Souvenirs

by Mia Kay

  With one hand, she continued to stroke him. With the other, she explored his abs, thighs, and backside. Once he was panting, twisting into her touch, she rose enough to kiss his chest and sighed the way she did when she ate chocolate. Teasing his nipple with the tip of her tongue, she trailed her nails up his spine. As she reclined, she tightened her hand on his erection, encouraging him to follow her down to the mattress. It wasn’t necessary. He’d follow her into hell for this. She rubbed her feet over his thighs, up his hips, to the small of his back.

  Every inch of him twitched, throbbed, and yearned for her. Sensitive, but in a different way.

  Clever girl.

  “Look at me,” he whispered. He wanted this memory for the rest of his life.

  As he eased into her, he fought the instinct to close his eyes and hide. Instead, his vision darkened until Grace became the bright spot at its center. He breathed in raspy gulps, his body moving as hers responded.

  Trembling, she raked her fingers over his body. He obeyed the silent plea, plunging deeper within her.

  “Relax, baby. It’s just me.”

  “Just you,” she groaned and closed her eyes, a sensual smile on her lips, as he pulled out, only to fill her again. This time the tremors were his, and he lifted her hips as he kept his pace slow.

  “Please, Ben. Sweet . . . heart, please.”

  Her broken plea snapped his control. He thrust and retreated, her body surging to meet him. Again. Again. Faster, then slower. Her legs tightened around him and her nails scored his skin as she urged him on. With a growl, he stroked as deeply as possible. Her body arched to his, and refused to let him go. As her cries of pleasure filled his ears, he was vaguely aware of his hoarse gasps echoing in the room.

  He rubbed his hands over Grace’s sweat soaked skin, memorizing her muscles and how they flexed in the light.

  She kissed him then, hard and hungry, tangling her fingers in his hair and holding him close, shuddering. Her muscles clenched around him, increasing the friction, and Ben grew wild. Vaguely aware of the crash of the headboard against the wall, the buckle of the mattress, he surged inside her, driving deeper until he found his release.

  Ben rested his forehead against hers as his heart pounded in his ears and his breath heaved through his lungs. Grace quivered beneath him. Worried he might crush her, he eased away.

  Her legs tightened around his hips, restraining him. “Don’t.”

  “I must be heavy.”

  “I like it.”

  He propped on one elbow and stared into her dilated gaze and shy, tired smile. A dangerous emotion squeezed his heart, delighting him and terrifying him at the same time. He felt better when her hand shook against his back.

  “Let me get a quick shower,” she whispered. Leaving the bed, she didn’t reach for her gown. Her hair swished against her bare shoulder blades with every sway of her hips. His pleasure deepened as she braced her hand on the wall to steady herself and combed a hand through the tangles at the crown of her head.

  When the shower started, he found the dustbin across the room, disposed of the condom, and turned, surprised to see the bathroom dark despite the open door. Curiosity pulled him forward.

  The light from the room spilled through the door and against the sheer curtain, casting her into shadow. She ran her fingers down her arms, then sluiced water from her face, before rubbing her neck.

  He stepped halfway into the shower and waited for her to scold him. When she didn’t, he joined her.

  “Do you always shower in the dark?” Ben murmured as he slid his hands to her waist. Warm water streamed down his fingers while cooler drips splashed from her body to his.

  She relaxed against him the way she had yesterday in Vienna. Had it only been yesterday? Standing in the rain, he’d imagined what she’d look like with water glistening on her naked skin. Had he known, they’d still be in the woods outside the palace.

  “If it’s late, yes. The light wakes me.”

  “Have a lot of late nights, do you?” He brushed his lips along the curve of her shoulder. She’d tied her hair up to keep it dry, giving him all sorts of new skin to explore.

  “Umm, not like this.” She gasped the last word as he tasted skin at the top of her spine. “I can feel you smiling, you know.”

  “If that’s all you can feel, I’m worried.”

  He kept her against him while he ran his hands down her lather-slick skin, tracing over her thighs, along her hips, across her stomach, up to her breasts.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Her gentle laugh shook her against him. “It’s dark, Ben.”

  She closed her hand over his renewing erection. Soapsuds and warm water intensified the intimate massage until his hoarse groans were louder than the shower. Her nipples pebbled against his fingers, tempting him to taste the sweet skin. Grace’s grip tightened, and he thrust into her hand.

  He reached around her and shut off the spray. Cool air shivered over his wet flesh.

  When she turned and groped for a towel, he pushed her against the granite wall and lifted her hips. “Wrap those gorgeous legs around me, doll.”

  Tightening his arms around her and drying his feet on the bath mat, he strode from the bathroom to the bed. Laying her in the middle of the mattress, he retrieved another condom only to drop it as the sight of her locked his muscles. Kneeling to retrieve it put her within tasting range.

  “Give that to me,” she breathed. “I’d like all your fingers free.”

  He traced the tip of his tongue up the silky skin of her inner thigh. “I don’t think I’ll need my fingers.”

  “Oh God,” she whimpered as she tangled her hands in his hair.

  Hours later, Ben woke in the dark. The chaos of the neighboring bed brought a smile. They’d used the sheets as shower towels, and then Grace had pulled them from the bed in the throes of her last orgasm.

  Mindful of not waking her, he eased himself upright and reached for his book and his glasses. He’d read until he got tired.

  After ten minutes, he abandoned the ignored page. Instead, he stared at Grace’s curves accentuated in the glow of the book light. His skin tingled, as if every nerve had reconnected. Before, the feeling had always started with his fingers wrapped through hers or maybe his lips when he kissed her. Now it originated from his center and worked its way outward. He craved her, and not only her body, though God knew it was incredible. Her laugh, her voice, her joy intrigued him.

  He wanted her heart.

  Her toes tickled up his calf. He put everything aside as she turned her drowsy gaze on him. “Can’t you sleep?”

  “No. But that’s normal,” he reassured her. “My brain wants to work on its own schedule.”

  “I know the feeling. You want to get it all done while you have the focus.”

  “Exactly.” He gave her an out because he wanted to think of her more than himself. “It makes it difficult to share space with me.”

  “Unless you share it with someone who works in the same way.”

  His heart swelled when she didn’t take the chance to escape. “It drove Noah crazy at Uni. He’s my oldest friend, and now we’re business partners on several ventures.” Ben ignored that one of the ventures was him. “His wife, Fiona, is my P.A.”

  “Not his?”

  “She said he would make her batty.” Ben was tired of talking to her shadow. “If you’re awake, could we switch on a light?”

  She complied, and he blinked in the sudden glare, shading his eyes with a pillow scented with her spicy vanilla perfume. Grace came back to his side, warming him.

  “I always thought it should be hard,” she murmured.

  “Sorry, what?” Ben rose on one elbow.

  “Oh, dear.” She muffled her embarrassed
squeal by plastering her hands over her face. She peeked through her fingers, and his chuckle grew to a laugh. “Um . . . more difficult. I always thought relationships should be more difficult.”

  “Because anything worth it doesn’t come easily.” His face heated when she waggled her eyebrows. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. Fighting for it proves you’re worthy, that the relationship is worth it.”

  “Only if both people are fighting the same battle, not waging it against each other.” Ben traced her collarbone with his finger. His lips traveled the path his fingers had made. “And you should never have to prove your worth to anyone.”

  Pushing aside how complicated this would get later, he brushed his mouth over hers. Then whispered, “Sometimes the best things are the simplest ones, doll.”

  It didn’t seem so simple the next morning as they juggled breakfast and bags and hurried through the lobby to catch the bus. After greeting their mothers, he and Grace were waylaid by every friend they’d made. The longer they talked and the more wide smiles he saw, the more Ben searched for a place to hide.

  By the time they reached their seats, Adam and Nora were muffling their laughter with their tour schedules.

  “Why do I feel like everyone on this trip knows?” Ben grumbled.

  Adam cackled.

  “You’re not helping, mate,” Ben scolded. “Doll, could you . . .”

  He trailed off as his brain shut down. She’d loosened the knot in her damp hair, and the scent of her shampoo grabbed him by the balls. He was instantly hard, hungry to taste her, fighting the urge to feel her against him. He shifted in his seat and took her hand, and Adam’s laughter shook his entire body. This time Ben closed his eyes and grinned.

  His glee faded as the bus pulled into traffic on the way to the train station. They were leaving Austria for Italy. Arriving in Italy meant they’d soon reach Paris, and then they’d go home.

  Each city brought a change. London’s tension had been replaced by Vienna’s anticipation and, if he was honest, Salzburg had brought a little worry. He needn’t have bothered. Grace kept her bags together and organized. She didn’t faff about or natter endlessly, or grizzle when he couldn’t sleep. She even had her own book light. At the gym this morning, she’d kept to a well-established routine and listened to her iPod. She didn’t invade his privacy.

  He blew out a breath and closed his eyes. His loose joints and shaking muscles had little to do with his workout, and their late arrival had nothing to do with poor time management. They’d already invaded each other’s privacy several times.

  Even with his eyes closed, he knew she was setting up her favorite distractions. The pages of her book fluttered, and she sighed. The leather seat creaked as she settled in, and then her feet tapped the floor in rhythm with whatever tune blared into her ears.

  The tapping stopped, and he opened his eyes. Next to him, she’d stilled. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling the way she did over anything with sugar in it.

  Nora extended her hand, offering him a splitter so he and Grace could share the same player. She and Adam were already using one. “It’s an extra,” she whispered.

  Even after everything he and Grace had shared, Ben was uneasy about invading this space. His curiosity won out. He tapped the pause button.

  Grace pulled her earbuds free. “Everything okay?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He plugged the splitter into place and kissed her, hard and quick. “Can we share?”

  “Okay.” She replaced her earbuds and returned to her book. Ben restarted the music, closed his eyes, and let Rimsky-Korsakov become his lullaby.

  Chapter 8

  A week later, Grace watched the Roman night fade into a bleary dawn. Outside their window, the city began to wake. Right now it was all percussion, the cymbals of garbage trucks and timpani rolls of delivery trucks. The horn section would arrive soon.

  A year ago today she’d held her mother as she’d wept over the loss of another husband.

  Because her father’s death was sudden, Sunny’s reaction had been delayed. She’d made it through the interment plans, the wake, and the funeral. She’d even gone back to work right away. Then one afternoon, Grace had come home from class to find her mother huddled in the bed, curled around her wedding picture. Unsure of what to do, Grace had panicked. Sunny had dried her tears and they’d had peppermint ice cream for dinner. Still, Grace heard her crying in her room every night for months afterward.

  In contrast, her stepfather’s death had been drawn out through a steady decline and an untold number of doctors, hospital stays, and treatments. At the end, all three of them had been exhausted. Sunny’s bravery had held until he’d taken his last breath, and then she’d crumbled. This time, older and wiser, Grace had known to let her cry. It had helped, but in the past year Grace had watched her mother shrink. This trip was a Godsend, and bless Bill’s heart for knowing exactly what they’d needed.

  But now, memories of loss intruded. Grace snuggled deeper into her robe and remembered everything about her stepfather. Which led to the faded memories of her father—his laugh, his gentle voice as he’d helped her with her math homework, the way he’d guided her hands when they’d planted flowers for her mother’s birthday.

  Lost in her thoughts, she wasn’t aware Ben was awake until his large, warm hand covered hers as he knelt next to the chair. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing him in her room, waking with him in her bed. He had skin most women would envy and his chest hair tickled her nose while she slept. Even now, relaxed, the dips and valleys of his muscles were showcased by the light filtering through the curtain.

  However, his face always captured her attention. It shaped differently for every mood and every activity. Right now the angles were softened by sleep and concern.

  “Today?”

  She nodded. “She’ll need me.”

  He stood, keeping hold of her hand as he helped her to her feet. Then he held her in an embrace that had nothing to do with sex. She relaxed against him and borrowed his strength.

  Once downstairs, they found a subdued Sunny sitting with Camille at breakfast, separated from their group. Grace took the seat next to her mother. Her frail smile broke Grace’s heart.

  “Good morning, Mama.” Grace wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders. She’d foregone her bright colors and light fabrics for gray and denim. “What do you want to do today?”

  “I want to stay in my room.” Sunny played with one of her earrings. “I want to stay in bed, cry, and remember. And eat chocolate cake.” Her voice quivered. “Bill loved chocolate cake.”

  Ben earned Grace’s gratitude when he looked up at their server. “We’d like four slices of chocolate cake, please.”

  “Cake? For breakfast?” The young woman passed a dubious eye over the table.

  “Yes. We’ll also need an urn of coffee, as well as fresh tea. Thank you.”

  The waitress stood at the table, wide-eyed and basking in his presence. Ben winked at Grace.

  “Thank you, Ben dear,” her mother said in a watery voice.

  They ate their odd breakfast in companionable silence. Ben breached the next topic as Sunny set her fork on an empty plate.

  “How about a short walk?” he asked. “The Trevi Fountain is close by.”

  Sunny shook her head. “I don’t think I—”

  “Just to the fountain,” he persisted. “We can come right back.”

  Grace looked up in time to catch the nod passing between him and Camille. She added her persuasion. “You won’t be able to rest until you get the sugar and caffeine out of your system.”

  “Okay,” Sunny sighed, “to the fountain.”

  They played the game for the rest of the day. Let’s go up the Spanish Steps to get there. Let me get a look at that plant in the gar
den. Don’t you think it would like nice under the trees at home? Camille, did you see the sculpture around the bend? I’m peckish. How about some fruit and a sandwich?

  They returned to the hotel in the mid-afternoon. Their mothers left the elevator on their floor, headed for a nap rather than a shut-in crying jag.

  Once the doors closed, Grace pulled on Ben’s shirt and stood on her toes. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she murmured before she kissed him, tears misting her eyes. “How did you know?”

  “Mum used to do it when I wasn’t well. ‘Just get out of bed and see. Take a shower. Have a little breakfast.’ After Andrew died, I did it for her.”

  They reached their room, and the door closed behind them. He moved with an ease that would have been impossible a week ago. Then, she’d thought of him as just another good-looking guy. Now, she hated the petty description. He paid attention to others around him, he was kind and funny, shy and intelligent, confident and graceful. It really was dumb luck she had literally stumbled into him.

  “I can hear you thinking,” he teased. His lashes shaded his eyes and his teeth caught his bottom lip.

  She walked to him and curved her arms around his waist, her hands under his shirt. She pushed the fabric up, baring his skin.

  “I thought you wanted to take a nap,” he said as he shrugged free of his clothes.

  “We can sleep in a minute.”

  “A minute? Gee thanks,” he snickered as he unbuttoned her blouse.