It had been hours since he’d had a drink, since alcohol had burned through his bloodstream. But sitting in the darkness watching her, he felt the same potent sensation. The moonlight through the window caught the locks of her hair, making it shine soft and silky. It made her look more like an angel than a flesh-and-blood woman, more like someone from a dream or a fairy tale.
Only she was real, she was flesh and blood. The faint outline of her bare breasts and slim shoulders against the thin fabric of his old T-shirt made that very clear. She wasn’t an illusion. She was the woman he loved, the woman he wanted.
“Better. Yes, better. Much, much better. ”
Her soft words surprised him, and for a moment he thought she was talking to him, that she had become aware of his presence and was addressing him. But she had no idea he was there. The shadows of the dark corner had obscured him from her view completely.
He figured the wise thing would be to just sit there and let her pass him again, let her walk back to her bedroom alone and shut the door behind her. Except he wasn’t feeling very wise tonight. He was feeling lost, miserable, and he couldn’t just let her walk away.
“Kelsey?”
The sudden sound of his voice out of the silence made her jump violently, the plastic bottle of water slipping from her hand and falling clumsily into the sink.
“C-Coop,” she stammered, spinning around and finding his shadowy silhouette in the murkiness of the breakfast nook. “You ... you scared me to death.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning back in the chair.
“How long have you been sitting there?” she asked, straining to see him in the darkness.
“An hour,” he said with a careless shrug of his shoulder. “Maybe two—I don’t know.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, unnerved to think how close he’d been all this time. “I—I thought you’d gone to bed.”
He shook his head. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Her gaze narrowed, and she forgot about being angry for a moment. “Are you...all right?”
“You mean am I drunk?” He breathed out a cheerless laugh. “No.”
“I, uh, came out for the aspirin,” she said, lifting up the small bottle she still held in her hand.
“Headache?”
She nodded. “Yeah. You?”
“Oh, yeah—a killer.”
It made her self-conscious that he could see her, but she couldn’t see him. “Want some?”
“No, thanks. I gave up on aspirin hours ago.”
She couldn’t tell if he was looking at her or somewhere else, and it made her uncomfortable. “You had a lot to drink.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, watching how her breasts pressed tight against the T-shirt with every breath she took. “Too much.”
“Is...everything all right? I mean, it isn’t like you to drink like that—at least, not that I can remember.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. The T-shirt just barely covered her torso, and with the cast gone, her legs looked long and smooth and seemed to go on forever. “I haven’t become a drunk, if that’s what you mean.”
“It crossed my mind,” she admitted, sensing his movements in the darkness even though she couldn’t see exactly what they were. She pushed herself away from the counter, taking several hesitant steps across the cool tiled floor toward him. “After all, I’ve forgotten a lot.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, watching her move and feeling his blood start to heat. “A lot.”
“Maybe...” She hesitated only briefly. “Maybe we should talk about some of those things I’ve forgotten.”
“And maybe you should just go back to bed.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Go to bed, Kelsey,” he said again. “Just get out.”
She stopped. “Is that what you want?”
“What I want?” He slowly leaned forward in the chair. “What I want doesn’t matter.”
She could see him better now, sitting in the dark corner with his shirt off and his feet bare. His face looked pale and gaunt, and his eyes had a raw, hungry look. Something stirred in her, knotting in her stomach and radiating like an ember giving off heat. “It matters to me.”
He looked at her. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what, care about you? Love you?” She shook her head again. “Too late, Coop—I already do. You’re my husband. I love you.”
“Husband.” He snorted, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m some kind of husband, all right.”
His voice sounded different, strained and tense, and she heard something so sad, so wounded in it. “Coop, what is it? What aren’t you telling me? What’s happening here?”
“Nothing,” he insisted, slamming his fist on the table and glaring at her. “Nothing is happening here—and nothing can happen here.”
His violent reaction made her stagger, shocked and surprised.
“I—I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I don’t understand any of this. All you’ve done for weeks now is push me away. If something’s wrong, Coop, just tell me. Tell me, because it couldn’t make me feel any worse than I do right now.”
“Kelsey, please,” he pleaded, the pain in her voice tearing at his insides. How did he make her understand when he didn’t understand himself? How could he explain that he wanted to do the right thing—even if none of this seemed right? How could anything be right when it hurt her so much? “Just go to bed.”
“What is it?” she demanded, her lip quivering and tears glittering in her eyes. “What is it you’re not telling me? What is it you think you’re protecting me from?”
“You want to know?” he growled, the hurt and the fear on her face and in her voice causing something to snap in him. He stood, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to him. “I’m protecting you from this.” He crushed his body tightly against hers. “From me.”
He found her lips and ravaged them, kissing her with all the emotion, all the longing and desire that had been building in him for weeks. Her taste invaded him, entering his blood, torching it until heat exploded through him like a brushfire out of control.
This was right, the two of them together, Coop and Kelsey, husband and wife. Not making up excuses, not living a charade, not cruelly rejecting her over and over again. It was what she wanted and what he was ready to die to have.
All he wanted was to love her. How could that be wrong?
“Kelsey,” he gasped. Her name sounded sweet to his ears, as sweet and as pure as it tasted in his mouth. “God forgive me, Kelsey, I want you. I can’t help myself.”
Even as he captured her mouth again, even as he felt her hands clawing to get at. him and the soft groans escape from her throat, he knew God would forgive him—he just wasn’t sure she ever would.
Kelsey heard the need in his voice, felt his hard, strong body pressing against her, and a fireball replaced the knot in her stomach, twisting tight. This was what she wanted, what she needed—to feel him in her arms, to feel his need and to know he wanted her. If there were problems she’d forgotten, they didn’t matter now. She still had Coop. Still had his passion, his fire, and most important, she still had his heart.
“I want you, too,” she murmured against his lips, her hands moving around his waist and slipping beneath the fabric of his jeans. “I want you, too.”
The feel of her hands at his sides and along the swell of his bottom made rational thought drain from his brain and hunger gnaw at his soul. He gave the civilized, thinking part of himself over to the primal being that shared his skin, the primitive, feral creature whose only purpose was to appease his appetites.
He pulled her closer, his hands wild in an effort to touch and caress. He found the end of the T-shirt, caught it and pulled it from her in one smooth motion. He found the waist of her panties and tore them free, leaving her bare and exposed before him.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice raw and ti
ght in his throat. “So beautiful.”
At the sight of her, the air stalled in his lungs, and his heart lurched violently in his chest. He took one moment—one brief, fleeting moment for reverence, for wonder, for admiration—but only that. He couldn’t deny himself any longer. Desire pounded in his brain. There wasn’t time for slow, careful exploration—not with the fire in him burning out of control.
He pulled her to him, bringing them body to body, flesh to flesh. He ravished her willing lips, heard a soft groan reverberate through him, not knowing if it came from his throat or hers. He lifted her up, trailing a path of wet kisses from her lips to her neck, then to the gentle swell of her breasts. She tasted warm and rich—like life and love and woman, and he paid tribute to her beauty with all he had.
Kelsey closed her eyes, giving in to his wild passion and feeling herself become wild, as well. His hands on her felt like fire, igniting her blood and sending it racing through her veins. They had been man and wife for years, had made love countless times before, but she felt as desperate, as hungry as if they’d been apart for years.
“Coop,” she groaned, her voice sounding coarse and husky to her ears.
His lips on her breasts were driving her crazy. Tension coiled in her belly, and her legs trembled beneath her. She felt the hot, potent blasts of his breath against her skin, felt the strength and the power in the arms that held her. He was her anchor, her mainstay. She wanted to lose herself in his passion and find herself alive beneath his touch.
Her hands slid down, finding him hard inside his jeans. She tugged at the buttons until they finally gave way, opening the fly and freeing him to her unrestrained touch.
“I love you, Coop,” she whispered, feeling the strength and the power of him. “I love you.”
Coop moaned, the sound rising from his soul. What burned in his blood was hotter than fire, more blistering than desire—it was a maelstrom of emotion, encompassing all he wanted, all that was his, all he would ever need.
He half-dragged, half-carried her down the hallway, starting for the master bedroom that had once been theirs to share. But catching a glimpse of the double doors, he suddenly thought of the narrow hospital bed that waited inside, of the hard metal bars and adjustable controls. He wasn’t going to make love to her on that—an ugly, institutional-looking hospital bed that only reminded him of the lie he’d been living.
Stopping suddenly, he swept her up in his arms, kicked open the door to the room he’d been using and carried her inside. Maybe there was a poetic justice in all of this, that they should make love there, on the low-lying futon bed where he had spent so many nights alone, knowing how close she was yet not being able to show her how much he cared.
He was touching her now. Like something out of a dream, he was holding her and kissing her and feeling her heat. Moving with her as he lowered her onto the bed, he was aware there would be a price to pay. But feeling her beneath him, hearing her soft groans of arousal and finding her moist and ready for him, there was only one truth that mattered. They were meant to be together. For a moment or for a lifetime, they were man and wife.
Kelsey felt the hard firmness of the futon along her back, felt the solid weight of his body pressing her against it. Anticipation surged in her belly, causing tension to build and the fireball inside her to burn white-hot. She had to have him, had to make him a part of her or she was going to die from the need. She’d survived a building collapsing, survived the forces of nature, but she wasn’t going to make it without his love.
And then he was there, moving over her, bringing his body close, pushing deep. Everything within her reacted when he pressed into her—heart, soul, mind, body. There was a moment, one brilliant, clarifying moment when all she could do was lie there in wonder, but that was only a moment. After that there was only need, and yearning, and a desire that blocked out everything else.
Had it always been like this when they’d made love, the mindless need, the wild abandon? Because that’s how she felt, mindless and wild, unaware of anything except the man in her arms and the hunger that clawed at her. She was ready to burst, grasping at him like a lifeline. She had forgotten a lot since the accident, but could she have forgotten this? Could she have forgotten what it was to be with him, to be filled by him, to be made desperate from the pleasure?
Suddenly the coil inside her snapped, and the fireball burst free, shattering apart in a brilliant explosion of light, sound and action. Every muscle in her body convulsed, hurling her past the boundaries of pleasure, past the confines of satisfaction and gratification. Clinging to him, she held on for dear life, letting his strong, powerful movements carry her over the edges of madness to the outer limits of peace.
Chapter 11
Coop felt her nails bite into his back, felt her body grow rigid and her muscles contract. He felt the rapture seize her and carry her away. Her soft groans filled his senses. Her short, rapid breaths blew energy into him. He felt empowered, invincible.
Following the path she blazoned, sharing her pleasure and experiencing her ecstasy, caused the fragile hold on his control to slip. He was, after all, just a man.
The climax began with a shower of lights, filling his head and blocking out everything else. There was no-earth, no sky, no outside world. He was alone with only Kelsey beneath him and the life flowing between them like electricity through a wire. He felt his body surge forward, hurling him into that void, into that secret place where sanity blended with madness, reason with awareness.
“I love you.”
He heard the words, felt them circle his consciousness like a halo of light. He couldn’t tell if he’d said them or if they had come from her—but it didn’t matter. What was important, what mattered was love, and it was there between them.
Finally, the agony became too sweet and he surrendered, body and soul. He found what he’d been seeking, reclaimed what he’d once lost, and the pleasure proved to be the finest he’d ever known.
Kelsey heard his ragged breathing, felt his hard body erupt and his arms clutch her tight. She grabbed him, held him and let him sweep her away again. She crested, peak after peak, until, riding one wave after another, she was sure she would go mad from the pleasure. It was only when she heard him cry out, when she felt him collapse, spent, against her that she found her way back.
“I love you,” he said in a breathless whisper in her ear.
I love you, too. The words formed on her lips, but she had no strength left to push them out.
Coop wasn’t sure how long they lay there together, locked in each other’s arms. It could have been an hour or it could have been days. Time had lost its importance.
It wasn’t until he felt her shiver that he realized the night had turned cold. He moved then, but just enough to reach for the bed covers and pull them over their cold bodies.
“Better?” he asked, gathering her close. The room was full of shadows, but enough moonlight found its way in through the window so he could see her face in the darkness.
“Nothing could be better than this,” she murmured sleepily, squinting at him through slitted lids.
He brought his hand up and ran his knuckles along the softness of her cheek. She looked so beautiful, content and fulfilled. He had no doubt she had wanted to make love with him, but the fact remained that she still believed him to be her husband. If she had remembered the truth, this never would have happened.
Like an invader storming the gates of a fortress, guilt nagged at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret making love with Kelsey. Not with her looking beautiful and satisfied.
“I can think of something,” he whispered, bending down and pressing a kiss against her mouth.
“Oh?”
“This,” he murmured, planting wet kisses along her jaw, down her neck and over her breasts. “And this,” he whispered as he trailed a path of kisses along her waist, into her belly button and over the swell of her hips.
Kelsey would never know where the energy came from,
but it flooded her depleted system, revitalizing spent muscles and weary nerve endings. His bold caresses had her peaking again and again, sending her over the edge and into that chasm of lights. When he entered her again, she could do nothing but cling to him as they rode the wave together, journeying farther and faster than before.
Finally, she gave in to the exhaustion, feeling his heavy body above her and reveling in its weight. Her sleep was deep and peaceful, and her dreams—for the first time since the coma—were sweet.
“Eight, nine, ten, eleven.” Kelsey stopped, a chill rumbling through her. The damp fog that had rolled inland and shrouded the dawn in a blanket of white had sent the temperatures dropping, and the sheet she held over her naked body offered little protection. “Twelve, thirteen.” Her voice quivered, and the tiled kitchen floor felt like ice against her bare feet. Another chill caused her finger to tremble as it counted the days on the calendar.
Except she was too excited to think about the cold, was concentrating too hard on counting the days of the week to worry about her numb toes. Besides, Coop was in the bedroom asleep. He would be warm and would wrap his arms around her tight when she crawled into the bed beside him. His body heat would take the morning chill from her.
“Fourteen.” She stopped and stared at the calendar, hearing only the soft, mechanical ticking of the kitchen clock hanging on the wall above the stove and the sound of her breath as it entered and exited her lungs.
There could be no mistake. She’d counted it out three times. It had to be right.
Still, she had to be sure, didn’t want to take the chance that in her haste she might have gotten careless, might have skipped over something and made a mistake. This was too important. Too much was at stake. She wanted to be absolutely sure. Flipping through the pages of the calendar, she counted it out again.
Mind Over Marriage Page 15
