He kissed her ring finger just below the wedding band set. The feel of his lips on her skin incited awareness. Promised pleasure. And yes, added to her fears about where all this was heading.
She worried about the board meeting. Her memory. Their future. But for now…she could savor this moment with him. This one thing they had that had always been perfect.
“You said you wanted us to start over.” She remembered that night so clearly. His invitation had mesmerized her into an explosive kiss. “That you wanted us to be a couple again.”
“I do.” His fingers aligned with hers before he pivoted his palm a few degrees, bending his fingers into the spaces between hers. An act suddenly intimate.
He stole her breath.
She had to lick her lips to speak again, her mouth gone dry. “Then I think it’s time we lived up to those words.”
CHAPTER TEN
There had been a time in his relationship with Caroline where those words would have scorched Damon’s skin, launching a blistering encounter against the back of a door, the top of a desk, or anywhere else they happened to be. They’d spent weeks on their honeymoon indulging every erotic impulse, driving each other crazy over expensive dinners, only to race back to the hotel before dessert so they could peel one another’s clothes off.
But he couldn’t afford to let that instinct take over quite yet. Not when his future—his family—hung in the balance of this marriage.
“What about your health?” He hadn’t talked to her about her visits with the obstetrician. They’d spoken about the amnesia. About Lucas’s well-being after the way Caroline had been drugged while pregnant. “Are you sure it’s safe for you? So soon after giving birth?”
He had to grit out the words, doing his damnedest to ignore the blaze of heat climbing his back, the need for her stronger than ever after so long apart.
“My doctor in Vancouver said I could resume all normal activity.” She walked her fingers up his forearm, a teasing invitation to touch her that worked so well he felt the first hint of sweat bead along his shoulders.
“How can you be certain that means—”
“I asked,” she interrupted, a sure sign she was feeling the effects of holding back every bit as much as him. “Point blank.”
Her gaze dipped to his mouth.
Yeah. Game over.
He speared a hand through her long, silky hair, angling her head for his kiss. Her quick intake of air caused her breasts to brush against his chest, that sexy gasp of surprise only fueling his fire.
She tasted like marshmallow and strawberries, her lips soft and yielding. The kiss sealed them, drawing her body closer to wrap all over his. He didn’t know if he did that, or if somehow she did, but the blanket fell away as her breasts pressed to his chest, the subtle curves molding against him. Even through their two tees and her bra, he could feel the tight points of her response, which echoed the same fiery desire that had been riding him for days.
Consumed with the need to see her, feel her, he broke the kiss enough to scrape aside the cotton V-neck, to shove away the lace of the bra enough to taste one rosy-pink peak.
Her fingers curved along his shoulders, scraping lightly as her head fell back. Her spine arched, giving him more access, her throaty moan vibrating on a sizzling frequency he could feel like a physical stroke up his sex.
He unclasped the hook in the front, freeing more of her. With impatient hands, he skimmed the clothes up and off of her, baring her to his view in the firelight. One tousled strand of honey-gold hair curled down her neck to land between her breasts. Her body was different—the curves fuller, the tips darker—than he remembered. And even more tempting.
With that visual reminder, he took a deep breath. Told himself to be careful with her no matter how much they both wanted this.
“Let me take you to bed.” He slipped one arm beneath her and another around her shoulders. “We should go slow. And you should be comfortable.”
He said it to himself as much as her. A stern reminder to the possessive hormones urging him for more. Now. Faster.
For her, he would shut that voice up.
“I dreamed of you all the time.” She whispered the words while he cradled her against his chest, scooping up her phone to bring with them before carrying her from the sitting room to the sleeping area of the suite. “Before they drugged me too much to remember. I dreamed about you holding me, just like this.”
She rubbed her cheek against him, her eyes closing in a sweep of dark lashes. He hated that he hadn’t been there for her when she needed him. When she’d been frightened, and alone, and expecting his baby.
He kissed the top of her head, pausing at the edge of the king-size poster bed. Holding her steady, he used two fingers to sweep back the snowy white duvet and lay her on the sheets, resting her head on the thick down pillow. He tugged off his shirt and his dark denim pants before sliding into bed beside her.