A Kiss to Remember

by Naima Simone

  Tara shook her head. “That’s not true,” she said, quietly, sounding a little lost.

  And for a moment, he softened. Thrusting his fingers through his hair, he said, “Tara, I didn’t want to hurt you. It’s the one thing I actively tried to avoid. And I’m sorry if I did.”

  “It’s just...” Tara turned from him, tightening her arms around herself, her lips rolling in on each other, thinning. When she faced him again, her shoulders lifted, and she fluttered a hand between them. “I know there is affection between us.”

  “Tara.”

  “Y’know, whatever you’re doing with Remi Donovan isn’t fooling me or anyone in this town.”

  And that quickly, any sympathy for her evaporated. He stiffened, studying her, the frustration pinching her skin tight and adding a jerkiness to her usually fluid movements.

  “I don’t really give a damn what other people think, including you.”

  He ignored the voice that pointed out that he’d proposed the bargain with Remi in the first place because of Tara.

  “Obviously. Because the thought of you wanting her, being with her, of all people, is laughable. She’s boring, fa—”

  “Shut the hell up,” he growled. “Say one more word, Tara, and I’ll forget that I was raised not to disrespect women.”

  “Excuse me.”

  Declan jerked his head up and to the side just as Tara whipped around.

  Fuck.

  Remi stood there, perfectly composed and calm. And if not for her eyes... His gut twisted, and he fisted his fingers, the blunt tips biting into his palms. The brown nearly swallowed the bright green and gold. If not for that darkness, he would assume she hadn’t overheard Tara’s ugly words.

  Would assume those words hadn’t landed direct, agonizing blows.

  “Remi.” He moved forward, Tara forgotten, his one goal to get to her. To somehow ease that hurt, make it disappear.

  But she shifted backward. Away from him. And damn if a spike of pain didn’t jab into his chest.

  “We’re about to give out the goody bags. When you’re free, we could use your help passing them out.” Dipping her chin, she pivoted and left, shoulders straight and without a glance back at them.

  “Tara.” His mother stepped forward, and for the first time, Declan noticed her. “I’m going to catch a ride home with a friend. I’ve known you for three years now, and you’ve never been anything but kind to me. But hearing you speak so horribly about someone a couple of minutes ago?” Janet shook her head. “It makes me wonder who you are when I’m not around. And if that is a person I want to know.”

  Janet reached for Declan, squeezed his hand and glanced in the direction Remi had disappeared.

  “She’s special, and you’d be a fool to let her get away.” Brushing a kiss over his cheek, she left.

  “She didn’t mean...” Tara whispered, her voice catching.

  Declan glanced over his shoulder at the other woman, spotting the moisture in her eyes, and for the first time, he believed her tears were real. But they failed to move him.

  “She did. You just looked the consequences of your spite and pettiness in the face. I hope you remember them.”

  He walked away, leaving her alone. Like she deserved.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHO KNEW A person could be completely numb inside and still smile, laugh and behave as if humiliation and pain hadn’t pummeled her with meaty, bruising fists until she’d become a block of ice?

  Seemed every day Remi discovered something new.

  Returning to the Halloween event after overhearing Tara and Declan’s conversation, then pretending nothing had occurred, had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. She’d been grateful for the coldness that had seeped into her veins, her chest.

  But the library had emptied of parents, children, staff and volunteers forty-five minutes earlier, and now she sat in the passenger seat of Declan’s car as he drove through the quiet streets. She couldn’t escape the slow thawing around her heart. Couldn’t escape her relentless thoughts. Couldn’t escape her.

  You wanting her, being with her, of all people, is laughable. She’s boring, fa—

  Remi squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the scenery passing by her passenger window. Too bad she couldn’t block out the memory of Tara’s words. The other woman hadn’t needed to finish the sentence for Remi to discern how it ended.

  Fat.

  Boring and fat.

  Oh God how that hurt.

  The mental door to that vault she tried so hard to keep shut creaked open and more memories crept out. Memories of her mother’s and Patrick’s voices.

  A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips, Remi.

  I just want you to be healthy, Remi.

  Are you sure that choice of dress is wise? It’s not very forgiving, is it?

  The judgments, backhanded compliments and criticisms framed as concern poured into her mind. It’d taken Remi years, but she’d come to love and accept herself. But there were moments like tonight—like the other night with her mother in the café—when her hard-won confidence took enough of a hit that she wavered.

  When she had to remind herself she wasn’t lovable despite her weight or size.

  She was lovable because of them.

  Smothering a sigh, she silently urged the car to go faster. She longed to get home, drag on her favorite Wonder Woman pajamas, pop open a bottle of wine, put on Pride and Prejudice—the version with Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen otherwise known as the best version—and lick her wounds.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would be okay, but God, she needed tonight.

  “Remi, we need to talk about tonight.”

  The thaw inside her sped up, the red-tinged hurt throbbing. Home. Just get me home. It’d been years since she’d last cried in front of someone, and she didn’t intend to break that record tonight. Not with him.

  “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for helping out with setting up and then stepping in when my volunteer didn’t show. I really appreciate it. We all did,” she said, switching the subject from what she suspected he really wanted to talk about.

  “You’re welcome. And the deflection isn’t going to work,” he murmured, voice gentle but firm. Too firm. “Since she would probably never apologize, I’m going to say ‘I’m sorry’ for Tara. What she sa—”

  “Forget it. I have.”

  “Remi,” he tried again.

  “Let. It. Go.”

  Silence permeated the car, weighing down her shoulders, pressing on her chest. She desperately counted the minutes until she arrived home. Rose Bend wasn’t that large a town, but right now it felt like the size of Boston.

  Finally, he pulled up outside her house. Any other time, she would’ve taken a moment to admire the cute, quaint cottage that she’d saved for and bought on her own not far from the beautiful Kinsale Inn. But now, the sight of the yellow-and-white home only inspired relief. She reached for the door handle.

  “Remi.” Declan’s hand clasped her wrist. “Wait.”

  She paused but didn’t glance over her shoulder to look at him, instead perched on the passenger seat ready to flee.

  “Please don’t leave like this. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  She trembled at the “sweetheart,” her eyes briefly closing.

  Whatever you’re doing with Remi Donovan isn’t fooling me or anyone in this town.

  She wasn’t his sweetheart, and everyone knew it. Hell, even her own mother found it hard to believe. Because a man like him couldn’t desire, couldn’t... Love a woman like her. A beautiful, charismatic, brilliant, sexy as hell man couldn’t want a successful, independent, educated woman just because she happened to wear a size sixteen.

  At least, that’s what they believed.

  Her? Well, before tonight, the last three weeks h
ad offered her hope that Declan was attracted to her. Her mind had warned her that the heated glances, the fleeting caresses to her cheek, the holding of her hand, the jokes and laughter they shared, the phone calls and texts they exchanged—they were all part of the charade. But her heart failed to get the message. Her stupid heart took each gesture as proof that he felt something for her.

  And she understood now why she grasped that hope so desperately.

  Because in these three weeks, each caress, each glance, each compliment had worked toward transforming her longtime crush for him into love.

  Yes, she so, so foolishly had fallen in love with Declan Howard.

  Her head bowed, forehead pressing against the cold window.

  She’d fallen for the most emotionally unavailable man in Rose Bend.

  “Talk to you?” she said, leaning back in the seat and turning to him. “What is there to talk about? I told you I’m fine.”

  “Actually, you didn’t. You just ordered me to let it go. But too many people in your life have done that, and I refuse to be another one who ignores your pain.”

  She stared at him, forcing her fingers to remain flat on her thighs and not to ball into fists. “Do you want me to admit that what Tara said hurt? Okay, yes. It hurt like hell. Do I want your apology on her behalf? No. I don’t want it or need it. It’s insulting to both of us. That should sum it up, right? Are we done here? Good.”

  “Hell no, we’re not done. We’re friends, dammit.”

  Oh God, didn’t that just punch a hole in her chest?

  “There. Satisfied? Now, good night.”

  She reached for the door handle again.

  “If you get out of this car, I will follow you to that front door, Remi,” he rumbled.

  She threw her hands up in the air, loosing a harsh laugh that abraded her throat. “What more do you want from me? A pound of flesh? According to your ex-girlfriend, I can afford to sacrifice a few—”

  His arm shot out, and his hand hooked behind her neck, hauling her forward. His mouth crushed down on hers, swallowing the words from her lips. Her moan surged up her throat, offering itself like a sacrifice to him. She was helpless at the erotic onslaught, opening herself wider and wider to this wild thing that masqueraded as a kiss. He took from her over and over, slanting his mouth, diving deep, sucking harder as if starved, as if desperate.

  As if afraid she would disappear if he didn’t gorge himself in this moment.

  Or maybe she was projecting.

  Declan lifted his other hand to her chin, swept his hand over the shallow cleft there. Once and twice. Such a simple, small caress, but it echoed in a soft flutter between her legs, and she clenched her thighs against the sweet, erotic sensation.

  God, touch me there... Kiss me there.

  The plea bounced inside her head, words she longed to utter aloud. She’d never believed that opportunity would be hers.

  Did you want it to be?

  The low, insidious whisper slid through her lust-hazed mind. And no matter how hard she pressed her lips to Declan’s, how hard she thrust her tongue against his, she couldn’t evict the question from her thoughts. Did she? If she took this step with him, there was no coming back. And for her, it wouldn’t be just sex. Not with him. Her heart was already involved. Giving him her body, too, would cement an epic fall that would make Icarus’s look like a mere stumble.

  “Invite me inside.”

  Declan issued the hoarse plea-wrapped-in-a-demand, and it reverberated loudly in the confines of his car. She stared at him, emotionally on a precipice. One step off could mean joy for her... Or utter heartbreak.

  Was she brave enough to find out which?

  He brushed his thumb under the curve of her bottom lip, the hand at her nape a gentle weight. But he waited, allowing her to make this decision, even though desire darkened his eyes to indigo and his mouth bore the damp, swollen mark of their raw kiss.

  “Come inside.”

  Inside my house. Inside my body. My heart. My soul.

  She issued the invitation, knowing he would only take her up on two of those. And even as he exited the car, rounded the hood and opened her door, she accepted it.

  Moments later, she led him into her home, and as soon as they crossed the threshold, Declan closed the door behind them, twisting the lock. All without removing his hooded gaze from her.

  Need dug its dark claws into her, and her thighs trembled with the force of it. How was it possible to want this much? To feel like if he didn’t put his hands on her, his mouth on her, his cock inside her, she would crawl out of her skin? Lose her mind?

  “Touch me.”

  Two words. They were all she could push past her constricted throat. They were all that were necessary.

  He stalked forward, shrugging out of his coat, peeling his sweater and dark T-shirt over his head, dropping all the clothing to the floor. Her breath expelled from her lungs on a hard, long whoosh.

  Jesus Christ.

  Clothed, he was beautiful.

  Bared, with golden skin stretched across taut, flexing muscle, he was magnificent.

  She couldn’t move, her gaze greedily bingeing on the wide breadth of his shoulders, the wall of his chest, the corded strength of his arms. That ridged ladder of abs with the dark silky line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.

  A waistband his hands had dropped to.

  “Wait.” She popped her palms up in the universal sign of Stop.

  “Let me,” she whispered. “I want it.” She clasped her hands together as if holding her passion for him between them. “I want you.”

  “I’m yours.” He beckoned her closer, and as imperious as it seemed... Damn, it was hot, too. “Come get me.”

  Oh God, if only that were true, she mused, crossing the few steps toward him. If only he was really hers. To keep. She shook her head. No place for those thoughts here. Stay in the now.

  “What’re you telling yourself no about?” he murmured, tugging her closer, tunneling his fingers through her hair, his nails scraping over her scalp. Her lashes fluttered closed, and she turned into his big palm, sinking her teeth into the heel, giving him back a little of the pleasure/pain he’d doled out to her. A hiss escaped him, and when he fisted the strands of her hair, pulling, she nipped harder. “This is going to be over before it begins, sweetheart,” he warned, dipping his head to take her mouth in a brief but thorough conquering. “Now what’re you telling yourself no about?”

  No way in hell could she answer that loaded question.

  So she didn’t.

  Instead, she tackled his belt and the closure on his pants. Desperation climbed high inside her, neck and neck with lust. She wanted to drown herself in pleasure. In need. In him. Forget about what awaited her tomorrow. Forget the uncertainty.

  For the first time, she was taking for herself and damn the consequences.

  But he covered her hands with one of his, halting her frantic actions. The other cupped her cheek, tilting her head back.

  “So many times I’ve wondered what goes on behind these lovely hazel eyes. What secrets you’re keeping. And it’s those moments, I consider switching careers and becoming an archeologist whose main job is unearthing those treasures.” He danced his fingertips over her cheekbone, the arch of her nose, the top bow of her lip. “You wouldn’t give up those secrets easily, but they would be worth the work. You are worth the work.”

  Her chest squeezed so tight, she locked her teeth around a cry. No one had ever spoken to her like that. She closed her eyes and bowed her head on the pretense of pressing a kiss to the base of his throat. Anything to avoid having him see the love she knew was in her gaze.

  Declan gripped the sides of her shirt, balling it in his fists until it untucked from her jeans and bared her stomach. She lifted her arms, stamping down the nerves in her stomach. Th
at dark hot need in his eyes couldn’t be faked. He wanted her; he liked her body just as she did. Still... When the top cleared her head and the heat in that indigo gaze flared, the lingering remnants of doubt dissolved like mist.

  “Fuck, sweetheart.” Lust stamped his features, pulling his skin taut over his cheekbones, his lips appearing fuller, more carnal. “Let me...”

  “Please,” she damn near whined.

  He lifted his hands toward her, but at the last minute, lowered his arms.

  “Bedroom,” he ground out.

  Wordlessly, she turned and led him down the hall and into her shadowed bedroom. Moonlight streamed through the large windows, providing more than enough illumination. But Declan must not have thought so because he crossed to the lamp on her bedside table and switched it on, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. Then he crossed back to her in that sensual, almost-feline glide of his, and lust wrenched low in her belly, high in her sex. She couldn’t contain her whimper. Didn’t even try.

  When he reached her, Declan slowly lowered to his knees, his pose worshipful, reverent. As were the hands that removed her boots and jeans. As were the lips that pressed a kiss to her hip just above the line of her black panties.

  As were the words that ordered her back on the bed, heels to the edge of the mattress.

  She shuddered, excitement and vulnerability dueling inside her as she lay exposed to him, evidence of her overwhelming desire for him evident in her soaked flesh, in the damp panel of her underwear.

  Teeth nipped at her sensitive inner thigh, and she jerked at the sensation and the taut anticipation of his mouth giving her what she so desperately hungered for.

  “Shh,” he soothed, brushing a caress over the tender area. “Tell me I can have you, Remi.” He grazed his fingertips over her folds, and she gasped at the featherlight touch, arching into it. Her hands fisted the covers at her hips, needing something to anchor her.