Forevermore

by Cristiane Serruya

  “Well, to make matters worse, he’s still in love with his late wife,” Ava said.

  “How do you know?” Eirik asked, leaning into view.

  Ava sighed. How can he not still love her? She was beautiful and perfect. She was his wife and Olivia’s mother.

  It was silly of her to even want him so badly knowing she could never replace Rachel in his heart.

  “Well, for one thing, his finger still bears the mark of his ring,” Ava said. “It’s obvious he still cares for her.”

  “And he’ll always care for her,” Hildegard said. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t love you. It’s not as complicated as you think.”

  “We know what we are talking about,” chimed in Eirik. “Give him a chance.”

  “I’ll think about it, Morfar, but not now. I’m too tired.”

  “Oh, we’ll let you rest then,” Eirik said, and added, “There’s always a silver lining in every bad situation, and even in the worst of times, you can find it.”

  “Thank you for checking in, Ava,” Hildegard added. “Keep me updated on your love life. Sleep well.”

  Ava said her goodbyes and closed her computer. Hildegard made it seem so simple, yet she knew it was anything but. Aleksander was a complex man with a myriad of emotions and a lifetime of trauma. And she wasn’t without her own complex past either. But while hers were a long way in her past, his were still too fresh.

  Just a few hours ago his beautiful eyes were misted because of his late wife.

  Love is worth the risk. As she went downstairs for her Yoga exercise, her grandmother’s words kept repeating themselves in her head. She didn’t know if what she felt towards Aleksander could actually be love. She certainly felt both lust and infatuation towards Aleksander, but she couldn’t help but wonder why there was still something about him that felt different. More real. More intricate. More irresistible.

  But there were too many obstacles: rules and ethics, a dying Olivia and a dead Rachel.

  Whatever it is between us, it can’t grow any deeper.

  Where have I gone? Aleksander stood and stared moodily out the window into the night. I want my old self back. But he was damned if he knew how to do it.

  Above, the moon gleamed bright and reflected boldly off the snow-covered terrain. In the distance the lake glistened and shone like silver with nary a ripple to disturb the pristine surface. It was a tranquil sight and yet his insides were in complete turmoil. His brother’s words whispered to him, an insidious thought that once seeded had taken root and it shamed him that he gave it more thought with each passing day. Take her.

  But he couldn’t.

  Because he knew that what he felt wasn’t simple lust. What it was, he couldn’t say. It was new and fresh.

  He was on the cusp of something alarming and exhilarating all at the same time.

  He wanted her, yes. Not a doubt. But he wouldn’t take what wasn’t willingly given.

  He looked at the place where the picture of Rachel was and said, “Know what, Rachel? I’ve got it bad.”

  A glance at his watch told him it was after ten in the evening. He had to do something, however incidental, however ordinary.

  He left the room in search of Ava, hoping she was still awake.

  He found her in his exercise room in the basement by the heated pool.

  Eyes closed, hands poised in front of her in prayer, one foot resting upon her inner upper thigh in the Tree position. With her mass of hair pulled back in a sexy ponytail, she was wearing dove-gray leggings and a halter, all tight-fitting, revealing her sumptuous curves in a way none of her loose-fitting, modest wardrobe ever had.

  With fluidity and skill, she bent, stretching her leg at the same time as her arm in a position he didn’t know the name of.

  Such a beautiful body. It fascinated him, tugged at him as she held the pose, perfectly still. Damn, she is beautiful, so strong and feminine. So at peace.

  The top showed off long, toned arms and a sculpted abdomen; the black pants clung to narrow hips, slid down shapely buttocks and long legs to end before her narrow ankles and feet with toenails painted blood-red. He noticed how voluptuous and lean her legs were, so perfect, it was a sin to cover them in the shapeless slacks she also wore.

  New Agey music murmured like water in a stream from her iPod.

  Muscles moved temptingly beneath her creamy flesh, glowing in the soft light.

  Aleksander’s body simmered with heat.

  Closing his eyes, he could still picture the scene so vividly. He wanted her that badly.

  Nearly moaning with the agony of it, he opened his eyes.

  Ava moved on from the Virabhadrasana III to the Trikonasana, completely unaware of the man behind her or his thoughts. She lowered her leg to the floor in a sidebent triangle formation, cocked forward, leaning down, down until her hand rested on the floor by her front foot, turning her torso, while her other arm reached for the ceiling, and her head followed.

  As her gaze swept up, her eyes met his and she smiled.

  And Aleksander felt if he’d been expected, as if he hadn’t been playing Peeping Tom.

  Breaking her position, she reached down and scooped up a towel, running it over her shoulders and turned off her iPod.

  A single bead of sweat trickled down her neck, then ran between her breasts.

  His eyes followed it greedily.

  She moved closer to him without a sound, stopping when they were only inches apart. She looked at him, expectantly, a trace of a smile on her face.

  Those other times when he was alone with her, he’d seemed to unconsciously position himself in ways that were less threatening to her, forcing himself to appear not interested and standoffish. When he was calm, he held his body very still. No gestures with his long, muscular arms or pacing in great strides. Just stillness.

  He noticed the small freckles on her nose, the way one side of her mouth would lift slightly higher than the opposite side when she smiled. He found himself so lost in her that he couldn’t think of what to say.

  Unsure, she filled the silence. “Do you need something? Is it Olivia?”

  “No. It’s just…I enjoy watching you. You’re beautiful.”

  He knew that some man had gotten hold of her heart and serious damage had been done. Unwittingly, she’d revealed that weakness to him. And she, he also knew, was his weakness. He decided he needed to ask it now, before he lost the nerve. “Would you sleep with me if I weren’t Olivia’s father?”

  She stepped back, tilted her head, exaggerating a measuring look over him.

  He seemed to stop breathing before taking a hesitant step forward.

  He’d also done that when watching the stars and they’d been alone. He’d been so tentative, likely thinking of his late wife, restraining himself when he so obviously wanted to get closer.

  How to answer? Admit my shameful desire for a patient’s father? Or crush his ego? She sighed inward, sensing his need for an answer. Why should I care about the latter? Because I wasn’t born a cruel person.

  Aleksander was a markedly physical handsome man. The pleasure she garnered from ogling his massive body was one of the reasons she was still here.

  “Do you find me attractive?” he asked, with an arrogant raised brow, but his voice came out gruff.

  Men don’t often come six and a half feet tall and so generously built. He probably intimidated the hell out of some women while leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him when he married… And that made her snap out of her reverie. Married!

  “What does it matter if I find anything attractive about you?” she finally asked. “You are still very much in love with Rachel.”

  Aleksander started, took a step back, and folded his strong arms over his large chest.

  “I still think of her,” he admitted after a moment. “But she is gone and I am here. Alive.”

  “So you think sleeping with me will change things?” she asked, frowning.

  “I don’t know.” He stared deep
into her eyes and said in a sure, deep voice, “All I know is that when I look at you, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  “That isn’t the issue!” Ava cried, frustrated and confused. “Besides, I’m Olivia’s doctor!”

  “Isn’t it?” Aleksander asked, clasping her wrists in his hands and wrenching her close to him. He bent until they were face to face. “You’re scared, Ava, so you’re looking for any excuse to make a quick exit. Olivia, Rachel. Anything, so you won’t have to face what’s really happening here.”

  Ava swallowed hard and asked miserably, “What is happening here?”

  Aleksander let her hands go, albeit reluctantly.

  “I don’t know exactly,” he confessed, raking his hand through his hair. “But I think we’d damn well better find out, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Everything inside her went on sudden alert—the quiet before a storm. “A few hours ago, you were looking at your wedding album and exalting what a perfect couple you made with Rachel. I…I feel like this is her house—darn it, this is her house! And you’re her husband. It’s kind of like being the other woman.”

  Stunned anew, he looked at her for a moment, before blurting out, “That’s crazy.”

  “No, it isn’t. Look at your left hand, Aleksander.” Ava shook her head. “You can still see where the wedding band was. When did you take it off? Two weeks ago? Last month?”

  “What does it matter when I took it off? The point is, I’m not wearing it anymore, have not been for some time. And as for the album, my mother asked for it, that’s all.” Frustration rode Aleksander’s shoulders. “You’re the jealous type?”

  “I’m not jealous.” She waved the idea away as if it were ridiculous. She couldn’t decide whether he failed to understand her, or didn’t respect her. After their talk while watching the stars, she had hoped he might afford her a touch more credit. “I don’t like it when people write me off as insignificant.”

  “Insignificant?” he asked exasperated. “I just told you I want you. More than anything I’ve ever wanted. Do you understand that? I never mentioned Rachel. You did.”

  She thought for a moment, realizing that she had. It was true; he’d had a life with that woman. They’d had a child together. She couldn’t expect him to ever completely toss her away. It wouldn’t be fair to Olivia, to himself. Rachel will always be there.

  The problem was not him, but her. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said sweetly. “Maybe I was being unreasonable. I’ve just never done this before.” And I will not be the other again. Never.

  He sighed. “I haven’t, either.”

  She wanted him to be right, she wanted him to be wrong. And while that sounded as if she were confused, Ava was dead certain that he was both the last man she should kiss and the only one she dreamt of having.

  She pulled her sweater on and headed for the door, bitterness brought by the past making her angry. She felt her chest expand on an inhale, the air painful in the confine of her lungs.

  She’d taken two steps before she turned around and gave him a low smile, one that seemed to stab straight through his gut. “Ah, yes. About your question concerning your attractiveness…”

  A flicker of emotion crossed his face—something powerful and vulnerable at the same time. But she only saw arrogance.

  “I’m sure your dick is as massive as your head is thick.”

  What? Her tone sent another flash of heat through him. There was no way he was going to let her walk out on that condescending, sexually-charged note, leaving him stewing in lust. In two strides, he grabbed her arm just before she reached the door.

  “Is there anything else you want?” she demanded, trying to sound bored, trying to maintain her equilibrium.

  For a moment, there was only the sound of wind humming outside.

  She wanted him physically. He could not miss the signs: the flush on her cheeks, the unsteady rhythm of her breath, the unconscious sway of her body toward his.

  “Yes,” Aleksander said quietly. With his free hand, he banged the door closed and crowded her against it.

  She could feel the heat of his hand radiating through the sweater, of his body as he pinioned her to the cold wood. She felt soft against him and smelled of springtime, even when wind and snow froze the earth around them.

  “And?” She pressed her hand against his sweater.

  Not only against his sweater, but against his heart beneath it, and straight through to all the pain and bitterness lodged in it.

  The sensation spiraled through him like a whirlwind over snow, catching flurry-ice dust and tossing it up to the sky.

  Everything was wrong. Everything was right.

  Everything was possible.

  “I think I’ll just get this out of my system.”

  If she was going to protest, it was muffled against his mouth as he pressed it against hers.

  Just once, he promised himself as her lips parted and she melted against him. Just once more.

  And even if once more wasn’t enough for him anymore, he would take it.

  His tongue pushed for entry and she gave way, and the taste of him was dark and wicked and exactly what she wanted. He tasted like every sin she’d ever been warned against and committed, every rule she’d learned and broken.

  While taming her mouth, he grasped her hips in his hands and pressed her close, making her feel his size and power. And his need for her.

  She was powerless to stop him. She couldn’t imagine wanting to stop him. He was so big, so sure. He made her feel feminine, and small, pretty, and…wanted. Just for tonight.

  And maybe that was alright: just for tonight.

  Chapter 25

  Ava had felt a man’s body against her own before but never with such clarity as this. She was aware of Aleksander in every fiber of her being as he pressed himself flush against her.

  But it was his mouth that mystified her.

  Now, it was not gentle or testing; it took and plundered and demanded more before she could withhold a response.

  The warmth spread from inside, where her blood flowed fast, as her body was molded to Aleksander’s.

  She could feel him: the big, warm, powerful body under the civilized trappings. She could feel the tension in his powerful thighs. She was aware of his arousal.

  Something kicked, low in her belly, and heat uncoiled there, serpentlike.

  As he undid her braid, he undid her.

  Her hands slid up, to grasp his shoulders, then up again to find the thick dark curls, where they tangled. She held him thus, as he held her, and kissed him back, as stubborn and angry as he.

  Stubborn and angry and hot and wanting.

  She forgot herself, or the woman she had thought herself to be, and discovered another.

  When he lifted his mouth, Ava kept her eyes closed, savoring the lingering pleasures, inviting fresh ones.

  “More?” he murmured as his hand trailed up, then down her spine.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. “Please.”

  “Kissing can be a risky pastime, Ava.” He lowered his mouth again, then nipped at her soft bottom lip.

  She rose an eyebrow at him. “And you know all about risks, don’t you?”

  He kissed her again, hard, leaving her breathless, yet his large, warm hand was surprisingly gentle as it delved under the hem of her sweater, skimmed her stomach and—finally—cupped her breast over her work-out bra, his thumb grazing her erect nipple.

  Electric jolts suddenly shot down into her stomach and she moaned on his mouth, “Alek, don’t stop.”

  I won’t. As if she needed to tell him so. He would not have stopped for anything.

  His fingertips tenderly tugged on her hard nipple again. Back and forth, he rubbed and tugged. His gentle caress seemed tentative, as if he were waiting to see her reaction.

  Her breaths soon became short, hot, pants for air.

  It was all the invitation he needed. Grabbin
g the hem of her sweater, he lifted it up over her head, and then her top, exposing her breasts.

  Christ. They were more perfect than he’d imagined, and he’d imagined quite a bit.

  Bowing his head, he took one peaked nipple into his mouth, then the other, giving them equal time, licking and sucking as she trembled and gasped, her hands pulled at his sweater, tore it off. “More.”

  If he was stiff before, now he was painfully rigid.

  He took her mouth again. Blindly, his hands were on her back, then on her waist, on the top of her hip bones, rubbing back and forth, traveling on her flesh, with feather-light pressure, and then they were pushing down her leggings, raising her legs, and ripping them off.

  He was exciting her skin’s cells, bringing a flurry of pleasurable sensations.

  And she was tingling everywhere.

  Aching.

  Then he knelt and pulled down her pants. And, with his eyes locked onto hers, he lifted her leg over his shoulder.

  “Alek.” Ava closed her eyes, leaned her head back, when his tongue traced and parted the folds of her sex.

  He could taste her desire, sweet and reminiscent of some fine wine. He circled his tongue, found her clitoris, and she thrust her hips against his mouth.

  And when he sucked at her clitoris, a small cry left her lips. “Kristus, Alek.”

  She was so passionate, so responsive to his touch.

  He loved this feeling. It wasn’t just the joy of pleasuring her—though that was awesome, in and of itself. It was this heady, superhuman awareness, the intensity of focus that could push him out of his troubled mind and make him feel he could do anything.

  Her hands pulled at his hair as he coaxed her higher. Her body tensed and stiffened as he licked her quicker, sucked her harder.

  He felt as if he was inside a storm when her raspy breaths turned into mewls, pleads, and moans, when her hands began to tremble in his hair, when her leg faltered and he had to grip at her waist to keep her up.

  And he felt a little dazed by her heat and her scream of pleasure as she trembled in a gripping climax.