From the Beginning

by Tracy Wolff

  Leaning her head to one side, eyes still locked with his, she offered him her mouth again. He took it, and the sudden pressure of his lips on hers unleashed a maelstrom of confusion inside of her. Being with him was like finding herself again—sweet, warm and so familiar that it brought tears to her eyes—but it was also like losing herself. She wasn’t sure which of the sensations was more frightening.

  His hands weren’t steady as they skimmed up her arms, but they felt good. So good. Everywhere he touched her came to life, every brush of his fingertips brought an extra zap of intensity to the emotions already riding her hard.

  “It’s my turn to touch you,” she told him breathlessly. If this was it, she decided, if this was the only time they’d ever be able to put the past aside and love each other, she wanted to do it right.

  She started to tell him how she felt, but he silenced the words with another kiss. And then he was rolling across the bed, spinning with her, lifting her above him as his mouth swept over the curve of her breast.

  He settled her astride him gently, her knees on either side of his hips—and again it felt so right, so normal, so good, that she didn’t know how to feel. “Take me, Amanda,” he whispered. “Please. I don’t want all this pain between us anymore.”

  She paused, savored Simon’s words as much as the feel of him against her. He was right—the pain had gotten her nowhere. She had to let the past go, had to embrace the pleasure he offered her. It would be so much better than the agony that came before it.

  With that thought in her head, she raised herself over him and slowly, carefully, took him inside her.

  She rode him leisurely, sweetly, showing him with her body all the things she didn’t want to say with words. Immersed in him, in everything that arced between them with each slow glide of her body, she kept the rhythm languid, steady.

  The tension began to build in her, the ache between her thighs becoming more and more unbearable, and she could tell by his clenched fists and bowed body that Simon was feeling the same.

  And still she kept moving, pushing both of them to the brink of release. Need was a living thing within her, but she forced it back again and again, unwilling to have this one perfect moment end. Unwilling to face the reality she knew was coming for both of them. She’d waited so long for this, to connect with the only man she’d ever really love, that she wanted it to last forever.

  But the need continued to build until sweat poured from him, from her, then mingled as she leaned over him and slid soft kisses along his jaw and neck.

  “Now, Amanda!” Simon’s hands clamped on her ass like a vise. “Please, I need you. I need you now.”

  She needed him, too, needed this, and she was suddenly as desperate as he was. Giving in to the pleasure he gave her, she let Simon take control for the last frantic seconds. One powerful thrust, two, and they burned everything—past, present, future—to ash. When it was over, she scooted to the left side of the bed—Simon had always like the right—and rolled onto her side so that her back was to him. She needed a minute to think, to process, to figure out what she was going to do next.

  Simon cuddled up behind her, his arm draped over her waist and his hand cupping her breast. He felt good, really good, and part of her wanted nothing more than to stay here with him all day. All night.

  But that wasn’t what this had been about, she reminded herself. Wasn’t what she needed to be thinking about right now. Still, she gave herself a few minutes to lie there and soak up his warmth and the tenderness flowing from him to her. It had been so long since she’d been held like this that she wanted to keep it close to her heart for the weeks and months and years ahead.

  She thought about changing her mind, holding off what she was about to say, but she didn’t. Because no matter how good he felt, she knew he wasn’t good for her. Just as she wasn’t good for him. They’d had twelve years to get things right between them and they’d never been able to do it. Assuming that they could now was folly on both their parts. And she didn’t have the time or the heart to make that kind of mistake again.

  Though she had insisted to Jack she was fine, she’d known that she wasn’t. Though she’d insisted to Simon that she could find her way home on her own, she knew she would have been lost without him.

  But she was back home now—or as close to home as a woman who no longer had one could get—and it was time to face the truth. She had to get out now, while she still could. Because the longer she was around him, the more magnetic the draw between her and Simon became.

  Smart, charismatic, sexy, he’d rung her bell from the first time she’d seen him. And even after she’d broken up with him—the hardest thing she’d ever done besides bury her little girl—she’d felt an unwitting attraction. Felt herself being pulled in by that sexual and intellectual magnetism.

  Back then, she’d been strong enough to handle it. Strong enough to handle him. But now? Now she was so emotionally devastated that falling for him again would break her completely. It had been so much easier when she was angry at him for missing Gabby’s death, when she could blame him for putting the news above their little girl.

  But now that she’d seen him, now that she knew he was as broken up at losing Gabby as she was, it was a different story. Sure, he’d handled his fear of losing their little girl badly, but could she blame him when she’d fallen apart the second Gabby was gone? When eighteen months later, she still hadn’t found a way to put herself back together?

  No, she couldn’t blame him, but neither could she risk her heart—and more important, her sanity—on a man she would never be able to count on. Right now, she needed stability more than anything else. More than sex or passion or love or even friendship. She needed to know that the status quo could be maintained.

  For someone like Simon, that kind of stability was anathema. She’d been okay with that for a long time, content to simply be a blip on his radar whenever they were in the same general vicinity.

  But not now, not ever again. She wouldn’t survive losing him again, not while she was still so messed up over Gabby. Better to nip this thing in the bud than let it go any further. Better to get rid of him now, rather than spend the next few weeks waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  She felt tears bloom in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She’d cried enough in the past few days to make up for a lifetime without tears. She was done with them. Done with Simon, as much as it hurt.

  Right now her priority had to be getting well, putting her life back together. Inviting him in would do nothing but throw a huge wrench in her plans. Once she’d been willing to sacrifice anything for Simon, but no longer. She was smart enough to know that this time, both her sanity and her life were on the line.

  Sitting up abruptly, she waited until his hand had dropped away before climbing out of bed.

  “You okay?” he asked sleepily, raising his head to look at her.

  “Fine.” She headed for the bathroom, where she turned on the shower. She could smell him on her body, his scent seeping into her pores. And it was like it had been before, like it always was with them. Already, she could feel herself weakening, feel herself wanting to be with him. Just one more self-destructive impulse she wasn’t going to give in to.

  Simon opened the door just as she was ready to get in the shower, and he didn’t look sleepy anymore. His green eyes were wary as they searched her face for some clue to what was going on in her head.

  For long seconds, she stood there, completely vulnerable, as she watched him watch her. Then her common sense kicked in and she dived for the white hotel robe she’d left on the sink earlier, putting it on.

  His eyes narrowed and he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He was completely naked, but that didn’t seem to bother him—he obviously wasn’t feeling half as vulnerable as she was. “What’s wrong, Mandy?”

  “I just need a shower.”

  “Yeah? Well, can I join you?” He moved forward, started to undo the sash on her robe as
he skimmed his lips over her jawline. “I’ll wash your back—”

  “No.” She jerked away, turned the shower off and went into the bedroom. If she was going to have this talk, it wasn’t going to be in the smallest room.

  He followed her, and this time when she looked at him, he was pale beneath his tan. “Did I hurt you?” he demanded. “Was I too rough?”

  “No, it was fine.”

  “Fine?”

  Now she’d offended him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Well, how exactly did you mean it?” he demanded. “Because to be honest, I’m suddenly confused about what’s going on here.”

  SIMON COUNTED THE SECONDS, a sinking feeling in his chest, as he waited for Amanda to answer his question. When he got to twenty-five and she still hadn’t said a word, the worry coalesced into a ball of ice in the pit of his stomach.

  “Amanda?” he prompted, determined to get her to talk to him.

  “I’m tired, Simon.”

  He refrained from reminding her that they’d spent most of the day sleeping—but then again, she was so exhausted that probably hadn’t made a dent. “Do you want to take that shower? And then go back to bed? You should eat something first.”

  “I will. But I need you to leave.”

  “Okay.” He reached for his jeans, yanked them on. “I promise I won’t bother you if you let me stay. I know how much you need to rest.”

  “It isn’t that.” Her tone was low, even a little apologetic, and every instinct in his body started screaming information at him that he didn’t want to hear.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t— We can’t—”

  He started toward her, wanting to comfort her, to make whatever was going on in her head easier for her to talk about. But she turned away. Like she had when he’d offered to wash her back. Like she had when they’d finished making love and he’d wanted to hold her. When they’d been together before, she’d loved to lie in his arms for hours, talking about anything and everything that came into her mind.

  That’s when it hit him. He’d been making love to Amanda in an effort to reaffirm his feelings for her, to convince her to give the two of them another chance. She, however, had been doing the opposite. The tenderness he’d felt in her touch, the desire she’d given him like a gift, had been her way of saying goodbye.

  He didn’t want to accept it, didn’t want to believe that he was right. He crossed to her, spun her to face him so he could look into her face. What he saw there had him fighting the urge to beg.

  The truth of his realization was right there for him to see in her eyes. To feel in her body, which she held just a little apart from his despite his attempts to pull her into his arms.

  Hurt swamped him and he eased back, letting his arms drop to his sides. Anger welled up, but he shoved it back down. He wasn’t going to lose his control now, wasn’t going to let her know how much she meant to him—or how much her rejection devastated him. Again.

  He should have known better, should have realized that this was too good to be true. Amanda had done this to him before, gotten him completely wrapped up in her to the point where he wanted to confess his love for her, and then dropped him flat.

  When it had happened last time, he’d been so unprepared that he hadn’t been able to hide his shock—or his feelings for her. The humiliation had burned inside him for months. Years. This time, he wouldn’t go through that again. He wasn’t going to let her know how much she’d hurt him.

  Instead, he cocked his head and forced the easy half smile that had gotten him out of sticky situations for most of his life. He only hoped it would work for this one, too.

  “So, I guess this is it, then, huh?” Not knowing what to do with his hands, he ended up shoving them deep in his pockets so he didn’t grab on to her and beg. The thought that he could behave so desperately, so pathetically, had him drawing back. The most vulnerable part of him—the side he’d only ever shown to her—was already buried.

  “This is it,” she agreed, and he should have taken satisfaction in the way her voice trembled. But her sorrow was another knife in his gut. She kissed her fingers, pressed them to his cheek. He wanted to hang here forever, wanted these last, bittersweet moments to go on and on and on, even if she had kicked him to the curb. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet, wasn’t ready to say goodbye to everything they’d once meant to each other. Everything he’d imagined they could mean again.

  Not that he would ever admit that to her.

  But then she was pulling away, crossing to the door. Opening it and waiting for him to walk out. A silent boot in the ass that got him moving like nothing else could. He put on his pants and slid his feet into his shoes, grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head as he walked out the door without another word. He made it to the elevator at the end of the hall before he turned and looked back, expecting to see only the closed door of her hotel room.

  Instead, she was standing in the doorway, watching him with bruised eyes as the too-big robe slipped off her shoulder. Worry welled up inside him—years of habit weren’t going to be easy to break—and he waited a second for her to say or do something that would tell him she’d changed her mind. She never did and eventually the elevator doors opened. A room-service waiter got off, wheeling a cart loaded with dishes down the hall toward Amanda’s room.

  The last thing he saw before he got onto the elevator was Amanda stepping aside to let the waiter into her room and then closing the door firmly behind her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AMANDA STAYED IN BED for a day and a half after she sent Simon away. She hadn’t planned on it, hadn’t planned on being flattened so completely by doing the right thing. The only thing. But every time she tried to get out of bed, every time she told herself she needed to be doing something—anything—she started to cry. Finally she gave up and just lay there, staring at the ceiling and wondering what was happening to her. Even in the worst months, right after Gabby’s death, she hadn’t felt so unmotivated.

  So useless.

  It was more than saying goodbye to the man who had been such a huge part of her life. After all, she’d done that twice before. Once, not long after Gabby was born and she’d known that his nomadic, breeze-into-town lifestyle could no longer be for her, not when she had a daughter to think of. At the time, it had been awful. She’d still been desperately in love with him and the idea of never holding him again, never getting the chance to show that love, was horrible.

  She’d made it through, and they had forged a friendship during their daughter’s lifetime that she had valued, even if she had never been able to depend on it, or him.

  The last days of Gabby’s life had proven how reliable he wasn’t. Which was why she’d walked away from him again directly after the funeral. That goodbye hadn’t been hard—at the time, she was fueled by so much rage and sorrow that Simon had been nothing but a convenient outlet for her anger. He wasn’t the only thing she’d been angry at, just the most tangible.

  This time, though, letting him go felt different. Worse.

  Maybe because she knew this was really it.

  When Gabby was alive, she’d tied them together. While Amanda was working for For the Children, Simon had popped up in the same hot spot more than once. But now that Gabby was gone and Amanda had no plans to work in Africa or any other poverty-stricken part of the world, the connection between them had been completely severed.

  When she got out of this bed, when she went about the process of putting her life together, that would be it. She would leave Atlanta and probably never see Simon again. It had seemed like a smart idea the other day, when she’d been kicking him out of her hotel room, but now it just seemed lonely. Miserable. A mistake.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to wrap her mind around a world for her without her daughter or Simon in it. The mere thought had her breath hitching in her throat.

  That was it, she decided, looking up at the rich, cream ceiling she’d been staring at for
twenty-five hours straight. That was what hurt. Not only the knowledge that she was never going to see Simon again, but also the fact that, in saying goodbye to him, she’d said goodbye to that entire era of her life. Shut the door on everything that had happened during that time— including, she was desperately afraid, her time with her daughter.

  Turning her back on Simon felt like turning her back on everything he’d ever been to her, including the father of her child.

  She didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to let go of Gabby. Didn’t want to say goodbye to the only person she’d ever loved unconditionally. But could she hold on to one without the other? And if she did hold on to Gabby, kept her memory close, would she ever get out of this bed again?

  It didn’t seem like such a terrible way to die. To just drift away slowly, silently.

  T. S. Eliot was right, she thought randomly. This was how the world ended. How her world ended, at least. Not with a bang, but a whimper.

  Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Hadn’t it been a couple of days ago that she’d been determined to get her life back on track? Convinced she could do something that would make her matter to someone. Now she barely knew which way was up. Or even if there was an up.

  Closing her eyes, Amanda tried to embrace the idea of just giving in. Of disappearing. She didn’t want to do this anymore, didn’t want to live this life she was trapped in. Working her way back seemed too hard…

  Then again, as she stared at the back of her eyelids in this darkened room, she realized that giving up was just as bad. She’d expected it to be easy, to simply happen. Instead she was filled with a rage so deep, so intense, so fiery hot that she could barely breathe through it.

  Was this really what she wanted? she asked herself, vaguely horrified by it all. To waste away?

  And if she did, what the hell was wrong with her?

  Who was this woman she was becoming, someone who would rather give up than fight? This wasn’t the Amanda Jacobs she knew, the Amanda Jacobs who had worked so hard to be a good role model for her daughter.