she murmured against his lips, “I love when you kiss me. Anywhere. Everywhere.”
As if she’d given the golden command, he began moving down, his mouth roaming, suctioning here and there, over her ribs, her belly, around the ticklish dip of her navel. And every kiss took her that much higher, drew her that much nearer. Had her falling that much more in love.
In the dark recesses of his mind, Bishop knew he’d lost the plot. When he’d found a box of sealed condoms in the drawer where he’d always kept them, he’d sent up a prayer of thanks then had plowed on. He’d expected Laura to have ditched the contraceptives long ago, but like the wedding photo and rings, she’d left them alone. Because she couldn’t bear to touch them? Because she’d secretly wished for her husband back?
Hell, at this precise moment in time, he was way too pumped to wonder.
He’d succumbed to Laura’s wiles and, God help him, he couldn’t regret it. Particularly now as his mouth trailed an unerring course over her flat stomach and lower. When he reached those soft, moist curls, his brain stopped working altogether.
While her hips slowly rotated, he nuzzled down. After dropping a few barely there kisses on her inner thighs, he got more comfortable and, using his fingers and his tongue, exposed more of her. Her sigh of pure pleasure heightened his own, and as he made love to her with his mouth—with everything he was or had ever been—he understood that this time was beyond compare. Because it was forbidden? Or because they’d denied each other for too long? He only knew she’d never tasted sweeter and his desire for her had never been stronger.
It seemed like he’d only begun when he sensed the intensity building inside of her. Wanting to give her an experience without equal, he held her hips while his mouth covered her and he did what he knew she liked best. Her spine pushed down and she trembled, barely noticeably at first. But as the rolls of energy grew, she began to shudder and moan.
He stayed with her, adoring her fingers bunched in his hair and the series of contractions that urged him not to stop. When she was still floating down, he moved away just enough to open that foil wrapper and rolled down their protection.
When he joined her again, her eyes were closed, her head was slanted to one side and a fan of fair hair was flung over her face. Sighing, she clung to him as he eased in.
With one arm curled over her head, he gazed down at her face, more beautiful than any woman’s alive. As he moved above her, found just the right rhythm, he wanted to tell himself to go slow. Make this last. Tomorrow he might not be welcome in Laura’s life much less her bed.
As the heat of the inferno licking through his veins intensified, so too did his pace. Still, as his lips traced down her cheek and he stole another penetrating kiss, he was certain he could hold out. This was simply too good to let go yet. But then she quieted and a heartbeat later bucked beneath him, peaking again and riding another orgasmic curl. The push was too much.
Murmuring her name, concentrating on the delicious burn and how glorious she felt surrounding him, he drove in again and jumped off into the firestorm that consumed him inside and out. As white-hot flames swirled though him, Bishop held on tighter and for the first time hoped she didn’t remember too soon.
The next morning Bishop sat on the eastern porch, gazing blindly out over the hills, listening to the early morning laughter of kookaburras and wondering what the hell had possessed him last night.
What had he been thinking? Sleeping with Laura once had been a bad idea. Sleeping with her again, and again, had to be moronic. Sure, it’d felt great. Unbelievably fantastic! But that wouldn’t save him when her memory returned and she demanded to know why he’d taken advantage of the situation like he had. Never mind that she’d as good as drugged him with her words and her touches and her smiles. When the real Laura returned she wouldn’t listen to a word of it. That Laura wasn’t in love.
No more than he was.
Nothing could obliterate the words they’d exchanged during their roughest patch. The things they’d said to each other would crush the worthiest of loves. It had certainly killed his.
But love aside, clearly he still had feelings for her. He was still smitten by her scent, her voice, the cute sway of her hips whenever she walked. Laura affected him at his most basic primal level. Even when he’d sworn he never wanted to clap eyes on her again, he’d been on the verge of forcing her to hush by kissing her senseless. There’d been a time after they’d split when he thought he never wanted to sleep with another woman, the tough times had affected him that much. Truth was, until last night, he hadn’t broken the drought. Although, he’d been heading that way with Annabelle.
His elbow on the outside chair armrest, he held his brow and rubbed his temple.
What was he going to do about that? He and Annabelle weren’t in a relationship, as such. They’d seen each other a few times. They seemed to like the same things, got each other’s humor and respected each other’s space. But after what had happened between him and Laura last night …
His hand dropping from his brow, he blew out a breath.
Clearly, he wasn’t anywhere near ready to even think about getting involved with Annabelle or any other woman.
Shifting his hip, he dug the cell out of his back pocket. A moment later the recipient’s soft voice drifted down the line.
He straightened in his chair. “Annabelle. It’s Samuel.”
“Sam? I was hoping you’d phone this weekend. You’ve been busy?”
“You could say that.”
As usual, she was understanding. “There’s still most of Sunday left.”
He cursed himself. He’d never felt more like a heel, but there was no way around it.
“Look, this is probably not a conversation we should have over the phone. But …” His gaze wandered over the bush, the gazebo, the setting that used to be so much a part of his life and seemed to be again for however long. “I’m afraid this can’t wait.”
“Something’s wrong?”
“I told you I’d been married.”
“Yes … you said it ended badly.”
“Thing is, Laura, my ex, had an accident Friday.”
He imagined Annabelle’s long dark lashes batting as she took that in and then her eyes widening as she made a likely assumption. “You’re with her now?”
“I took her home from the hospital.”
“You’re … patching things up?”
“It’s complicated.” He rubbed his brow. Really, really complicated.
“But you’re together?” Her tone was less fragile now.
He answered as honestly as he could. In a sense… “Yes.”
He waited as Annabelle no doubt composed herself. But she sounded calm when she spoke. Understanding, even. She’d make someone a great wife someday.
“Then I guess there’s nothing more to say.”
“Except,
