A Hard Man to Forget (23 page)

He moved away briefly to shed the rest of his clothes and cover
himself. It couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, but it
seemed like forever. She felt emptier, colder, when he without him
touching her, without the hard length of his body pressed against
hers. Then he was back, reaching for her, and everything was right
again.

He was completely bare, and now she could feel all of him against her
skin. His erection was hard and insistent against her thigh, the
proof of his arousal unmistakable and thrilling. Only the thin cloth
of her panties kept them apart. She trembled as he reached down and
placed his hand over her mound, feeling her through the fabric. It
was already moist, as damp and sopping as she was inside. He had to
be able to feel the way her body throbbed with desire. Her whole body
pulse with it. She wanted him inside her so badly her hips arched off
the bed, unable to keep still, seeking him. Still, he taunted her,
massaging her gently, feeling her swollen lips through the cloth.
Meanwhile his mouth continued its assault on her body, suckling at
her neck, along her collarbone, until it found her mouth again.

Finally, just when she didn’t think she could take it anymore,
he caught the waistband of her panties in both hands and jerked them
down. The sudden exposure of her mound to the room’s cool air
was a shock. She couldn’t help but gasp at the contrast of the
cold to where she was most hot. It didn’t last long. In the
next instant, she was warm again as he positioned himself over her,
the tip of his erection poised at her opening.

He slid inside with tantalizing, torturous slowness when all she
wanted was to have all of him inside her. She opened herself to him,
taking him inch by inch, the fullness of him in her body gradually
filling the ache inside. A low moan emerged from her throat, but when
it left her lips, it sounded more like a soft sigh, the sound content
and satisfied. When she’d taken all of him and their hips met,
she instinctively wound her legs around his, holding him to her. Her
body clenched around him, drawing him deeper into her. She didn’t
want to lose this feeling. It was too good. It was more than she’d
ever thought possible, being with him. His head fell to the mattress
next to hers. She threaded her fingers through his hair and heard the
breath pour from his lungs. It spoke of the same feeling vibrating
through her. Contentment.

He shifted his hips first, drawing away from her, then coming back
again. She was so wet he slid in and out of her with ease. The rhythm
came naturally, and it only took a few moments for her to catch up,
moving her body in sync with his. Her fingers clung to his shoulders
as he moved above her. He pushed inside her, seeming to fill her more
and more every time. Each thrust pushed her higher, each stroke added
to the delicious tension building inside of her. The sounds of her
moans, her pleasure, filled the air. He was right there with her, his
groans raw, his breath hot against her ear. She could feel the
release coming. It was there in every rigid muscle of his body, in
every response in hers happening too fast to absorb. She tried to
hold on as long as she could, wanting to etch every part of this on
her memory so she’d never lose it, never lose him, again. The
pressure soared higher and higher, until she didn’t think she
could endure anymore.

Then she shattered in a million pieces, the sensation more than she
could ever begin to process. He was right there with her, a guttural
cry ripping itself from deep inside him. It was the most wonderful
thing she’d ever heard. They rode the wave of pleasure
together, and when it was over, he collapsed on top of her.

He was heavy, but in a good way, his weight strong and reassuring.
They were both drenched in sweat and their skin stuck together
wherever it touched. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to hold
him even closer, but she couldn’t seem to find the strength.
She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. So she closed her
eyes and basked in the feel of him on top of her, and inside her
still. It was enough.

But when he started to push himself off of her, she managed to find
her voice.

“Don’t let me go.”

The words came out in a tired wheeze. It didn’t matter. He
still heard them. Wrapping her in his arms, he rolled over, pulling
her with him.

“Never,” he whispered against her ear, and pressed a kiss
against her hair.

There was so much emotion in that one word it sounded like a vow.
Smiling, she closed her eyes and settled against his chest. In that
moment she believed it down to her bones. At last, she knew where she
belonged. No matter what happened, he would never let her go.

SIMON KEPT HER UP most of the night, loving her. Not that she was
exactly fighting him off. Laura couldn’t seem to stop touching
him. She couldn’t get enough of the feel of his long, sinewy
body beside her, above her, beneath her. Inside her.

It was nearly dawn when she finally fell into an exhausted, sated
slumber, Simon’s arms wrapped solidly around her middle. Laura
wasn’t sure how long she slept. The hazy light peeking through
her bedroom curtains told her it was still morning, still relatively
early. She was alone.

Frowning, she sat up in bed, clutching the sheets to her chest. No
sounds penetrated the silence of the apartment. She glanced around
the room. His clothes were gone.

Feeling strangely abandoned, Laura called out tentatively, “Simon?”

Nothing.

Before she had time to convince herself of the worst, she heard the
front door swing open and the sound of someone whistling. A few
moments later, Simon appeared in the doorway, a grocery bag cradled
in one arm.

He beamed down at her, his expression more open and cheerful than
she’d ever seen him before. He looked like a different person.
Her response was the same.

Memories of last night, and this morning, filled her mind

Oh, yes. Definitely the same.

“Good morning,” he said. “I didn’t expect you
to be up.”

“I just woke up,” Laura said, relief flooding her.

He looked at her strangely. “Something wrong?”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “Not at all.” She
wasn’t about to explain her sudden panic, the ridiculous fear
that she’d lost him just as soon as she’d found him.
There was no rational explanation for the sudden panic, and of course
she had no cause for alarm. He was here. Everything was fine.

Mollified, he bent down and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Laura
captured his face in both her hands. Dampness from his hair sprinkled
down on her.

Squealing, she pushed him away. “You’re wet.”

“It’s still raining. I went out to get you something.”
With a mischievous grin, he reached for the bag.

“What is it?”

“Impatient, are we?” He pulled an item from the bag and
held it in front of her. “Well?”

It took her a second to understand what she was looking at. A sudden
chill crept along her nerve endings. She blinked at the object in his
hand, positive her eyes were mistaking her. It didn’t help. The
image didn’t go away.

“Strawberries,” Simon said when she didn’t respond.
“Your favorite.”

Laura didn’t know what to say. She could only stare at the
container of fruit in Simon’s hand, unable to fight back the
wave of horror rising up within her. She didn’t understand what
this meant, didn’t want to understand. Everything that had been
so perfect a moment ago was now so very wrong.

“Meredith? Laura?” Simon said urgently. Dropping the
plastic container on the bed, he gripped her shoulders. “What
is it? What’s wrong?”

Somehow she forced out the words.

“I’m allergic to strawberries.”

Simon frowned down at her. “I don’t understand. I’ve
seen you eat them plenty of times. You devoured them.”

“I couldn’t have. I’m deathly allergic to them. I
ate one last year without realizing the danger and went into shock.”

She opened her eyes and started straight into the blank confusion in
his. “Whoever you saw eating them wasn’t me.”

Simon heard the words. She might as well have been speaking gibberish
for all the sense they made. Strawberries were her favorite. He would
know. He’d fed them to her in bed the first morning of their
honeymoon. That was one reason he’d gone out for them this
morning, searching three different stores until he found berries
fresh enough. When he’d woken that morning, he’d
immediately remembered that long ago morning and wanted to do
something special for her.

Then the meaning of her words slowly sank in.

Everything in him went cold and still. He couldn’t even feel
his heart beating. He wasn’t sure it was.

The eyes that stared back at him were filled with agony. A stranger’s
eyes?

No. Every part of him rebelled at the thought. The idea that
everything he’d believed could be wrong—again. No. It
wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

But what he saw in her eyes—the devastation, the agony—the
same emotions he felt roiling in the pit of his stomach, told him it
was true.

She wasn’t Meredith. She was a stranger.

“I don’t suppose that’s the kind of thing that can
be developed over time?” he tried weakly.

Her smile was pained and brief. “I don’t think so.”

Reeling from the shock, it was all he could do to stay on his feet.
He almost sank onto the bed. Only his last shreds of
self-preservation held him back. He couldn’t take being that
close to her. Not after everything they’d shared. Not now.

It was hard to believe that just minutes ago he’d been happier
than he could ever remember being in his life. Even happier than he’d
been with Meredith. Last night this woman had returned his passion
with a fervor that surprised and excited him, never flinching from
what he had to give her, offering him just as much in return. He felt
more fulfilled and content than he ever had before. It was new and
exciting, and once it was over, he only wanted her more.

In the back of his mind, he’d lumped this change with all of
the others in her personality. Her newfound strength. Her confidence.
They all had to be a result of the ordeal she’d been through,
the life she’d led apart from him these last few years.

Now he knew better. For all he knew they weren’t changes in her
personality. She might have always been like this, even before the
attack that stole her of her memory.

She wasn’t Meredith.

The worst part was, he wanted her still. Standing there, looking down
at her, he only wanted to go to her, to wipe away the confused,
unshed tears glimmering in her eyes. To pull her to him and hold her
close. To kiss those swollen lips and tug away the sheet—

He shook himself. He wasn’t thinking clearly. She wasn’t
Meredith. This was all wrong.

He had to get away. He had to think.

Simon took a step back. “I should go.”

He saw her eyes flare in surprise. He steeled himself against the
pang of guilt caused by the pain he saw there.

He tried to explain. “I need some time to think about this,
about what it means—”

She nodded stiffly. “I guess we both need time to think things
over.”

Nodding shortly, he moved to the door. He stopped there, but didn’t
turn around. He couldn’t let himself look back, couldn’t
look at her. She affected him too greatly. He couldn’t make
sense of this with her clouding his thoughts, muddying his emotions.

“I’ll...call you.” He winced. Did that sound as
much like a lie to her as it did to him?

“All right,” she said softly.

Lowering his head, he stepped out of the bedroom. Distance didn’t
remove the pain pressing down on his chest. A million questions
buzzed unrelentingly in his head, but no answers.

All he could think was that he’d made love to this woman, while
he was still married to another.

And the one he wanted was the one he’d just left behind.

LAURA WAITED UNTIL she heard the click of the outer door before
sagging back against the mattress and burying her face in her pillow.
Silent tears streamed down her face.

How could everything that had been so right just minutes ago become
so wrong in such a short amount of time?

The peace of the last few days was replaced by the confusion of the
last two years. All the questions were back, all the uncertainty, now
only compounded by everything that had happened with Simon.

She loved him. That was the only thing she knew for sure. The
rightness of it filled her with a sense of calm.

The feeling was short lived. Because whatever she felt for him, he
was in love with another woman. Meredith. The woman he’d
believed her to be.

Laura almost couldn’t breathe past the sudden tightness in her
chest. He wasn’t in love with her. He was in love with
Meredith, the wife he’d never stopped loving, never given up
on, even after everything he’d thought her guilty of.

For all they knew, she was still out there. Maybe still with the man
she’d left with.

For a while, Laura could only lie there, numb from the loss of Simon
and the loss of her life—again. Now she knew what Simon had
meant by not wanting to love her, believing it would be too hard to
lose her again. She’s lost her life for the second time, and
that brief flirtation with a past, with someone who loved her and
people who knew and cared about her, made this loss so much harder to
take. This time she was left with the memories, memories of a life
she’d briefly owned, then had taken away. It wasn’t her
past. It wasn’t her life. Simon wasn’t hers. And knowing
that they were there, discarded by another woman who hadn’t
wanted them, while she had nothing, made the loss that much more
bitter.

She couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with anger toward
Meredith. How could she have walked away from all of that? Hadn’t
she known how much she had? The woman had to have been crazy after
all.