The Memory of You

by Laurie Kellogg

  He twirled his linguini on his fork and looked toward the window. “I’m glad I never started painting today. It’s gotten really cold out. I think it’s about to rain again.”

  The weather. Now there was a nice safe subject.

  She relaxed her shoulders and rubbed her arms. “It has gotten cold. I turned the furnace off at the beginning of the week. Maybe I should put it back on.”

  “The temperature is supposed to go back up tomorrow. After dinner, why don’t I just start a fire to warm you up?”

  “That’d be great.” She smiled. As long as he planned on starting it in the fireplace.

  ~~~

  By the time they finished loading the dishwasher, it was nine o’clock. Matt jerked his head toward the living room. “I’ll go get that fire going.”

  “Actually, don’t bother.” Abby smiled. “I think I’ll just take a hot bath, hop right into bed, and read.”

  He stared at her, bewildered. What’d she think he’d shaved for? There was no way she could’ve misunderstood the kiss he’d given her before dinner. He’d pulled out all the stops to give her a preview of what was to come. Had he scared her?

  Two nights before, he’d kept his passion in check so things wouldn’t go too far. But that wasn’t the case now. He wanted things to get out of control.

  Matt stepped closer to her. “Why don’t you bring your book out to the living room and read there while I play the piano for you?” He tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes. “I’ll even take requests.”

  “I don’t think I should. We’re moving pretty fast.”

  Not fast enough as far as he was concerned. He smiled and whispered, “I know. But do it anyway.”

  She did a double take, looking as if she didn’t trust her senses. Had he reminded her of his younger self again? He slid his hand up her satin cheek. “What’s the matter, Sweetheart?”

  “Matt said that exact same thing when I told him I didn’t think I should go out with him. It’s the second time you’ve used those same words. I know. But do it anyway.”

  He tweaked her nose. “Everyone says that, silly. You say it all the time to Tommy when he complains about doing something.”

  “Maybe it’s just the tone you used or the expression on your face. It gave me the shivers.”

  “So what do you say? Will you spend the evening with me?”

  “I really didn’t want to get dressed again.”

  “Then don’t. Put your robe on and come sit by the fire.”

  She hesitated another moment and then nodded. “Okay. But only if you behave yourself.”

  He’d behave, all right—like a man who hadn’t been with his wife in forever.

  While Abby showered, Matt started a roaring blaze in the fireplace, opened a bottle of merlot he’d found in the kitchen, then paced the living room.

  If he were sure Abby could forget the kid she’d married, he’d confess who he was. But first, he had to be certain she could love the tortured shell of a man he’d become.

  Damn. He glanced at his watch. How long did it take to wash that tiny body? He imagined sliding his lathered hands over her breasts and snorted. Hell, if he were bathing her, he’d take an eternity and then some.

  He meandered down the hall to her bedroom and found her standing in front of the mirror, wearing a long, filmy white nightgown beneath her short silk kimono, trying to untangle her wet hair. He stepped inside and took the comb from her. “Come sit by the fire and let me do it.”

  “I swear—you men are all closet hairdressers.” She chuckled. “Matt loved combing my mop, too.”

  “I can’t imagine a man not enjoying it.” He led her to the living room and laid an afghan in front of the fireplace. After pouring them each a glass of the wine, he turned off the lamp, leaving the room illuminated only by the flames.

  Kneeling behind her, he worked the comb through each golden snarl. When the tangles were gone, he plunged his fingers into her waves and massaged her scalp. Between the heat from the fire and his combing, her thick curtain of hair had nearly dried.

  “Mmm....that feels wonderful.” She sipped her wine, then tipped her head back, closing her eyes. She had no idea how good her silky mane felt to him.

  He rubbed his face in it and breathed in her flowery scent. “You smell so good. Just like Abby.”

  Wait. He mentally pulled himself up short. She was Abby. But he’d meant the young girl locked in his subconscious.

  “I hope I smell like me.” She laughed. “I certainly wouldn’t want to smell like you.”

  Turning her, he pushed her back and pinned her to the blanket. He gazed into her kelly-green eyes and stroked her cheek. “What’s so bad about how I smell?”

  Her hair fanned out around her like the sun’s corona. The fireplace’s flickering flames danced across her face, making her ivory skin almost luminous. She seemed so familiar this way.

  Was it because he’d spent so much time seeing her from this perspective? If two weeks were all they’d had together after they were married, he was sure he’d spent every moment he could making love to her.

  ~~~

  Abby lifted her gaze, and her breath caught at the predatory glint in Mac’s eyes. She’d known better than to join him in the living room. So why had she?

  Probably because deep down she wanted him to seduce her. Why else would she have put on the sexy nightgown she’d worn on her wedding night? Laying her hand on his smooth-shaven cheek, she dissolved in his arms.

  He lowered his head to kiss her. His warm tongue gently explored the interior of her mouth, his breaths coming faster with each stroke. “Oh, Babe,” he murmured into her lips. “You taste so amazingly good.”

  She wove her fingers through his hair and down his neck, tracing the corded muscles in his shoulders. Without a spare ounce of fat, the ridges and valleys in his hard body were that much more pronounced. She shivered from his hungry mouth nibbling its way down her throat. Moaning, she arched her back, pressing herself up to him.

  He jerked his mouth away, panting, and rested his forehead against hers. “Sweetheart, I can’t keep doing this. When you crawled into my bed last night, I thought I’d go insane, wanting you.” His voice’s huskiness testified to the intensity of his desire. “Please, I need you.” He nuzzled her ear. “I have to know now if we’re not taking this all the way.”

  “I want to make love with you more than anything, Mac, but I’ve only known you nine days.”

  “After being together night and day, it seems more like weeks.”

  “What’s the hurry? In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve managed to talk me into letting you be a father to my son, and I don’t even know what our relationship is. Are you my housepainter, a friend? What?”

  “How about lovers?” he whispered, framing her face between his hands. “If you knew me longer, would you hold back now?”

  It wasn’t just how long she’d known Mac that worried her. When he found out she couldn’t give him the children he wanted, he might walk right out the door, and she’d end up hurt.

  “If I wasn’t sure how I felt—you bet. Just yesterday, I was engaged to marry someone else. We’re moving way too fast.”

  “Oh, no, love.” He pulled her closer and growled in her ear, “Not nearly fast enough. I’m not sure how I feel about you, either. I just know every cell in my body wants you.” He pressed her hand to his straining fly and kissed her softly. “I’ve been tortured, beaten, starved, and mentally abused for over six years. I haven’t been with a woman in all that time. Making love to you is all I think about anymore.”

  She twisted her mouth in a wry smile, amused by the way he’d presented his desperate case. “In other words, you want me to relieve a sex-starved vet’s frustration and make love with you as an act of charity?”

  “No-o.” He heaved a wine-scented huff. “Not out of pity. I didn’t mean it that way.” He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. “Okay, damn it. Maybe I did. But I don’t want just any wom
an. Only you.”

  “I want you, too. But there has to be more than desire.”

  “There is more. I like and respect you, Abby. And I’d like nothing better than to fall in love with you and live with Tommy. But I won’t pretend I already have in order to do that.”

  “I want Tommy to be able to live with his daddy.”

  He kissed her softly. “Does that mean you’ll sleep with me tonight?”

  If she didn’t make love with Mac before she told him her secret, when he moved on like all the rest, she would miss the ecstasy she was certain she would find in his arms.

  “I’m so afraid of getting hurt,” she whispered. “I still haven’t recovered from losing the first man I loved.”

  His penetrating gaze searched her face. “I would never intentionally hurt you, Sweetheart. I’m as vulnerable as you are. You could just as easily decide I’m not the guy for you.”

  No way was his heart in as much danger. Despite all the problems he had to deal with, he still needed a whole woman to fulfill his dreams.

  He covered her mouth with his in a lingering kiss, leaving her breathless and trembling. It’d been so long since she’d felt complete. She wanted to feel that way again, even if it was just an illusion or for only one night. And she suspected if anyone could help her do that, Mac could.

  “I know I’m going to regret this. So, please, hurry up and make love to me, before I change my mind.”

  “No way. I told you earlier I needed a commitment. Now that I have one, I plan to savor every moment.” He trailed his fingers down to her breast and teased it. “I want to make love to you very slowly....several times.

  She shivered with anticipation. “Since you have an all-nighter planned, why don’t we move this to the bedroom?”

  “Not just an all-nighter.” He chuckled. “I plan to take this right into tomorrow afternoon.”

  Afternoon? She should have her head examined for agreeing to make love with him. At any rate, if things didn’t work out between them, she’d find out if her mother had been right. Her mantra had always been that Matt Foster wasn’t the only man on earth.

  Except to Abby, he was.

  Chapter 15

  Matt shadowed Abby into her bedroom. When his meticulous wife headed straight for the dresser to toss her comb back in the drawer, he smiled. Stepping behind her, he slipped his hands around her waist and studied her face in the mirror. “I hope you’re not planning to fold our clothes, too.”

  He kissed the nape of her neck and worked at the knot on her robe. Skimming it off her shoulders, he watched her reflection. He let the kimono drop on the carpet in a heap and gently nibbled her tender flesh. Her eyes drifted shut, and her head dropped to the side, further exposing her throat.

  Her diaphanous nightie did little to hide the masterpiece beneath. It simply maintained some of the mystery while providing a tantalizing view of her dusky nipples and the feminine shadow between her legs. He let his gaze wander over her, enjoying the same keen anticipation a kid feels on Christmas morning, tearing the paper off a beautifully wrapped gift.

  He slid the gown’s thin straps off her shoulders and eagerly peeled the silky fabric down her body. His breath caught in his chest when her bare breasts were finally revealed in the mirror. She was so beautiful. He worked the gown over the gentle swell of her hips. It pooled in a soft puddle at their feet.

  He traced a thin scar on her abdomen ran vertically from below her navel to just above her golden curls. “Did you have a cesarean when you had Tommy?”

  Panic flared in her eyes, and she squeaked, “Y-yes.”

  Great. Make the woman feel defective.

  “I was just curious. You’re perfect,” he murmured in her ear, splaying his hand over her abdomen. He nipped the curve of her neck and slid his hands up the front of her to cup her breasts. Her back arched, pressing her lush peaks more firmly into his palms while her head thrashed against his chest.

  The excitement on her face captivated and aroused him. He rolled her rosy nipples between his fingers, and was rewarded by her whimper of pleasure. None of his hazy memories of sex were ever this good.

  “Your skin feels just like satin,” he whispered, gliding one hand down her belly toward the soft curls below, continuing to caress her breast. She writhed against him and moaned while he nibbled on her ear without ever pulling his gaze from the mirror. She looked so erotic. “Sweetheart, open your eyes and see how beautiful you look.”

  Her lashes fluttered up, revealing the passion glazing her eyes. He stroked the down covering the juncture of her thighs. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, tilting her hips toward his palm. He gently parted her with his fingers.

  Nuzzling her ear, he whispered, “That’s the look Rob wanted to see in your eyes, love. He was right to call off the wedding.”

  ~~~

  Abby panted her pleasure and watched Mac intimately touch her. Trembling, she reached over her head and held onto his neck, leaning back against his chest. “My knees feel like two overcooked noodles.”

  “Shhh....don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”

  The muscular arm across her body tightened, pressing his hard response into her back. Cupping her mound with his other hand, he lifted her while his fingers worked their magic.

  If he hadn’t held her suspended in front of him, she would’ve collapsed. While he teased the bud inside her crease, her legs jerked violently against his unyielding restraint. Mac was right. She never could’ve felt this way with Rob.

  Mac’s gaze never left her face while he fondled her, kissing her neck and shoulders. The sight of him pleasing her doubled her urgency. But even headier was the powerful longing on his face, shouting the extent of his need for her.

  A delightful shiver swept through her. A wave of heat rushed to where his fingers teased her and burst into an intense blaze of sensation. His muscles strained, holding her writhing body while he continued to stroke her again and again, prolonging her ecstasy. The pleasure was almost too much.

  “Oh, Mac!” Her legs became useless while she shuddered through a lingering climax.

  Tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue, he whispered, “Rob was wrong, Sweetheart. Exciting you is nothing like trying to ignite concrete. And it definitely doesn’t take a blowtorch to make you feel like a woman, does it?”

  She shook her head and sighed. No, she only needed him to make her feel utterly whole. “Wait a minute....” She stiffened, her cheeks flaming. “You heard us last night?”

  He buried his face in her neck and chuckled. “Mmmm. Just bits and pieces. I was in the basement.”

  When he loosened his hold and let her slide down his hard body, her legs still felt like linguini. She pivoted in his arms and pouted up at him. “A gentleman would’ve kept that to himself and pretended he hadn’t heard.”

  Gently kneading her bottom, he pulled her snug against his erection and growled softly in her ear. “Baby, you’re about to find out you’re not dealing with a gentleman.”

  She glanced down between their bodies and gasped. She was stark naked while he still had every stitch on. “Uhh, there seems to be an inequitable distribution of clothing in this room.”

  He pulled his socks off. “There, is that better?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Exactly.” As she tugged the hem of his shirt from his pants, he pressed her hand to his stiff arousal and grinned. “It’s sure as hell not—as you put it—an overcooked noodle.”

  Chuckling, she quickly popped the buttons open on his shirt, and then pushed it off his shoulders.

  ~~~

  Matt clenched his teeth while Abby’s hands swept from his abdomen up to his chest, sensually caressing him. He wanted to take his time making love to her, but her touch drove him crazy. The fly on his jeans was so tight his erection felt as if it were in a vise.

  She combed her fingers through the crop of hair between his pecs and rubbed her face in it. “Matt didn’t have this much hair on his chest.” She smiled up
at him. “It was finer, too.”

  Evidently Rob had been right on the money about her. She’d taken her memories and feelings for Matt and blown them up into something no man could ever live up to.

  Maybe not even him.

  He tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes. “Do you measure every man against your late husband?”

  “I’m sorry. Maybe I do.”

  He could see how another guy might be threatened by his ghost. The only reason he didn’t feel the same blow to his ego was because it was him Abby kept eulogizing.

  Only....it wasn’t really him.

  ~~~

  Abby dropped her hands to the waist of Mac’s jeans and mentally kicked herself, pressing her mouth to his. Maybe she wouldn’t keep comparing Mac to her husband if he didn’t arouse her the same way.

  She unsnapped Mac’s pants and slowly drew the straining zipper down over his bulging erection. His pants fell around his ankles with only a little help from her. After he stepped out of them, she slipped her hand inside his briefs and cradled the warm weight of him in her palm. “Oh, Mac, you’re so soft.”

  Sucking in a sharp breath, he muttered past his gritted teeth, “That’s not what a man wants to hear at a moment like this.”

  “I didn’t mean mushy.” She stroked his smooth length and sighed. “You feel like velvet.”

  He crushed her lips with his, groaning. “Sweetheart, please.” He pulled her hand away. “As much as I love what you’re doing, it’s been way too long for me. I want to be able to last for you. You can touch me all you want later.”

  Sweeping his arm behind her knees, he scooped her up and gently placed her on the bed. He shed his briefs, gazing down at her. “You’re so gorgeous.”

  She squirmed from the moist heat between her legs, and studied Mac’s hard sculptured body. His ribs weren’t nearly as pronounced as they’d been, and even though he still needed about another ten pounds to soften his hungry appearance, he looked muscular and gorgeous just as he was.

  “No, you’re the one who’s gorgeous.” She stared at his penis standing proudly at attention. He was impressive. Maybe even bigger than Matt. Definitely longer. She raised her gaze to his passion-drenched face and smiled. He stretched out next to her and brushed her lips with his.