Unforgettable

by Ann Christopher

  His mouth came back, licking deep into hers.

  She opened for him...rose on her tiptoes...nipped and sucked his ripe mouth...Surged into him until the effort to keep him close and touch him without touching made her wobble.

  “Easy,” he said, sliding a hand around her waist to anchor her.

  But he locked his muscles, keeping her at arm’s length.

  “I need you inside me,” she whispered between kisses, the blindfold making pride unnecessary. “I have to touch you, Daniel.”

  “Not yet. Finish what I told you to do.”

  She rubbed herself, gliding her fingers through her juices, over and over again in the exact rhythm her body required. Need spiraled lower and coiled tighter. His mouth went to the side of her neck, where he grazed it with his teeth.

  “Daniel,” she said, panting. “I need you.”

  He kissed her again, slowly slipping his tongue into her mouth. It was the most erotic moment of her life. Her nudity versus his clothed and unreachable body... her blindfolded vulnerability versus his relentless control... the purity of all her sensations... his voice, his scent... all of it conspired to wring every last drop of pleasure out of her. With a sharp, shameless cry, she tumbled over the edge into pure, piercing sensation. Her body spasmed, causing her to bend at the waist, and her knees would have given way and sent her to the floor but for his support.

  He didn’t give her a chance to recover. The next thing she knew, he was sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her like the limp rag doll he’d turned her into. He held her tight, cradling her like a baby with her arms around his neck, and they moved quickly through the apartment. The feeling of his hands on her—the pressure of that strong body rubbing up against hers, the tenderness in the way he nuzzled her cheek—was an unspeakable relief.

  It didn’t last long.

  They turned into his bedroom, where he deposited her on the cool sheets. She reached for the blindfold, anxious to sweep it over her head—

  “Not so fast.”

  The blindfold stayed on as he raised her arm over her head and she belatedly remembered her sash and his promise. She stiffened.

  “It’s okay.” He was right there, leaning down to tongue her ear—she mewled helplessly—before whispering in it. “Trust me.”

  Those words, coming from him, warranted a knee to the groin at the very least. Instead, she lay back and stretched out, eagerly submitting to his domination as he tied first one wrist, then the other, to the headboard.

  Then he slipped away.

  She waited, feeling raw and exposed, but nothing happened for so long that she began to wonder if he’d left her there as part of some grand scheme for revenge.

  She twisted, testing the restraints. On the one hand, they didn’t feel too tight, but on the other hand, she damn sure couldn’t move.

  “Daniel?”

  His warm hand slid up the inside of her thigh and stopped just short of her wet sex, making her writhe. Then he squeezed her thigh, his fingertips just barely brushing that most sensitive part of her, and she nearly blew apart again.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, and she’d have given everything she owned to snatch off the blindfold and see if the look on his face matched the reverence in his tone. He laughed shakily. “Half the time, you’re all I see. The rest of the time, I’m wishing I never laid eyes on you.”

  She wouldn’t have thought that he’d left her with enough of her heart intact to feel this kind of fresh pain, but she was wrong. How many different times and ways was this one man going to hurt her? How long would she continue to let him?

  “You have to stop stabbing me in the heart,” she said. “I can’t take it.”

  “I don’t have to do anything.” There was a new coldness in his voice now, or maybe it was the same old coldness. “Except fuck you.”

  With that, she heard the rattle of his nightstand drawer. The crinkle of a foil wrapper as he rolled on a condom. Then the edge of the bed dipped with his weight. Shivering with excitement, she planted her feet on the bed and spread her thighs for him.

  “You want it, don’t you, Kitten?”

  In that uninhibited moment, she was so far outside herself that she didn’t even care about the masculine smugness on his voice.

  “You know I do.”

  He loomed over her, settling in the cradle of her hips.

  “Daniel…”

  Leaving her no time to brace herself, he thrust inside her, hard and deep. A guttural noise—raw male triumph, sounded like—rumbled in his chest. She arched into him, her throat producing a joyous sound somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. The orgasm of five minutes ago was already forgotten, a distant memory. That was what Daniel did to her. He stretched her beyond endurance, until she teetered on the sweet edge of pain. He unerringly angled his hips the exact right way to rub against her sweet spot with each well-timed swivel. He used her own body as a weapon against her.

  Levering up on his hands so that none of his weight rested on her, he began to thrust, long and slow. She rose to meet him, wrapping her legs around his waist—

  “Huh-uh.” He pushed her legs back down on the bed where he wanted them, her knees falling open to the sides. “You don’t touch me.”

  “You’re making me crazy,” she said. “I need to touch you.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said, and he was right.

  Because when he began to move, there was nowhere for her to go, nothing to think about and precious little for her to do other than meet his thrusts. Like he’d promised, there were no judgments between them in the dark. She didn’t need to gauge his reactions to anything she did. The only things life required of her at this moment?

  Surrender. Ecstasy.

  It didn’t take her long to come again with Daniel. It never had. And when she did, all the pleasure concentrated between her thighs seemed to splinter, sending electrical bolts of sensation to every far corner of her body. Even her toes curled.

  Her cries sounded breathless. Strangled. Primitive.

  So did his.

  The aftershocks went on forever, radiating little impulses throughout her belly and making her spasm. Maybe she even blacked out for a moment; she certainly enjoyed a few seconds of blissful nothingness.

  Then it was over and reality intruded just as her body began to cool. All her thoughts came back, crowding into her head like circus clowns in a VW Beetle.

  Oh, God.

  What now?

  How was she going to face Daniel?

  What would he think of her after that?

  And, as always, the mantra to which her brain defaulted every time she did something the least bit questionable—the vaguely reproachful soundtrack to which she lived her life:

  Be a good girl, Zoya. Do the right thing.

  Engaging in light BDSM with the guy who’d broken your heart probably didn’t qualify.

  She stiffened, pulling against the sash, but Daniel was already there, untying her. With her hands free, she snatched off the blindfold. Big mistake. She discovered, to her dismay, that he was still right there beside her, and there was enough moonlight filtering through the blinds to illuminate his face and unfathomable expression. Not that she had any intention of looking at it right now.

  “You have to work early,” she said, her face on fire, turning away as she pushed herself up. “I have to go.”

  “No.” In a gesture of heartbreaking tenderness, he also sat up, wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a lingering kiss to her shoulder. Like magic, all her sudden tension melted away. “You don’t.”

  Something came over her. Maybe the intensity of the orgasms short-circuited a couple of the crucial connections in her brain, or maybe the sound of Yo-Yo Ma’s cello defrosted some of the ice around her heart.

  Maybe it was the sudden realization that if she could make her body that vulnerable with Daniel, it might not kill her to open up—just a bit—emotionally as well.

  She hesitated, turning back to face h
im. The lines of his face seemed relaxed, but there was a wary intensity in his eyes that made her wonder if it was possible—and how crazy was this thought? —that this reunion of theirs, such as it was, shook him as much as it shook her.

  “I don’t know what happens when you touch me,” she admitted helplessly. “I don’t know how we got here when I used to love you so much. I don’t know what to say to you.”

  A warm light flickered on in his eyes, which turned up at the corners. It wasn’t a smile—not even close—but at least his entire being wasn’t focused on hating her right now.

  She’d happily take that.

  “We’re not going to get it figured out tonight.” He opened his arms to her. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  The automatic no was on the tip of her tongue.

  The yes in her heart was stronger.

  It wasn’t easy; not with her flight instinct still raring to go. But the bed was so inviting and Daniel’s arms were so strong.

  Besides.

  What was waiting for her back in her apartment other than the renewed longing to be right where she was now?

  After a moment’s hesitation, she slid back into the bed, where he immediately spooned her up. His body was so hard. So warm. And the fingers that smoothed her hair back from her temple and ran down to her nape, rhythmically stroking her the way he would a cat, were so amazingly gentle.

  Sighing, she relaxed into him and drifted off to sleep with the sounds of his breathing and Yo-Yo Ma’s cello in her ears, and the steady thump of his heartbeat against her back.

  When she woke in the morning, it was to the delicious scent of a steaming mug of coffee on the nightstand (with plenty of cream and sweetener—fourteen years later, and he still remembered!) and the quiet click of his front door as he left.

  Loneliness—and doubt—slipped in to take his place beside her.

  What was she doing?

  Where in God’s name did she think this was going?

  Why was it getting so hard to remember that this man could not be trusted? Why did she keep forgetting that he’d walked out on her when she’d needed him the most?

  Sighing, her body deliciously sore, she threw back the covers and started to get up. That was when she noticed her robe draped across the end of the bed.

  Daniel.

  He’d always been thoughtful. Like the time he’d met her after class with an umbrella, because he didn’t want her to get drenched walking home. Or the Valentine’s Day when he’d given her a music box that played Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, one of her favorite pieces for quartets. Smiling to herself, she reached for the robe—the sash was back where it belonged, running through the belt loops—and that was when she heard a quiet clink.

  What the—?

  She stuck her hand in the pocket and pulled out...Daniel’s key on its little ring.

  Chapter 13

  Harper Rose Vineyard and Winery.

  Daniel’s new home turf.

  He stood at the edge of the drive, with the main buildings and the path through the vines at his back and the river in front of him, carving its way through the valley down below. The sun was just beginning to think about rising, with vague pink streaks on the horizon. Pink. So they’d have to look out for rain today. He tipped his head back, breathing deep. Yeah, he could smell it in the chilly air.

  He could also smell something much more worrisome. Kicking up some soil with the toe of his hiking boot, he squatted and picked up a handful. Gave it a good sniff. Ah, shit. Mildew, just as he’d suspected. Not a full-blown case just yet, but it was brewing.

  They’d have to get on top of that ASAP.

  He let the soil sift through his fingers, dusted off his hands and checked his watch. His dad would be there any second. In ye olden days, he would have arrived already, showing up ten minutes early just for the pleasure of telling Daniel he was late, but the heart attack three months ago had allegedly slowed him down a little, so maybe this was a sign of that.

  The Dictator would be here soon enough. In the meantime, Daniel would take all the peaceful predawn time he could get. All the better to think about the incredible night he’d just spent with Zoya.

  He walked over to the winery and tasting room’s porch and sat on one of the Adirondack chairs, his skin heating as he remembered the most pertinent details:

  The way she’d shown up for a second night in a row, giving him the hope that she couldn’t stay away from him any more than he could stay away from her;

  The smell of her skin;

  The urgent rise of her body beneath his;

  The velvety feel of her mouth;

  The sweetest, hottest pussy in the world.

  He shuddered, his skin and dick tightening with renewed lust.

  The thing was, the physical shit wasn’t even the half of it. They had explosive sex. That had never changed since the time they were twenty-two and probably never would change. The thing that stayed front and center in his mind was the vulnerability she’d shown him last night. The way she’d trusted him to blindfold and tie her up. The way she looked at him when she heard the music playing, or when she confessed that she didn’t know how they’d gotten to this painful place in their relationship.

  The way she’d fallen asleep in his arms and stayed with him all through the night.

  Something had shifted between them last night.

  They’d experienced a breakthrough. A breakthrough to what, he couldn’t say, but they’d definitely had a breakthrough.

  Hadn’t they?

  There’d been less anger. More talking.

  Not real talking, mind you, and certainly not about the issues at the heart of their mutual anger. Still, for the first time he felt like real talking might be possible.

  If they could talk, couldn’t they heal?

  He leaned back, tipping his head up to the sky. Maybe the fresh fall air and damp smell of the earth were doing a number on his brain, but his spirit suddenly felt alight with possibilities.

  Today was a fresh start with his career and he felt hopeful that he and his father could open a new and improved chapter in their relations. He and the Dictator—his father; stop calling him the Dictator, Harper—had the chance to forge a detente today. If things worked out okay, wouldn’t an outright peace treaty be possible?

  Daniel, for one, had had more than enough of the aggression and Cold War with his father. For the first time in his life, he possessed that crucial element for getting along with his father: the willingness to rein in his temper and really try. Daniel could change, right? He wasn’t exactly reaching for Jupiter here. And if he and his father could begin anew, why couldn’t he and Zoya do the same thing?

  Maybe now was the time...

  He pulled out his phone, hesitated, then decided, yeah, screw it. Be a man, Harper. Take a chance. What’ve you got to lose?

  Ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest, he typed her a message:

  Hey. Want to grab lunch at Java Nectar?

  After another hesitation—how did this one woman repeatedly turn him into the world’s biggest bundle of raw nerves? —he sent it just as a car turned into the drive with a blaze of headlights and the crunch of gravel.

  The Dicta—his father.

  Daniel quickly stood and shoved the phone into his back pocket.

  Nigel parked and got out.

  To Daniel’s surprise, Sean got out the other side.

  “What’s up, fellas?” Daniel shook his father’s hand. “How’re you doing, Pops?”

  Nigel grinned and made a show of checking his watch. “Well, you’re not late. Off to a good start.”

  There it was, Daniel thought sourly.

  Passive-Aggressive Comment No. 1.

  “I haven’t been late to anything in probably twelve years,” Daniel said. “Not since I was a young idiot.”

  Nigel shrugged and locked the car doors with the key fob. “How would I know that?”

  Daniel stiffened.

  Passive-Aggressiv
e Comment No. 2, welcome to the party.

  Doing his best to never rise to his father’s bait, Daniel turned to Sean for a handshake and quick hug. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Pops said I could run through the vines.” The use of the nickname, along with the fond glance Sean shot at Nigel, upped Daniel’s vague annoyance level by about fifty percent. “He said dawn’s the best time to do that. You missed a great game, man. Could you believe that kick in the third quarter?”

  Daniel, who’d spent most of the game thinking about Zoya, faked a laugh. “Still trying to make sense of it.”

  “Well, I’m taking off,” Sean said. “We still on for lunch, Pops? Harper Rose?”

  Daniel frowned. Lunch? These two were having lunch now? What the—?

  “See you then, son,” Nigel said, pulling Sean in for a hug. “Be careful on the path. There’re some rocky patches.”

  “Will do.”

  Nigel headed for the building and called over his shoulder at Daniel. “You coming?”

  “One sec.” Daniel glared at Sean. “What’re you? My dad’s newest son?”

  “Maybe. How’d you and Zoya enjoy the evening game? I assume you were multitasking from bed.”

  “Mind your business,” Daniel said, grateful that the light was still dim enough to hide his burning ears.

  Sean grinned. “I’m sure you’ve got it all under control. Hey, listen. About your father...”

  “Your new best friend?”

  “He’s really excited about you starting today.”

  Daniel snorted. “My father doesn’t do excited when it comes to me.”

  “Sure he does. It was all he talked about last night,” Sean said.

  “Right.” Daniel pretended to yawn. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Don’t let your hot temper blow it.”

  “Excuse me? You know the old man for ten minutes, and now you’re taking his side over mine?”

  “What’re we? In fifth grade? I know how you are, man. Don’t flare up at some perceived slight and shoot yourself in the foot.”