by Ann Mcintosh
He lifted his head from her shoulder. His eyes were red, and the long, dark lashes damp, and her heart ached for him even more.
This close she could clearly see the fine lines of his scars, noticed for the first time how close to his eye one of them went. Without thought she touched it, thankful the laceration had stopped short, and he hadn’t been blinded.
“Were we in love, Elise—back then?”
The truth was hard to admit, but it was the only way to help him move forward.
“Yes, we were. Very much, although I held back as much as I could, too frightened to give in to it completely. You wanted us to make a life together, and we were to discuss how we would move forward after you came back. You said you’d wait and see where I would be doing my residency before looking for a job, because you wanted me to go wherever I wanted, rather than follow you.”
His gaze searched hers, and she held it effortlessly, needing him to see she was willing to tell him whatever he wanted to know.
“Was Jeevan planned?” He hesitated a beat, then continued, “I mean, we’re both doctors. It’s not as though we didn’t know where babies come from.”
That made her smile, just a little, as she shook her head. “Not planned, but not avoided, either. We were in Algonquin Park, and one of our bags fell out of the canoe and got swept away. My birth control pills were in it, and we both knew the possible consequences but didn’t take any other precautions.”
It had been, she’d realized long after, the beginning of capitulation on her part, the start of admitting how much she loved him. But she hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him, and that, as much as anything else, had intensified her grief.
His gaze turned inward for a moment, then it sharpened back on her, his expression one of regret—sadness.
“I wish I could remember it all. I wish I had been there for you, and for Jeevan. Knowing I can’t go back doesn’t lessen the regret and the guilt.”
“I know.” Unable to tame the impulse to touch him, she pressed her palm to his cheek, as she had so many times all those years ago, the nostalgia of it almost too much to bear. “But neither of those will help you now. Look to the future, rather than pining for a past that’s long gone.”
As if by instinct, he twined his fingers around hers and turned his head to kiss the inside of her wrist. Elise’s breath caught in her throat at the tender sensation, so achingly familiar.
When he looked back at her, his eyes were even darker, slumberous, as if he, too, recognized the connection to the past, although she knew he didn’t.
Never could.
But before that thought could take root and cause her to pull away, he leaned closer and laid his lips on hers. There was no attempt at mastery or coercion, both of which would have caused her to resist.
Instead, it was a gentle salute, a question and a subtle seduction, all in one. His mouth was firm and warm and intensely exciting, drawing out within her all her desire, the longing she’d been wrestling with all day. And as his lips moved softly over hers, it was like slipping into one of the dreams she still had about him, where they laughed and loved, expressing the passion that had burned so bright between them.
The need to be with him, even just one more time, was too strong to resist. So, instead of drawing away, she looped her arms around his neck and drew him in closer, deepening the kiss.
She wasn’t sure how Rohan would react. He had no way of knowing, as she did, how much pleasure they had found in each other before, the perfect way they melded, the satisfaction they could achieve. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he had set her aside, think it a step too far.
But he didn’t.
And anticipation turned to bliss as he returned her embrace and took over.
* * *
Just a kiss. One kiss more, and then I’ll stop.
But those were lies he told himself, because he didn’t want to stop.
Ever.
And Rohan kept kissing Elise, sinking deeper and deeper in the rushing passion swirling around them.
Sweet. She tasted sweet, the flavor unlike any he’d encountered before, but more intoxicating than twelve-year-old rum.
The sensation of her body against his was almost too sublime to be real.
They fit together perfectly, aligning as though made just for this purpose.
For each other.
For loving.
He shifted, distantly aware of the albums sliding off his lap onto the floor, and urged her to straddle his thighs. Without hesitation she nimbly complied, and he groaned into her mouth as she settled over him. Her nipples pressed into his chest, even through the layers of their clothing, and the crux of her thighs against his erection generated mind-blowing friction.
And still they kissed, mouths slipping against each other, tongues tangling together.
He didn’t know how far she wanted to go, or when she’d tell him to stop. All he knew was he would make love to her as much, and for as long, as she’d let him.
When he slid his lips along the line of her jaw, she tipped her head back, offering the long line of her throat, and he didn’t hesitate to comply with her silent request. At the first touch of his mouth on her neck she moaned, low and sweet, and shivered, the sensation of her pleasure traveling through her and into his hands.
His fingers moved restlessly against her back, wanting to dip under her clothes, but he was unwilling to take the chance to do anything to make her retreat. With his pulse racing, breath sawing in and out of his chest, he kept nibbling, licking and sucking at her throat, reveling in the passionate sounds she made and the way her hands clutched at his arms.
Elise leaned back so suddenly he was taken by surprise, and his heart missed a beat as he feared she’d had enough. Then she reached down and grasped the hem of her sweater and pulled it off over her head.
Transfixed, Rohan stared at the bounty of her breasts, clad only in a lacy bra, peachy nipples clearly visible under the sheer fabric. His hand trembled as he used his index finger to trace along the curved edge of the cup, and she gasped softly, goose bumps breaking out across her chest and arms. When he dipped beneath the lace and touched one puckered areola, she shivered again, and a rush of color stained her skin, rising up into her throat.
Entranced, Rohan slid his hand across to the other side, repeating the teasing caress. The contrast of his darker skin against her lighter one was sublime, as was the softness of her flesh beneath his finger. Heat rose along his spine and filled his belly as the desire between them flared even hotter.
He was taken by surprise when she reached back and undid her bra, sliding it down her arms so she sat before him bare to her waist.
He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how he ached for her, but his voice had deserted him, unable to function in the storm his need created within.
Her hips moved against him, making him groan her name, and when she cupped her breasts, offering them to him, and he bent to take one nipple between his lips, he knew himself lost.
And somewhere at the back of his mind, he hoped never to be found again, if it meant returning to the bleak existence he’d been living just the day before.
There was no way to measure how long he spent lavishing attention on her sensitive flesh. It could have been hours, or minutes. He didn’t care. Time had no meaning. All that was important was the way she trembled and moaned, her hands on the back of his head, holding him there.
But then she lifted his head so as to kiss him again, and again, pulling up the back of his shirt, obviously wanting no more barriers between them.
As she broke the kiss to remove it, a cold finger of fear trickled down his spine.
His body wasn’t as it had been all those years ago, when she’d first known him. Now it was scarred, pitted with the evidence of the accident and the operations needed to put him back together.
It had never mattered to him before, but now embarrassment made him want to cover himself, so she, who had known him whole, wouldn’t see what he’d become.
“Elise...”
But it was too late. Her darkened gaze wandered over his body, and her fingers trailed across his belly, chest and shoulders, seeking and caressing each raised ridge, mark and scar. Just as she had touched his face, tracing the passage of his physical injuries, as though reading them like braille.
When her eyes met his, she must have seen his shame and fear, because her lips, so full and lush from his kisses, lifted into a gentle smile.
“You’re still beautiful,” she said softly. “And I want you.”
Then she slid off his lap to stand in front of him, holding out her hands.
There was a dreamlike quality to the moment, which had him putting all caution aside and standing to take her outstretched hands. Turning, she led him down the corridor and into a dimly lit bedroom, which smelled like her.
Far in the back of his mind were all the worries, the questions arising from what they were doing.
Was she just lost in nostalgia, forgetting the present? Would she compare him to what he used to be, and find him wanting? Or regret this impulsive, passionate encounter? Tomorrow, would she want him gone, because they’d given in to lust instead of being sensible and thinking only of their son and his reactions?
Rohan tried to find the right words to ask all those questions, to find out if she was sure about what they were doing, but Elise turned to pull him close, and everything fled his mind.
Except her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DEEP INSIDE, ELISE knew she shouldn’t allow herself to fall into fantasy, but it was impossible not to accept and welcome the surreal quality of once more loving Rohan.
She had never tried to forget him over the years, feeling that to do so would be a betrayal of all they’d shared, an insult to him and their son. There had been times when she’d believed it would be best to let his memory fade, like the old photographs in their album, but she could never quite achieve it.
And at night sometimes he came to her in her dreams. Then she would awaken with a familiar ache around her heart, and physical frustration as her companion for the rest of the day.
Even now her head stumbled over the thought of him being alive and in her arms, and she found it simpler to believe it a lucid, arousing figment of her imagination. Not even the sight of his scars brought her back to her senses. Instead, they filled her with tenderness, and gratitude for his survival.
It made it easier to be bold, demanding. To tell and show him what she wanted, and to revel in the perfection of his response and attentions.
Easier, too, to put aside questions and doubts.
This moment might never arise again, and Elise refused to let it pass without making the absolute best of it.
She turned on the lamp beside the bed, wanting to see him, as well as touch. He stood just inside the door, his expression dazed, but the dark fire in his eyes was thrillingly familiar and grew even hotter as she took off the rest of her clothes.
Then she lay on the bed and said, “Aren’t you going to undress?”
He didn’t reply and didn’t take his eyes off her as he swiftly removed what he had on. When the last garment fell away, Elise held out her arms. Without hesitation he came to her, embracing her as though never to let go.
There. There. At last.
She pulled him in as tightly as she could, wrapping arms and legs around him, almost in tears at the feel of being skin to skin with him, as his scent inundated her head. Her heartbeat, already racing, quickened, and her body trembled as jagged shards of arousal fired through her system.
They kissed, and for Elise it was as though the intervening years hadn’t existed, the sensations so familiar she was thrown back to the time when she was his love, and he was hers. And she allowed herself to forget the pain and heartbreak, concentrating only on the now and the echoes of then.
It may have been a long time, but she still knew how and where to touch him, the muscle memory intact. Running her fingers down the valley of his spine made him shiver, low sounds of pleasure flowing from his lips into her mouth. And as they shifted, twisting against each other, she found the spot, just beside his hip bone, and made him jerk in reaction.
Yet it was, in a sense, poking the bear, as his previously leisurely lovemaking morphed into a dedicated campaign to drive her wild.
He’d always been a deliberate lover, slow of hands, tender of touch, but now he seemed determined to stretch his caresses out until she lost control. She arched and stretched, mewls of delight and excitement breaking unfettered from her lips as he tasted and explored her, as though intent on learning her body’s every secret.
He lingered for a long time over her stomach, his tongue tracing back and forth across her skin, the heat from his mouth making her bow up with the promise of what came next. Opening her eyes, she looked down and watched in rapt fascination, wanting to have a visual memory of the moment.
Then she realized what he was doing, and tears threatened. Beneath the tender, erotic trail were the stretch marks she’d been left with after giving birth to Jeevan.
As though sensing her regard, he lifted his gaze to hers, and in it she saw the same pleasure, desire and sense of loss she felt deep inside. It made the moment sweeter, hotter as his lips drifted lower...
Everything slowed for a moment, and at the first soft touch of his lips between her thighs, she cried out, her need suddenly building, her body tightening. His hold on her grew firmer, his sole focus seeming to take her to the brink of insanity and then ease her back, letting her catch her breath before beginning again.
She heard herself first pleading, then demanding, and then begging for completion. But when it came it was like a lightning strike, taking her by surprise, sending sharp currents of almost unbearable ecstasy over and through her, so she wept at the power.
Shifting up on the bed, he held her until the final tremors of her orgasm ceased, then he lifted her chin to look deep into her eyes.
“Thank you,” he said.
But before she could ask him for what, he was kissing her again, and the swift rise to desire began once more.
This time she wasn’t letting him take the lead, and she set about arousing him as thoroughly as he had her. When they were young, he used to like her to take charge whenever she wanted, and it seemed that hadn’t changed. He didn’t stop her as she rolled him onto his back and began her own form of loving torture.
Finally, he twined his fingers into her hair and gave a gentle tug.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to lose control.”
She heard it in his tone, his accent thickening, his already deep voice little more than a growl, and it made her smile. Working her way up his body, she planted kisses at random intervals, watching the goose bumps feather up over his skin, pleased with the effect.
She straddled his thighs, her gaze taking in the ruddy tone staining his cheeks, the tension evident in his posture. Both face and body were different—older, scarred, battered—yet he was still Rohan, her lover.
Her love.
In that moment she made the choice to think of him that way, even though she knew there would be adjustments to be made in the morning, realities to be faced.
It was simpler, since he didn’t remember her and didn’t have the same battles to fight. She was fine with that—glad of it—and tonight was just for her.
Not for Jeevan, or even for Rohan.
Just for her.
Her last chance to feel young again, and in love. To feel as though the rest of her life stretched before her, too long to contemplate the ending. The way she’d felt the last time they’d been together and hadn’t ever since.
She shifted over him, took him deep, gasping at the sublime sens
ation, lost in the passion and the love flowing in her veins. Lost, perhaps, just a little in the past, too, although she kept her eyes open so she could watch his face tighten, his eyelids droop, as he surrendered to her lovemaking.
Rohan held her hips, helping her rise and fall, letting her set the pace. This time she felt it coming, the orgasm teasing her as it built, making her frantic.
“Elise...”
She knew the sound of her name, said just that way, was a warning. Rohan was close, trying to hold off, for her sake.
He reached between her thighs, his thumb seeking, finding her clitoris, and with a touch, he sent her skyrocketing, and immediately soared with her.
She pitched forward, boneless, onto his chest, and he caught her in his arms. Rolling to one side, he struggled with the sheet and comforter, finally getting it out from under their bums so he could pull it up to cover them.
Neither spoke, and he turned off the light, leaving them in the shifting shadows of moonlight on snow coming in through the drapes. It was a companionable silence, and in it Elise came to peace with what had happened. No regrets. Although it had been mind-blowing, it had also been a one-off.
Being the only one mired in the memories of the love they’d shared, she had no urge to make Rohan feel sorry for her, or as though his relationship with Jeevan was dependent on them being together.
No. Tonight really had been just for her—for sentiment, and for pleasure. For one more sweet memory to savor.
But as she dozed off, sadness crept close, and she turned away from the warmth of Rohan’s arms, as though not to get used to the comfort she found in them.
* * *
Rohan listened to Elise’s breathing deepen as he lay beside her, wide awake and wondering if her turning away was an omen of things to come.
It wouldn’t surprise him if it was. He’d seen the struggle she’d gone through today, coming to terms with him being alive, accepting he was—no matter the capacity—back in her life once more.