He swallowed. “Including the bad stuff?”
“Including the bad stuff.”
Chapter Seven
‡
Luke opened the front door to Lily’s townhome and stepped inside, flipping on lights and adjusting the thermostat. She trailed behind him for a minute and then stopped in the middle of the living room.
“This is where I live?” she asked.
Turning to her, he nodded. “Yeah, it’s a really nice place and in a nice part of town. Close to work, stores, shopping, and …I sound like a realtor.”
“You were doing a good job,” she said. “But I hate the décor.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “It’s kinda plain. Classy, but plain.”
Lily had always loved bright colors and prints. She loved anything that made a statement. This beige world that she now stood in was nothing like the girl she was at nineteen would have wanted.
“You can always change it,” he said.
“Then it would look silly. Besides, who would want to cover up this buttercream leather?” She froze. “I remember the exact color of the sofa.” Her eyes went wide. “That’s a good thing, right?”
He nodded, even as his stomach dropped to his toes. “That’s a wonderful thing.”
She scrunched her eyes closed. “I remember….” Grimacing¸ she massaged her temples and said, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
He caught her up in his arms, pulling her to him, lightly running his hands up and down her stiff back. “Don’t try so hard. Let it come to you.”
“Stop making sex talk,” she said and pulled away. “I didn’t mean to…never mind,” she said miserably.
Man, he was making this worse for her. “I’m not—it’s fine. I won’t… look, you don’t have to remember everything, or anything at all, right away. Hell, it’s a miracle you’re even alive.” The thought of her almost dying was enough to make him want to bubble wrap her entire body and make her wear a helmet.
“I know. Everyone’s told me a hundred times,” she said. “It’s like they expect me to answer them differently.”
“I think we’re all just happy you’re here. You have a lot of people who care about you.”
“Like who?”
“Willow Vaughn for one.”
She stared at him blankly. “I have no idea who that is.”
“Petite, light brown hair, light blue eyes. Wedding planner. She’s about five years younger than you.”
“Then I wouldn’t have known her from high school.”
“Not many people did. She’s one of those wallflower types.”
For some reason, Lily grinned. “Still reading your sister’s novels, huh?”
“Real men read romance,” he deadpanned. But he couldn’t contain his chuckle.
When she first found out he read them, she’d ribbed him endlessly and driven him insane. But then, she would ask for his favorite steamy moments so she could act them out with him. That, he enjoyed immensely.
“I had groceries delivered to your house earlier today. Denise, your assistant, put everything away for you,” he said.
“Don’t know her either,” she said, running her hand along the back of a pale, mint-green chair. “But if you say I trust her, then I trust you to trust her.”
Once again, he was at a loss for words. She trusted him without question, even though she knew they were divorced. “Are you hungry? I can make something or get takeout.”
“Holland Springs has takeout?” she asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.
“Yes.”
“Besides pizza?”
He nodded, hating the way the light was slowly fading in her eyes. “You have a stack of menus by your landline.”
“My what?”
“Landline. You still have one.”
“You mean a telephone?” she said, moving to the kitchen.
He followed her, stopping at the breakfast bar. “Yes, a telephone, but most people call these,” he picked up the cordless phone, “landlines to distinguish them from cell phones.”
She frowned. “I guess I like to be different.”
“Different is good,” he said, rifling through the half-dozen menus. “Denise said your favorites were these three.”
“You don’t know my favorites?”
“I only know one. We haven’t been back together that long.”
“Oh.” That oh was telling, yet he had no idea what she meant. “I’m not hungry.” She lifted her gaze to his. The weary, lost look in her beautiful eyes devastated him. “I’m exhausted. I want to go to bed.”
“Then I’ll go.” He wanted to stay, wanted to take her in his arms and keep her safe. Comfort her. Say all the things she needed to hear, all the things he actually meant, but more than just the island bar separated them. Years separated them once more, but in the cruelest of ways. “But if you need me, call me. I programmed my number into your cell. Go to contact, and then look me up alphabetically. Your phone is user friendly, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Thanks.”
He gave her his friendliest smile. “Night, sweetheart. Remember, I’m just a phone call away.”
Lily watched him turn to leave, felt her heart kick against her chest like a sledgehammer. She was exhausted and scared and—and lost. She felt like a little girl playing house. It didn’t matter that the house belonged to her. That everything in it belonged to her. The woman who bought this place, decorated it, was as foreign to her as her own birth mother.
“Don’t go,” she cried, running from the kitchen and straight to him. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Lily,” he said on a ragged exhale, scooping her up in his arms and heading to the back of the house. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to stay. To take care of you, but I—”
“No buts. Stay. Take care of me. I need a shower. I need to sleep. I need you to hold me all night long.” She grabbed his shirt, her fingers curling into the material. “I need you, Luke. You said we were trying to be together again, so this has to be right. You staying is the right decision. You feel right to me. I need you so much.”
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that, and I need you just as bad.” He entered her bedroom and gently set her on her feet. “But a part of me feels really guilty about needing you because in your head, you’re only nineteen. I’m thirty-three. It feels like I’m taking advantage of you somehow.”
“I’ve lost my memory, not my autonomy.” She wrapped her arms around him, leaning back a little to stare up into his sexy face. “Stay the night, but only to sleep. I can’t handle any more than that anyway.”
He exhaled. “You go take a shower, and I’ll fix a snack.” A lopsided grin kicked up the corners of his mouth. “I’m actually hungry, and you know whatever I make, you’ll have to have some.”
“I can’t help it. Your snacks always taste better than mine.” She grinned. “Haven Crawford said it was a scientific fact that food made by other people is more desirable than what we make ourselves.”
Luke blinked at her. “You remember Haven?”
An image of a woman with silver eyes and cotton candy-colored hair appeared in her head. “Yes.”
“You didn’t go to high school with her. She’s the same age as Willow,” he said.
“She hosts a Thursday night book club with your sister, Zoe. I’m remembering,” she said, suddenly lightheaded. More images bombarded her of women talking about books, drinking wine. She was there, in the middle of it all, enjoying herself. “I need to sit down.”
Luke grabbed her before she could fall and guided her to the bed. She lay back, closing her eyes. “Why would I remember that of all things?”
“I have no idea,” he said. The bed dipped under his weight. He pulled her into his arms. She breathed in his familiar scent—at least that had stayed the same. The way he held her, too. As if she were precious to him.
But she couldn’t be precious to him, not like be
fore.
“But we’ll get through this, Lily. I promise.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Do you feel weird laying here with me in bed?” She had no idea how far they had taken things while trying to work out their relationship. Luke had said slowly, but who knew what that meant.
“Yes and no, but I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to,” he said.
“I haven’t looked at my reflection,” she admitted. “I’m so shallow and vain that I’m afraid to.”
“You wouldn’t be shocked. I think you’re even prettier now.”
“That’s because everything goes downhill once someone is your advanced age.”
He grunted. “I’m not that old.”
“I was only kidding.”
“Har-har.”
Opening her eyes, she took his hand in hers, lining their fingers up. His hands were so much bigger than hers. They were strong, capable, yet elegant. They could save lives. They could bring her pleasure.
She sighed. “Dr. Jeon said I should try to live my life as normally as possible. I guess that means I should go to work tomorrow.”
“That sounds like a plan. I need to go to work, too. Helena needs me back.”
“Who’s Helena?” she asked and for no reason at all, jealousy began to creep up in her chest. She pushed it down, refusing to let it rule her response to anything he might say.
“My partner. We own Holland Springs Medical Center together.”
“So she took care of things—”
“While I waited for you,” he finished. “She hired some temporary help. Hopefully, the temporary help won’t make me lose my job.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t lose your job if you own the business.”
A tidal wave of weariness hit her, harder than before. Physically, beyond her lack of memory recall, she was fine, but emotionally—not so much. She was in such turmoil. One minute laughing and the next barely holding her tears at bay.
It was hard to think of them as being divorced when in her mind, they’d just gotten married only four months earlier.
“True. Tomorrow should be easier for you. Dr. Jeon said that your body—muscle memory and the like—will remember routines and dance moves, so that should help. You just have to take it easy. Very easy.”
“But I won’t know my students or staff.”
“Maybe you will.”
She didn’t want to think about it right now. She didn’t want the added burden of anxiety. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Then don’t. I’ll hold you until you fall asleep or want me to leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave.” Ever.
“Fine by me.”
He sounded as though he meant it. She wanted to believe that he meant it, too.
Honestly, she had no other choice.
Chapter Eight
‡
Lily was running. No, not running. She was being chased by an unseen pursuer. Hand with claws for fingers reached for her, grabbing her hair. She tried to fight the hands, but her body moved too slowly, like she was trying to punch through molasses. Suddenly, she was thrown into the air, her body flailing while she screamed over and over for someone to save her.
Then she slammed into the ground.
She woke up screaming. Light blinded her.
Disoriented, she attempted to search for the source, but came up against a hard, warm wall instead. She whimpered, hating how pathetic she sounded, but what else could she do?
“You’re okay. I’m here,” the wall repeated over and over in the most soothing voice she’d ever heard. Finally, she realized the wall had a name.
“Luke,” she breathed. Her entire body shook. The more she tried to stop it, the more she trembled. “Nightmares. They won’t stop. Make them stop.”
“Deep breaths, baby.” He murmured to her in Spanish, sweet words that she vaguely recognized.
My heart, I love you.
Don’t be afraid.
I’m not leaving. I’m right by your side.
While they were together, he rarely spoke Spanish in her presence, saving it for when he was pissed off or supremely emotional about something, but by that time, he was speaking at her, not to her.
He hadn’t bothered to teach her the phrases he used against her, but the loving ones…he had taught her those between kisses, while making love to her.
At the reminder, her body responded to him, her nipples hardening as heat flowed through her, thawing the icy fear that had threatened to paralyze her in bed.
She sought his mouth, finding it unerringly fast. He groaned low in his throat as she pressed against him, as she poured her desire into their kiss. His arms tightened around her, one hand going to her hair, cupping the back of her head.
He took the lead, slowing their kiss and taking his time to explore her mouth. She sighed, melting against him. This she remembered, his touch, his kiss…the way his body moved with hers. His hand glided down her back to cup her bottom, pulling her in tight. His erection hit her inner thigh.
“I love your lips,” she said, pushing him down onto his back. “I love kissing you.”
“Lily, I think we—”
She hushed him with a kiss and straddled his legs. His hips surged upward, and he let out a ragged groan that made her smile. “Still want me, don’t you?”
“Yes, but it’s not—this isn’t…you just got home from the hospital,” he argued, but she noticed he didn’t stop kissing her back and he sure as heck didn’t move his hand from her butt cheek.
“You said we were trying again,” she reminded him. “How far into trying did we get?”
He looked up at her, his dark eyes so sexy that she nearly melted into a puddle. “I thought you didn’t want anything more than to sleep, actually sleep, tonight.”
“I need help sleeping,” she said, finding the hem of his sweater and inching her hands upward. When she found his hard abs, she grinned. “Still workout, huh?”
“Yes. Every day.” His stomach contracted under her palms. “Don’t stop touching me.”
“Why would I stop touching you?” she asked, inching her fingers higher until she could graze his nipples with her nails. He shuddered beneath her. “That would just be cruel.”
“The kind of reaction you’re having right now, to me… for me…is a normal…” She shoved up his sweater and licked his hard nipple. “Shit. It’s a—common…to do.” She licked his other nipple and grazed the hard point with her teeth. “I can’t fucking think,” he groaned.
“You think too much, Doctor,” she said, warming up to his reaction to her reaction, as he called it. The one thing they’d never argued about was sex. They’d always been of one mind when it came to that, and since she had learned everything from him, she used what she remembered against him. Really, it was for her benefit because he couldn’t take her being in control but for so long.
It wasn’t his nature. She loved that about him.
Kissing her way down his flat stomach, she unbuttoned his pants and tugged them—and his boxer briefs—down his lean hips. “Oh my gosh, it’s like opening an early present that’s just for me.”
He laughed and groaned as she pressed tiny kisses to the deep v’s on each side of his hips. “You… your enthusiasm is greatly appreciated.”
“This is my very favorite part of you—after your lips and hands, of course.” She cupped his balls and stroked his cock. He managed to lift a stern-looking eyebrow. “Fine, this is my very favorite part of you—no contest.” Sliding back a little, she bent down to take him in her mouth, but he pushed against her shoulder.
She looked up.
“You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to do any of this,” he said.
“I know.” Circling the tip with her tongue, she moaned at the taste of him. “But I want to. I want to pretend that everything is okay with us, even if we’re trying again.”
His jaw worked, a wealth of emotions playing across his beautiful face as
he lay there with his sweater shoved up and his pants to his knees. He was at her mercy. With great care, she began to stroke him and take him into her mouth.
He tangled his fingers into her hair but didn’t push her down. He never did that, always let her go at her own pace instead. His hips moved in time with her mouth, encouraging her to take him deeper as he told her how beautiful she was, how sexy her lips looked wrapped around his cock, how he was going to come inside of her, but not in her mouth.
She stopped for a split second, but it was enough time that he sat up and pushed her down to her back. He stripped her clothes from her, and she helped him, desperate for his touch, desperate to feel him stretch along her body.
Working him up had always turned her on, always made her wet, and tonight was no different. He kissed her once on the mouth, a hard, quick kiss that left her gasping while he nibbled his way to her breasts. They felt heavy, her nipples tight as he licked and sucked and bit at each one.
Spreading her thighs apart, he cupped her and then pushed one finger inside of her, working it in and out while he sucked on her nipple until she was mindless. She grabbed at his shoulder, tugged at his hair, but he was relentless, paying no mind to her pleas to let her come.
“Tell me you love me,” he rasped in her ear.
“I love you.” She gasped. “I love you.”
He flicked his thumb against her clit, giving her one sweet hope of going over the edge before he pulled away from her. Turning her over onto her stomach, he grabbed her hips and pulled her up to him. His thick cock brushed at her entrance.
With infinite patience, he pushed inside of her, filling her to the point of pleasure and pain. She cried out, tossing her hair before looking over her shoulder at him.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Don’t be gentle. I don’t want gentle tonight.”
He grabbed her hair, winding it around his wrist like he’d done so many times before, and began to move in long, deep-seated thrusts that made her push back against him.
She wanted more. She wanted it all. She wanted it fast and deep and mindless.
His grip tightened on her hip, fingers digging into her skin so hard that she knew there would be marks tomorrow. But she didn’t care. She wanted the reminder of him. She wanted him to be so much a part of her that there was no possible way she’d lose her memory of this.
The Forgotten Bride Page 6
