slip from the corners of her pretty eyes, scalding my heart. “Why are you crying?”
“Because I hate that you don’t love me. I want to be strong. I want to love you at your worst, but I didn’t know it would be so hard.” She’s sobbing openly now, and I swear if I could crack open my chest and rip out my heart to give into her safe keeping I would. “I waited all these years for you to come home, and you get to move on, while I’m still clinging to a past I can’t have a future with.”
I have no words for her, nothing that will give her true comfort. Yes, I love her, but...
Wait. I love Ophelia. I’ve loved her since she—shit the elusive cluster of memories are there.
I squeeze my eyes shut, reach for one and snag it.
It’s our wedding day. I’m wearing a button down and khaki pants with purple and yellow checked patterned Converse. Ophelia’s hands are in mine. She’s glowing with love, her beauty so pure that I can’t breathe. She’s wearing a strapless white gown with pink and purple ribbons woven around her waist like a belt. In her dark hair are more flowers and I know that my sister Quinn had a hand in the design.
“I , Laird Connor King, take you Ophelia Penelope Randolph to be my wife,” I begin, repeating after the justice of the peace.
Love overwhelms me as we finish our vows, trade rings and seal our vows with a kiss.
I don’t know quite what to do with this emotion... except surrender to it. That’s what the old Laird did, without hesitation. He surrendered to Ophelia, left himself open for rejection or acceptance, and she gave him that same gift in return.
Ophelia gave me that gift again.
“I don’t deserve you,” I say, opening my eyes.
Her sobs have subsided slightly, but she’s sniffling. Now I know how pretty my wife is even when she ugly cries, and I hate it because I don’t think the old Laird ever saw her like this.
“No, you don’t,” she agrees.
I chuckle.
She frowns. “That wasn’t supposed to be funny.”
“I laughed anyway. It�
��s a new me thing.” I kiss the tip of her nose, the plumpness of her cheeks and center of her forehead until she stops crying. “There are a lot of new things about me you’ll have to get used to.”
My wife’s forehead creases. She’s looking at me like I’m out of mind, which is close to a true statement for me.
“I remembered our wedding day.”
“You did?” She eyes me skeptically. “What did your shoes look like?”
“They were a hideous shade of purple and yellow patterned Converse sneakers. Why did you let me wear them?”
“Because you loved those ugly things and oh my goodness. You do remember.” Her mouth drops open wide. “What else do you remember?”
“Not much. What you were wearing. How beautiful you were when we kissed. How much I love you.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t think her eyes could get wider, but they get so big that I can barely see the pale green color. “What did you say? Say it slowly, please.”
“I, Laird Connor King, love you, Ophelia Penelope Randolph. What’s your favorite color and when’s your birthday? I don’t want to miss celebrating it.
“Blue like your eyes and I already had birthday in February. We’ll celebrate next year.” Then her mouth is on mine, her kisses like sweet fire.
Later, much later, when I’m inside of her, with her moving above me, and she’s on edge, I worry the precious shell of her ear with my teeth and whisper, “I love you.”
She cries out my name, riding me until I grab her hips and thrust deep, giving everything to her that I have. When I can think straight again, I pull her to me, stroke her back until she falls asleep in my arms. A second later, it seems, I do the same.
This time, there aren’t any nightmares.
Chapter Seventeen
Ophelia
“LET ME MOVE BACK IN with you, love,” Laird says as he washes my hair. We’re in his shower, a place I’d never thought I’d be, especially given that we never had any sort of intimacy in this house. We had our own place to learn each other’s likes and dislikes... and our honeymoon.
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