by Maggie Cole
I approach, and he pulls out the chair next to him. “Can you sit here for a minute?”
Excitement passes through me then a caution sign blinks in my mind.
Does he remember?
Don’t get too excited.
A few minutes pass before he murmurs, “Will you humor me?”
“Sure.”
“Can you stand up?”
I do. He grasps me around the waist and pulls me onto his lap. I take a deep breath, and he draws me closer.
“Will you put your arm around me.”
My heart is beating so loud, I’m sure he can hear it. His sexy scent is filling every cell of my body. “Put my arm around you?”
His eyes are wide, lips twitching a little. “Please?”
I know what his brain is trying to remember, and I put my arm around him exactly the way I did that day: around his shoulders, slightly bent, running my fingers through his hair. But he has his cap on, so I’m stroking him on top of it. “Like this?” I murmur.
He removes his hat. His face is inches from mine, and his lips are so close. “Do it now?”
I run my fingers through his hair the same way I did that day.
His right arm moves slowly from the counter to my body then back again. “That’s not right,” he mutters.
I stop.
“No, keep doing what you’re doing but get closer.” His left arm pulls me in, and I lean into him as close as I did that day, feeling his heart beat against his chest.
I exhale and stroke his hair again.
His right arm moves from the counter to my mouth then he repeats it several times, and his eyes widen. He stops moving. I stop moving.
Slowly, Xander looks at me. “Did I feed you pancakes?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“And you wore a black silk robe?”
Tears well up, and I blink repeatedly, willing myself not to cry. “Yes.”
He remembers me?
Xander pushes his forehead to mine. “Then I did this.”
A tear falls down my cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb, pauses, then says, “And then I did this.” He weaves his fingers through my hair until he grasps it by the roots, and he softly parts my lips with his tongue, moving me so I’m straddling him. He embraces me, both hands cupping my head, so I can’t go anywhere.
The heaven I learned only with Xander is upon me, and I fall back into it, not considering anything except him and how my body is buzzing in his arms.
My feet plant themselves on the footrest of the barstool, and my lower body automatically grinds against his growing erection.
We are both breathing hard, and his lips move across my jawline, to my earlobe, down my neck then back to my mouth.
Claiming me.
Worshiping me.
Making me feel like nothing has happened in the last six months, and he only wants me—like no other woman exists or ever could, going forward.
The doorbell rings, and I barely hear it. It rings again. “I think someone is here,” Xander mumbles against my lips.
I pull back. “What?”
The bell rings again. My face flushes. “Oh, the food. Let me find my purse.” I jump off his lap, confused about what this means.
Does he remember everything now? Does he still have feelings for Billie?
“I got it.” Xander goes to the door and buzzes the delivery guy in. He steps into the hallway for him to arrive.
I try to pull myself together, still breathless and telling myself not to freak out.
Xander comes back in the kitchen with food, and I open one of the cabinets, but I stare, not sure what I’m trying to accomplish.
I must have stood there too long because Xander comes behind me and wraps his arms around me. “Hey, you’re shaking.”
I close my eyes, wanting to stay forever in his embrace, but I take a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
“Charlotte.” He turns me to face him. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
He thinks he made me uncomfortable? “You didn’t.”
He scans my eyes. “No?”
“No.” I tell myself not to ask him, but my mouth betrays me. “What else about me do you remember?”
Xander takes a deep breath. “That’s the only thing I remember, besides my dreams.”
“And do you remember anything else...about your twenties?” I almost say her name, but I don’t.
His face falls, and he shakes his head.
My gut drops, and I blink away tears once more.
Xander cups my face. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” I let out a shaky breath.
Xander’s thumb circles on my cheek. “Maybe things will come back now. This memory has to be good, right?”
He’s right. But it hurts that he still has feelings for another woman. I’m so over my head, and I blurt out, “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
Xander’s jaw tenses. “Do you want me to stay away from you?”
I reach for him, pull him into my body, and blurt out, “No!”
He hardens against my stomach as my pulse increases and my sex throbs. Heat fills his eyes. I throw all my worries and thoughts away about how he has feelings for anyone else besides me and succumb to the moment.
“Charlotte—”
I put my finger over his mouth and stare at him.
He kisses my finger while his eyes never leave mine.
Suddenly, he bends down, picks me up, his lips moving over mine. I wrap my legs around his body and he carries me into the bedroom. I pull his shirt over his head, and he grabs my tunic and pulls it off me before slipping his fingers into my leggings and gliding them into my already drenched sex.
I moan.
“I love your sounds,” he whispers in my ear, nibbling at my lobe, circling my clit with his thumb while curling his finger in my heat.
“Oh God,” I breath. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you. Every night you remind me how much,” he murmurs, nuzzling my breasts. His free hand glides under my back and quickly unlatches my bra, as his other fingers continue to drive me to my high.
Whimpering, I grasp his head, pushing his mouth harder onto my breasts.
Warmth moves through me as his tongue slides across my nipples, his fingers circle my pussy, and his hard body lies against mine.
My chest is heaving, trying to find air.
“Xander,” I cry out, as his eyes drill into mine and his fingers push me over the edge, shattering me to pieces. He consumes my mouth with his, continuing to finger fuck me through my high.
I’m clutching him, and he rolls me over on top of him, kissing me with so much heat I don’t know if I’m dizzy from my orgasm or his kisses.
“Please tell me you have condoms,” he murmurs.
“In the drawer.”
He fumbles with my drawer and yanks out a strip of condoms, ripping one open while it’s still attached to the strip.
I unbuckle his pants, and work them off him, then remove my leggings, quickly crawling back into his arms.
Nothing on earth has ever made me feel as safe or wanted as I’m in his arms.
“Hold me tighter,” I whisper, and he draws me closer to him, making me forget any imperfection could ever exist in our relationship.
I sink onto him, moaning.
“So much better than my dreams,” he whispers, leaving no question in my mind how much he wants or needs me, as we writhe in a fury of desire.
I hold on to him tighter than I’ve ever held anyone. Maybe it’s because I’m scared that once this is over, he’ll be gone. Perhaps it’s because it’s been so long since I’ve been able to hold him. Maybe it’s because I assumed I had lost him completely. Whatever the reason, we’re both clinging to each other so tight, only our hips can thrust.
We never stop kissing. Except for words or moans coming out of our mouths, our lips and tongues never move away.
And I’m lost
in all that is Xander. All we were before the accident. All we’ve gone through the last six months. All we are right at this moment.
As confusing as this situation may be, the one thing that doesn’t faze me is my desire to be his.
And I want to be his only.
14
Xander
I’m lost in everything that is Charlotte. Her blue eyes, the soft sea of blonde hair, and her flushed cheeks I’m holding in my hands consume me. A never-ending flame burns into all my cells as her mouth and tongue caress mine.
The scent of flowers after the rain is stronger than in my dreams, and when I hear her moan or cry out my name, it’s as if I’m somehow home.
That’s how Charlotte makes me feel...like home.
Billie never made you feel this way.
The thought lodges in my brain, but I push past it, not wanting to miss a single moment of having Charlotte in my arms.
Night after night, I dreamed of her. Faceless for six months, then last night, it was even more real when I saw her face, but tonight, right now, it’s the most intense moment I’ve ever had.
“You’re perfect,” I tell her as I stare into her blue eyes. And she is. Every single part of her. “We’re perfect together,” I say to her, not able to control what comes out of my mouth.
I don’t know what it is, but around her, I say whatever is on my mind, without holding back or wondering if I should say it or not.
Her eyes catch mine, and her head nods. The most gorgeous mouth I’ve ever seen is in the O that has been haunting my dreams every night.
She slightly shudders, like in my dream, but this time, it’s real. She’s here, in my arms. I pull her even tighter into me before my hands drop from her back and cup her ass, as her walls spasm.
“Xander,” she whimpers, digging her fingers into my shoulders as her breasts heave against my chest.
I taste the salt of her skin, more prominent than in my dreams, and I taste it again, sucking on the curve of her neck, licking her collarbone, elated by every noise that comes out of her glorious mouth.
Her skin is like glitter, shining in the dark. Warm and smooth, it slides against my flesh, melting into me.
“Beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful,” I tell her as she vibrates harder, and her eyes blink, trying to focus.
How can she be so perfect?
“Xander,” she whimpers, and my balls tighten.
I thrust into her harder. “I...I...oh…,” she cries out as her walls collapse against my cock and send me into a wonderland of adrenaline.
Gripping her harder, I pump into her forcefully, as she oscillates on top of me in the most beautiful, angelic eruption I’ve ever seen.
I keep my arms wrapped around her, stroking her lower back and ass, entwining my legs with hers as she nuzzles my neck. Breathing hard, I don’t move, wanting to keep her right where she is forever. I’m not sure how many times I kiss the top of her head.
I don’t know what she’s pondering, but I’m full of emotions and, if I open my mouth, I can’t guarantee what will come out. So I stroke her head and continue to shower her with kisses, holding her tight.
The memory of feeding her pancakes while she wore a black silk robe, and screwing on her barstool, flies back to me. It was probably four in the morning, and her stomach growled. She admitted she hadn’t eaten that day, and I cooked for her.
“We need pancakes,” I said to her.
“Pancakes?” She looked at me funny.
I grinned at her. “Yeah, pancakes. You stay in bed, and I’ll make them.”
“You want to make me pancakes?” She looked at me like she didn’t believe me.
I laughed and kissed her then got up, threw a towel around my waist, and headed for the kitchen. She came out in her robe and watched me. When they were ready, I sat down on the barstool and pulled her into my lap then fed her, which then led to sex right where we sat.
The memory is crystal clear, and hope grows inside me that the rest of the holes in my mind will eventually be filled.
Charlotte slowly moves her head out of my neck and looks up at me. I peck her lips. Stroking her cheek, I stare into her eyes. “You okay?”
She smiles and nods. “What are you thinking about?”
“Pancakes.”
She laughs. “You must really like pancakes.”
I grin at her. “I do.”
She laughs.
God, her laugh is sexy and sweet.
“It’s so vivid. It gives me hope.”
She cups my face. “Never lose hope, Xander.”
I know hope is important to her. There was a text conversation about her days in the orphanage and hope. It’s another reminder to me about how special she is. And it makes me want to protect her against the world and anyone who tries to harm her.
“Don’t lose hope in me,” I whisper to her and blink as emotion overcomes me.
I’m a man who can’t remember over a decade of important pieces of his life. And it plays with my mind, making me question who I am and what kind of person. And I think about Charlotte and all she’s already gone through, and then I think about what I’ve put her through and still am, and my soul gets crushed. I struggle with hatred toward myself for hurting her, my inability to remember my own life, and my thoughts and feelings for an ex-flame I’m told I shouldn’t think twice about, when the most beautiful woman on earth is right in front of me.
“Shh.” She puts her finger to my lips. “I won’t. I promise.”
I blink. A tear falls down my cheek, and I turn away from her, ashamed of my inability to have my life together.
She kisses my tear away, and her luscious lips are on mine, pulling me back into the Nirvana that only exists with her.
“Stay the night,” she whispers.
“Yeah? I can?”
“Yeah.” She reclaims my lips as hers, and I realize how alone and empty I’ve felt these last few months, like a piece of my soul has been missing.
Charlotte makes me feel whole again. As messed up as my head is, she still wants me and is putting up with shit she shouldn’t have to deal with. But she is.
I cup her face and pull back from her kiss. “Hey.”
She scans my eyes.
“I have a Scrabble game to beat you at.”
She laughs.
“You have some blankets?”
She tilts her head at me. “Yes. Why?”
“I’ll play in my boxers. Clothing is optional for you, but I’m biased toward your black silk robe.” I wink at her.
Charlotte arches a brow. “Is this your way of trying to distract me?”
“It’s my way of trying to keep you half naked all night, but I won’t have a problem undressing you again when the time comes.”
“Is that all talk or a promise?”
I lick my lips and say, “That’s a promise.”
Wearing hardly any clothes and wrapped up in blankets, we eat cold Chinese food and play Scrabble for hours, creating medical words any average person would find disgusting or not even know is a word.
We’re on our third game, which is the tiebreaker, and Charlotte creates a word worth 167 points.
“You have to be kidding me,” I groan.
She throws her arm in the air. “I win!”
“You’re the master of gore,” I tell her.
She beams.
I laugh. “That’s pretty hot.”
“That’s what you told me the first night you met me.”
I stare at her in question, wishing I could remember meeting her but having no recollection.
“I grossed Vivian and Quinn out when I told you I liked pus more than blood because it’s less predictable.”
“That is hot.”
She smiles at me, lighting up the room, and I wonder how she became the amazing person she is when she had gone through so much as a child.
How could no one have ever loved her, yet she’s still so sweet and kind and loving?
I must star
e at her too long because she nervously asks, “What?”
I crawl over and pull her into my lap. “Tell me about what it was like to grow up in an orphanage.”
She freezes, staring at me, not breathing.
“Sorry. I swear my brain doesn’t work correctly around you. You don’t have to answer that.”
Charlotte lets out a breath. “It’s lonely and sad.”
I stroke her hair and pull her closer. “How old were you when you got there?”
“Three.”
My heart is breaking, and I don’t know why I’m making her tell me this. I can tell it’s painful, but I continue asking her questions.
“What happened?”
“My parents died in a crash, and there wasn’t anyone to take me.”
“I’m sorry.”
She swallows hard then shrugs.
I imagine a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, three-year-old, scared, sad, and lonely. My heart bleeds more for her.
Stroking her cheek, I tell her, “I think you’re amazing.”
She gives me a sad smile, then says, “What about your parents? They were traveling when you had your accident?”
“They’re retired and aren’t in the country often. I’ve seen them a few times since then, but they are somewhere in Europe right now. I lose track where.”
“I already know you don’t have any siblings...”
“No, there’s just me.”
“So who’s been watching you since the accident?”
I laugh. “No one. I can take care of myself.”
She tilts her head at me and scans my eyes. “That sounds lonely.”
My pulse goes up. The guys have been there for me, but it has been lonely...and depressing, too.
Her hands lace together behind my head, and I get this strange sense of déjå vu, but I can’t pinpoint it. “I can’t imagine how hard this has been on you. I’m here if you ever need to talk, Xander.”
A wave of emotion hits me so hard I have to blink tears back, and I turn my head away from her.
“Hey,” she softly says, and I turn back to her. Her hand brushes the side of my head. “Everything will be okay.”
How does she know?
It’s as if she’s tapping into my thoughts, digging into the fear I have that things are never truly going to be okay again. It’s a simple phrase, “everything will be okay,” and I’ve heard it from many people. Somehow, coming from Charlotte, it’s like she actually understands my fears without me even saying them.
