by Elise Faber
Maybe they could move forward.
“Col?” she asked, when all he did was continue to stare at her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m memorizing every detail of your face so that when you kick me out into the bloody cold Finnish weather, I’ll remember that you have a freckle just beneath your eye and another on the top corner of your lip. I’ll remember exactly the way your eyes curve near their corners and how your top lashes are thicker than the bottoms. I’ll remember the hint of pink”—he swiped a finger over both of her cheekbones—“just here and here. I’ll remember every part of you for the rest of my life. I let the details get blurred in the past, and while I couldn’t ever hope to forget you, at least now I’ll be able to remember you as perfect as you are in this moment.”
Her pulse had picked up its pace during his speech, and her skin had gone taut, heating with desire, with embarrassment, with awe. “I think that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say at one time.”
One half of his mouth curved. “Probably.”
Silence fell between them again. “Do you really notice all of that?”
A nod. “Aye.”
She groaned. “No fair busting out the full Scottish accent.”
“Nothing is fair in love and war, lass.”
CeCe groaned again, but it was to hide the way her heart had skipped a beat at the word love. Though truth be told, it skipped another when Colin called her lass.
Ugh.
But also, aw.
And also, shit, shit, she was really going to do this. “Col—” she began.
“Aye?”
Or something like it.
“You’re laying it on real thick. But”—she reached up and placed a finger across his lips when he opened his mouth, presumably to protest—“that wasn’t what I was going to say.” He nipped at her finger, and she jumped back. “Hey! Behave.” And yet, Cecilia was grinning and felt light for the first time in years. “I was going to say that maybe we could bring the food over to the bed beneath the glass roof, lie down and—Colin! Stop grinning. I was going to say lie down and watch for the aurora borealis.”
“Well, that’s disappointing.” But he grinned and pushed her in the direction of the bed. “Get comfortable, and I’ll grab the food.”
She curled up and watched the sky get fully dark, popping grapes and cheese and crackers into her mouth almost as fast as Colin handed them over. They talked, not about the past, but about the places she wanted to visit next.
Paris because the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre were a must.
Copenhagen because her grandfather had lived there and she wanted to visit the palaces and see the colorful buildings next to the harbor.
The Alps. Barcelona. The Colosseum. And back to London.
Because Hyde Park and old English manners and changeable weather and small twisting streets surrounded by tall buildings.
And also, she thought, her heart catching when the sky lit up with a magical green hue, back to London because it was closer to a confusing, sweet Scottish man who’d stolen a piece of her heart and had never given it back.
Nineteen
Cecilia, eight years before
* * *
Wind blew through her hair, messing up the painfully styled curls she’d spent way too much time perfecting, probably tangling it to hell and back, but the tease of the ocean air on her nape, her shoulders, her cheeks felt so damned good that she didn’t bother to fight it.
Instead, she lifted her chin and inhaled the salt-tinged breeze.
This place was home, more than anywhere else she had been in her life.
And she was leaving in two days.
A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t want to leave, but home—no, responsibilities were calling—and so she would go.
“Why are you crying, sweetheart?” Colin’s voice broke through her thoughts.
She shook her head, shrugged. “Vacation ending blues, I guess.”
He sank down onto the blanket next to her and pulled her into his arms. “No, I don’t think that’s it.”
He was right, but CeCe didn’t want to ruin their last night with tears. She didn’t want to leave and not just because Scotland was amazing or her life at home was going to be lonely without her friends or her parents. It wasn’t even because her parents couldn’t stomach to look at her after she’d defied their wishes, or because her backpack contained all of the possessions she’d been allowed to leave with—namely only the things she’d purchased with her own money.
She was destroyed because she didn’t want to leave Colin.
And when she got on the plane two days from then, it would be without a piece of her heart.
Without a huge, giant chunk of the emotional organ.
Yes, she was being fanciful.
But lying in the lap of a hot Scottish hero on the side of a cliff, wind whipping and sun setting around them called for some fancy.
“CeCe?” he asked.
“Shh.” Her fingers slid around the back of his neck, and she tugged until his mouth touched hers.
This kiss was like all the others they’d shared during their three weeks together—sweet and hot and dizzying. Heat flared up her spine, clouding her thoughts.
More. Yes. Like that.
But when she lay back on the blanket and pulled him closer, wanting his weight on top of her, pressing into her breasts, her thighs, Colin hesitated.
“Hey,” he murmured and gathered her against his chest. “I’ve brought you something.”
She pouted, drifting her fingers down to the hard length of him nudging her thigh. “I know.”
He chuckled, snagging her wandering hand. “Not that.” Then he ducked down slightly so that his eyes met hers. “I brought you this.” Colin opened her palm and dropped something inside.
Something metal and round.
Her eyes widened as she took in the antique necklace she’d admired over the last weeks from the shop in town. “How?” She shook her head, shocked that he’d been so perceptive when she’d been so careful about even looking at it after the gorgeous pendant had stolen her breath. It was too expensive, unnecessary when she needed to watch what she was spending.
This trip was about memories and not possessions.
Plus, she couldn’t exactly wear it while she was in the pool and since that was where she would be spending her foreseeable future . . .
She’d put it out of her mind.
Colin hadn’t apparently.
“How?” she asked again as he fastened it around her neck.
He looked a little embarrassed. “It’s nothing.” A shrug. “I saw you looking at it, and I wanted you to have it.”
“It’s too much,” she said, running her finger over the interwoven strands of silver and gold before smiling and pressing a kiss to his lips. “But I love it, and I’m not giving it back.”
“Good,” he murmured, brushing her hair off her forehead and nuzzling at the base of her jaw.
“Mmm, God I love when you do that,” she said, tilting her head and thrusting her fingers into his hair to keep him there.
And somehow she found herself pressed back against the blanket.
Not that she minded, especially with his mouth on her throat, her lips. His fingers traced her torso, running along the sides of her hips, her ribs, higher—a questioning touch that she answered for him by capturing both of his hands and placing them on her breasts.
They both groaned as he massaged them. Her nipples tightened, pressing against the fabric of her bra, teasing and yet not enough.
“Colin,” she moaned.
He pulled back. “I’m sorry, I should stop.”
“No,” she said, sitting up to tug off her shirt. “I wasn’t trying to stop you.” She unhooked her bra, tossed it to the side. “I wanted more.”
Cecilia bit her bottom lip, forcing her hands to remain at her sides as Colin stared at her.
And didn’t move.
For an eternity.
Or maybe she was making him uncomfortable and he wasn’t ready for this kind of intimacy. Or maybe—
“I’m sorry,” she said, scrambling for her T-shirt. The wind was cold against her skin now, even as embarrassment scalded her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. I shouldn’t have—God. I didn’t even ask you for consent.”
Colin blinked, almost seeming to emerge from a trance. “Fuck, sweetheart. I wholeheartedly consent.” He shook his head, reaching for her. “With whatever you’re comfortable with, that is. It’s just . . . you’re so fucking beautiful I lost my head.”
Her embarrassment faded as his lips found hers, as he touched her gently, as he stroked her desire up to a dizzying level. He was so incredibly perfect and three certain words were desperate to pour from her mouth. But it was too soon. This was a summer romance without any staying power. Not something long-term, not when they lived an ocean apart. Not when her life wouldn’t be hers for the next four years.
Still, she could make a memory.
She could have her first time be with someone she had true feelings for.
And so instead of declaring what was in her heart, she grabbed Colin’s hands, bringing them back to her breasts. “I want it all,” she declared and kissed him with every bit of the passion that was filling her, making her tremble with desire. “I need you on me and inside me. I need your mouth pressed to mine, and I need you to make me forget that I’m leaving all of this behind in two days. I just need you, Colin.”
“Fuck, CeCe,” he said. “You’re so fucking perfect.” And then he returned her kiss, giving her everything she asked for and more.
Twenty
Colin, present day
* * *
Cecilia made the most adorable sounds when she slept—soft mewls as she cuddled closer, gentle sighs that tickled the side of his throat.
She was as beautiful up close as from a distance and though they’d stayed up late into the night, waiting on the aurora borealis and then finally seeing that distinct glimmer of green light up the dark sky, Colin hadn’t allowed himself to sleep.
He was waiting for the other shoe to fall.
He was waiting for Cecilia to see sense.
He needed for her to be more attached to him before it happened. He needed her to love him.
As he’d never stopped loving her.
She yawned and turned in the circle of his arms, stretching and pressing her ass back against his crotch. He tried to shift slightly, so she didn’t rub against the giant problem threatening to burst free of the underwear he’d slipped on before they’d settled into bed, but he didn’t move quickly enough.
Lights flashed behind his lids, and he hissed out a breath as those luscious curves slid against his cock.
“Fuck,” he muttered, placing a hand on CeCe’s hip to stay her motions.
“Mmm,” she murmured, slipping free and sliding closer.
And, he might as well be honest, it felt so fucking good that he didn’t try very hard to keep her away.
“CeCe, baby,” he began, but groaned when the soft cushion of her ass tucked right against his erection. Fuck, but she felt good against him.
“Mmm,” she murmured again and then went ramrod stiff.
Shit. Colin tensed, preparing to haul his ass out into the cold.
She opened her eyes, those green irises startlingly clear. One hand reached up to cup his cheek. “I thought it was a dream,” she said softly.
“Not a dream.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Did you know your eyes are the same color as the northern lights?”
One half of her mouth curved. “Really?”
He kissed that curve. “Aye.”
She shuddered and he smirked. “Still not playing fair, are you?”
“When it comes to you?” he asked, not giving her a chance to reply. “Never.” Another kiss. “I’ll never play fair when it comes to winning you back, sweetheart. Letting you go was the biggest mistake—mistakes—of my life.”
She smiled and it lit up the room. Or maybe that was his heart. “I like it when you don’t play fair.”
Then that smile faltered and the brightness faded. He tried to figure out the underlying meaning of her words, why they’d hurt her so much.
“You—” he began.
But he didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence because then Cecilia’s mouth was on his and her hand was on his cock and . . . his head was spinning.
He pulled back. “Wait, baby. What—”
She sat up, tearing off the robe she’d fallen asleep in, and fuck but she was more gorgeous than ever. “Do you want me, Colin? Because I need you to make me feel good. I need you to make me forget that we were only together the once. I need you to help me forget what came after.”
“I don’t think that—” He shook his head. “We need to talk, we shouldn’t just bury—”
“Then just get the fuck out!” she screamed. “Because you’re going to leave anyway, and then I’ll be broken again and I can’t. I can’t.” She shoved off the bed, snatching the robe and trying to wrestle it on as she ran.
Which didn’t go well.
Colin saw her start to go down before she realized what was happening, saw the tie of the robe tangled around her ankles as she started to sprint down the hall.
He moved, not thinking, not trying to process the words nor the frustration he felt for not knowing what the fuck was going on.
“Ah!” CeCe stumbled and went down in a jumble of limbs.
But he was there.
He caught her.
As he should have done all those years ago.
He righted her, tugged the robe over her shoulders and tied it snugly around her waist.
She wouldn’t look at him, but he didn’t need to see her eyes to know they were shimmering with tears.
“Right, then,” he said, as he should have in the past. “We’re not leaving here until we both have said all there is to say. No more secrets. No more hidden pain. We both need to understand exactly what happened.”
She started to shake her head, but he placed both hands on her shoulders. “No, sweetheart. We’ve run long enough. Now is the time for the truth.” He sucked in a breath when she finally looked at him and the force of her hurt socked him the gut. “The full truth.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
He squeezed lightly and led her back to the bed, tucking her beneath the warm blankets. “If we want to have a chance at moving forward, we need to.” He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. “So I guess the question is, do you want to move forward with me . . . with us?”
She sucked in a breath, her eyes closing for so long that his gut twisted into knots, and then those knots twisted into more knots.
“Yes.” His gaze flew to hers, and he saw the fire in her expression, the determination and his pulse slowed, those knots untangled.
“Good,” he said, trying to sound casual but no doubt failing horribly at it. “Now is this a tea or a whiskey conversation?”
She grinned and then laughed when they both answered at the same time, “Whiskey. Definitely whiskey.”
Twenty-One
Cecilia, eight years before
* * *
There was a bit of pain as Colin pushed inside of her, but it couldn’t compare with that of tearing her hamstring or straining her rotator cuff.
And the bit just before that had been great. He’d catapulted her over the edge in an orgasm that had her seeing stars.
Colin had a very skilled set of fingers and a talented tongue.
It was just that the moment it had all started to feel really good with him inside of her, it was over.
“I’m sorry,” Colin said, sweat making his forehead sh
ine in the moonlight. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll make it up to you. I just—” He kissed her. “Cecilia, you’re amazing.”
“You’re amazing,” she said, tugging him close enough to feel his heart pounding against hers.
“But you didn’t . . .” he trailed off and sounded almost wistful.
She was tempted to lie, but that wasn’t how she and Colin operated. This man was the single person in her life with whom she could be completely honest. And he’d been so open back. It was refreshing and because of that trust, she was able to answer truthfully. “Not during, no. But before was amazing and after the initial pain, it was feeling great. I just didn’t quite get there.” She wrapped her arms around his back, hugging him tight. “For my first time, I think it was incredible.” She laughed, distracted from the way his body grew very stiff against hers. “I kept hearing all of these horror stories from my friends and—”
“You were a bloody virgin?” he growled.
CeCe dropped her arms when he lurched back to glare down at her. “I—uh. I figured you knew. I mean I had no idea what I was doing and you were so—”
“So what? Quick?” Colin reached for his pants and stood, yanking them up his legs. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
The vehemence of his anger took her aback, but it also broke a piece of her. Because this—disgust directed her way, harsh words, and rage-filled eyes—had been all too common in her life. “I wasn’t aware that I needed to tell you. It was my body, my choice—”
“You should have told me,” he snapped then thrust a hand through his hair and paced away. “I would have made it better. So much fucking better.”
Oh.
“Hey.” She stood, straightening her shirt and tugging on her jeans. “It was perfect.”
He made a sound that was so effortlessly Scottish, it was almost hard to describe, a grunt in the back of his throat, part disbelief, part scoff.
“Look at me,” she said and placed one hand on his waist. “Col, please look at me.”