Forgotten Lullaby (17 page)

 

E
MMA LET HER HEAD
drop back as Grant took possession of her, body, mind and soul. His kisses sent her into bliss, his hands caressed and loved and stoked her fire, his hunger a need she wanted to fill, again and again and again. In the far recesses of her mind, a tiny voice said she should have told him about her permanent memory loss, but the raw heat burning between them consumed her logic and the splendor of his lovemaking doused her worries. There would be time for talk later. After she'd sated his desire.

And hers.

She tore at his clothes, hungry to feel his bare chest with her fingers, and reveled in the way he caressed her breasts through her clothes. His hands cupped her bot
tom, pulling her into his arousal, and she felt him hard and hot and boldly pushing against her. She cradled him in her thighs and he moaned, sliding his hands up to remove her dress. She raised her arms, closing her eyes when he tossed the satin to the floor, and she felt his hands and mouth touching her bare shoulder and neck.

“You're so lovely,” he said. “Look at me. Emma. I want you to see how much I love you.”

She opened her eyes and saw him feasting on her with his eyes, devouring every inch of her with his hot wanton looks, and she suddenly felt wanton and wicked and beautiful. He cupped her breasts over the lacy blue bra and then, with a flick of his fingers, unsnapped the front clasp and sent the bra falling to the floor. Her small round breasts ached for him, her nipples hardened to twin peaks of need. A sexy smile of self-satisfaction lit his handsome face. “You do want me, don't you, Emma?”

She nodded, moved beyond reason.

He touched her nipples with his thumbs, slowly rotating the peaks until she moaned. “Say it,” he whispered. Then he licked his finger and brought it back to one nipple, teasing it mercilessly.

She gasped. “I want you, Grant.”

His breath hissed out, a guttural sound of male want that sent chills skating over her body. Then he brought his mouth to her nipple and licked, first one, then the other, until her belly burned with arousal and her legs quivered. He braced her back with his hand and dipped his head to suckle the tips, making loud sweet hungry sounds that made her swell with need. Then he rained kisses up and down her abdomen, his tongue flickering at the edges of her garter, nipping at the seam of her panties near her heat, then dove beneath the edges to
tease her inner thighs. One finger slid inside her, tormenting her with long slow strokes, and her legs gave way, tremors of passion rocking through her.

He scooped her into his arms, tore off her garter and hose, then shucked his slacks and briefs in one quick motion. He was strong, his bronzed body a picture of virility, like a Roman soldier bared for the trusting eyes of his woman, and she reached out to draw him near. She threaded her fingers through his hair, then found him with her hands and nearly came apart in his arms when she felt his hot flesh swell in her hands.

“Emma, I don't know how long I can last,” he whispered in a rough voice. “And you're so ready.”

She cupped his buttocks and dug her fingernails into his skin, pulling him closer. “I know, Grant. I need you.”

He lowered his head, pushed her thighs apart and tasted her with his tongue, the sweet wonderful sounds of hunger he whispered making her convulse with pleasure. Then he rose above her, teasing her softness with the strength of his manhood. She groaned and felt the fine tremors of satisfaction lapping at her.

“I love you, Emma.” He lowered his mouth to hers, parted her lips with his tongue, tantalizing her breasts with his fingers, then slipped into her. He said what he wanted from her in such a husky lust-filled voice that the fiery sensations stirred within her middle. The fire rose to a crescendo, rocking through her with the most intense pleasure she could ever imagine. And just before she cried out his name and he came inside her, she told him she loved him.

Making love to Emma once had only whetted his appetite for more. Like an imprisoned man suddenly set free, Grant felt exalted and so damn humble he didn't know what to say. She'd said she loved him. Whether she'd remembered any part of their past life or not, he didn't know. And he was afraid to ask, afraid to break the closeness their silent words of intimacy had forged.

They made love again and again during the night, and now with early-morning sunlight streaming through the lacy sheers and Emma lying in his arms, the soft weight of one breast in the palm of his hand, he didn't think he'd ever be completely sated. She murmured something unintelligible, her sleepy eyelids barely fluttering open as she reached for him and drew him into the erotic sanctity of her bosom. He lay in her embrace, his head nestled against her warm flesh. He stroked the delicate skin of her thighs, mentally wincing when he contacted the scar she'd been so reluctant to reveal to him.

Tenderness welled inside him, and he rained kisses in a fiery path down to her belly, the curve of her hip and over the puckered skin. He instantly felt her stiffen. Her hands dug into his hair and she pleaded with him
to stop. “No, let me love you,” he whispered. “I need you, Emma.”

She whimpered, but he brought his hands up and covered her fingers with his, rubbing his tongue across her sensitive skin and flicking it lower until he tasted the heady sense of her need. She made a soft sound, half plea to stop, half plea to end the torture he'd only begun. But he took his time, loving her, letting her know with his intimate touches and his whispered words, with his fingers and his tongue, how erotic he found her body.

Her hips bucked upward as he drove his mouth against her, her sweet feminine scent spiraling through his nerve endings, exciting him into a hardness only she could fulfill. And when she cried out her release, her body quivering with passion, he rose to look at her. She was awake now, the pupils of her eyes soft and dazed with longing, and he smiled with a male satisfaction that swelled in his manhood. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth as if embarrassed, and he instantly nipped at it with his mouth, plunging his tongue into her mouth, letting her taste her own desire and feed his. Her fingernails scraped his shoulders, her hands moved down his back to cup his buttocks. Finally one hand closed around him, and he couldn't stop the guttural groan that erupted from deep within him.

She smiled, her eyes raking over him as wickedly as his tongue had taken her body, then she pressed him over onto his back. He caught her hands and kissed her fingers, sucking on the tips as she lowered her head and flicked a tongue over his nipple. The ends of her silky hair tickled his chest and he sucked in a harsh breath, battling for control. Then she delved lower, into his na
vel, then lower still, until her tongue touched the tip of his manhood.

His legs quivered, his hips jerked up in primal response, and her breath whispered erotically against the juncture of his thighs. “Emma…”

“I told you earlier I wanted you,” she said in a husky edgy voice that reminded him of the first time they'd made love. Then he lost all coherent thought as she buried her head against him and loved him with her tongue. Her hair whispered against his belly, her fingers teased the hair on his legs and groped his thighs, holding him still for her pleasure, and her heated sighs of passion turned him on as much as the act itself.

The warm wetness of her mouth cradling him inside, the flicker of her tongue, the sweet wantonness of her hunger almost drove him over the edge. And when he thought he would burst in mindless pleasure, she lifted her head and moved above him, straddling his thighs. He groaned as he filled her, saw her eyes mellow and close as she rotated her hips and took the full length of him. Unable to resist touching her breasts, he rolled her erect nipples with his fingers until she cried out and rocked herself harder and faster, accepting him thrust for thrust as she strained around him. He slid one finger down and stroked the sensitive nub between her legs, and she threw her head back and cried his name.

He bucked upward, filling her until she whimpered with pleasure, until he was lost inside her. Her body quivered again with the strength of her release, then she collapsed on top of him, her breathing erratic, the strands of her golden hair draping over his chest like silk.

 

H
AD MAKING LOVE
with Grant always been this cataclysmic? And emotional? With no memory to compare
it to, it was as if this was their first time. Blinking back the moisture in her eyes, Emma stroked the dark hair on his chest, traced circles over his hard flat stomach, drinking in the heady scent of him and their lovemaking on his skin. If they'd had problems before their marriage, she was sure they could have used their lovemaking to solve them. She'd never known or even thought sex could be such a splendid experience, so totally enthralling that she could forget the dangers around her, but the past twelve hours had proved otherwise.

Only the bright slivers of sun washing the room brought her back to reality. She needed to tell Grant about her visit to the doctor. She hoped the intimacies they'd shared through the long soulful night would enable him to bear the news. For a fleeting second she contemplated lying, keeping the truth to herself. But that wasn't an option. Whether or not she remembered falling in love and marrying this man, she knew she was falling in love with him again. And she owed him the truth. They would deal with it together.

“Grant?” she whispered.

His reply was long in coming, and he turned toward her, nuzzling his morning beard against her cheek before he answered. “Yeah?” Even as he spoke, one large hand covered her breast, teasing her senses and momentarily making her forget what she wanted to say.

She ran her toe up and down his muscled calf. “That was wonderful.”

His chuckle tickled her neck, the hairs on his chest brushing against her arm and side tantalizingly. “Baby, it was so good I don't know if I'm going to be able to walk for a while.”

Emma smiled, secretly pleased to hear him sound so content. “Well, we could stay here until you're feeling better.”

“If we stay here, I'm gonna love you again.” He pulled her hand to show her how easily he could reach excitement again.

She swallowed, her own impulses rising in response. “Your body is heavenly.”

He chuckled again and put his tongue in her ear. “And yours is like heaven and hell mixed together. Wonderful and fiery and hot and sinful at the same time.”

Touched again by his bedroom voice, she turned and looped her arms around his neck. He slid his hands over her breasts, cupping her, then lower to her buttocks and pulled her into the cradle of his thighs, gently making circles on her hips with his fingers.

She looked at him. His blue eyes were gleaming, his smile was wicked and wonderful, and his hands danced erotically across her body. “I need to tell you something,” she murmured, praying the time was right.

“Yeah, like we were meant for each other,” he said.

Smiling, she wiggled her hips, a shiver rippling up her spine when he swelled and surged against her thigh. “I do think we were meant for each other,” she said in a soft voice.

He stilled, the teasing in his expression mellowing as he studied her face. She realized she'd given him a flicker of hope and chided herself for her wording.

“Grant, I saw the doctor yesterday.”

Tension tightened his muscles, then worry ripped the earlier contentment off his face completely. “Was it a checkup, or weren't you feeling well?”

“I asked him to run tests to find out if my memory
loss was permanent.” She squeezed his shoulders, willing him not to pull away. “I was going to try hypnosis if it was psychological.”

The look in his eyes frightened her almost as much as his silence. “And?”

She kissed his cheek, then his lips with as much feeling as she could render without bursting into tears, then curled her hands into his hair. He still hadn't moved. She forced herself to look into his face and watch his reaction. “He did X rays and showed them to me. He said it…the amnesia is physical. Hypnosis is out.”

The barest of nods was his only response. Emma exhaled shakily.

“So he'll do more tests later?”

The strained sound of his voice made her wind her legs around his, an unconscious move to keep him from bolting. “He may, but he says most of the swelling around my brain has receded. He…” She paused, begging him to understand. “Grant, the news isn't good. He doesn't think I'll ever regain my memory.”

 

T
HE AMNESIA WAS
permanent.

Grant's body fell slack as the realization sunk in. The arousal he'd had only moments earlier disintegrated, and his breath hissed out between clenched teeth that had dug into his jaw so hard he tasted blood.

The last twelve hours, the incredible lovemaking, Emma's initiative in making dinner and hotel reservations, her announcement of love—all had come on the heels of her discovery. Why? Because she felt sorry for him?

He searched her face, where the elation she'd felt earlier had transformed once again into concern. Had
she made love to him out of some kind of pity? Or misplaced loyalty?

No, she said she loved him. But how could she when she didn't remember that love or anything about their past?

“Grant?”

The worry in her voice jerked him out of his jumbled thoughts, and he saw the questions haunting her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I know it's not the news you wanted to hear, and I know how much you wanted my memory to return.”

He realized he'd completely let go of her when her hands caught his and she squeezed his palms. “Please don't pull away,” she urged in a pained voice. “What we shared last night was…was so wonderful, Grant. I know I don't remember our past, but—”

“You knew last night that you never would,” he said, anguish lacing his voice.

Tears blinded her eyes and he could see the pity in them. “Yes, I knew,” she said in a voice edged with sorrow.

“Why didn't you tell me then, Emma?” He jerked to a sitting position. Anger, despair and the reality of what he'd lost all converged on him, colliding with his worst fears. Emma would never remember their love, would never be able to feel the same about him as he did her, and without her memories how could she forgive him for causing this psycho to hurt her? Like sand slipping through an hourglass, he was losing the love of his life. And it was all his fault, because someone blamed him for Faye Simmons's death. “Did you go through all this…just to soften the blow?”

She drew back, pulling the covers up to her neck, covering the secrets of her body she'd given to him so
wantonly only minutes earlier. He silently cursed himself for putting that hurt look on her face, but he didn't understand how she could have slept with him without telling him.

“I told you I wanted to be with you,” she said, her voice quivering. “And I meant it, Grant.”

Then she whipped the covers off the bed and stood, trembling, and looking so damn vulnerable his heart contracted. “See, I told you I was afraid I'd disappoint you. I guess I was right.” Then she wrapped the covers around her tightly, rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door. He lowered his head and cradled it in the palms of his hands, the test results and the guilt over the danger around Emma all crashing down on him. He couldn't be upset with her; hell, it was his fault she'd been hurt, his fault she didn't remember him or their marriage or their baby, his fault he was losing her. Seconds later he heard the shower running and what he could only imagine was the sound of her crying, and he felt like the biggest heel in the world.

But how could they make their marriage work if his wife couldn't even remember saying their vows?

 

E
MMA EMERGED
from the bathroom, knowing her swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks were a testament to her emotional outpouring. She couldn't blame Grant for his reaction—she'd been in shock when she'd first heard the news about her amnesia—but after their night of passionate lovemaking, she'd hoped they could weather the truth together, not allow it to drive them apart.

He was completely dressed, holding his keys in his hands, his face a mask of remorse when he spotted her. “I'm sorry, Emma,” he said in a voice so controlled
she could tell it was painful. “I need some time to digest this.”

She instantly remembered the way she'd gasped his name in the throes of ecstasy and couldn't meet his eyes. “We'd better go home and check on Carly,” she said.

He nodded, his movements stiff and jerky and his comment about the sex being so good he'd be unable to walk flitted through her mind. Her hands itched to touch him, but she curled them around her purse straps. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he opened the door, and she wanted to throw him down and ravish him until he laughed and called her name in mindless ecstasy again and again, until he agreed that the past no longer mattered.

But he wore a solemn tight-lipped expression as he politely escorted her to the car, his flat gaze prolonging the agony as they climbed in and drove home. His silence was like a sword wedged between them, cutting through the trust and affection they'd built over the past few days.

And when she reached out for his hand as they walked up the driveway to their house, he silently pulled away. She felt like crying again. Somehow she had to make him see that it didn't matter if she remembered their love before, because she was in love with him now. And the future was all that mattered.

 

T
HE PAST TWENTY-FOUR
hours had been hell, Grant decided when he got out of bed and showered the next morning. He hadn't been able to return to the guest room, but he hadn't been able to make love to Emma again, either. He'd waited until she fell asleep, then slid
in beside her and listened to her breathing while he tried to figure out how to handle his emotions.