Tell Me a Truth (The Story Series Book 5) (6 page)

“Sadly, yes.” A coy smile spread across my lips as I slipped from his embrace. “We are. So, goodnight, Caleb. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

He groaned and tugged me close again, allowing me the familiar rush from his dominance. “One more,” he growled, planting a scorching kiss on my mouth. His lips were hot, and I saw his eyes roll back a little before his lids fluttered shut. Oh, yes, he was definitely turned on by the teasing. Satisfaction made my heart beat faster.

I kissed him, then stepped back, grinning wide as I waved goodnight.

“Sweet dreams,” he called out, a foxy grin on his lips.

I walked into my room. Between my legs I was melty and pulsing. How long would we have to wait to have sex?

A week? More?

Once alone, I sat on the bed, exhaling a sigh of tension. I tried to regulate my heartbeat by taking many deep breaths. I hadn’t been this excited in months, not since I was pregnant and on our honeymoon, actually. Maybe I was more turned on now, because of the anticipation of what was to come.

Standing up, I went to the bathroom and brushed my hair nervously, then washed my face, the cool water quenching the heat in my cheeks. I padded back to the bedroom, still off-kilter from the kiss. I looked at the nightstand and paused. The baby monitor. Where was it? Oh, crap. I’d left it on the terrace because Caleb and I had been out there watching the sunset after I’d put Charlotte to bed.

I needed to make sure I paid extra attention to Charlotte and her needs and didn’t get lost in Caleb and his charms. Shaking my head as if to clear my brain, I slid the glass door open in my bedroom. The night air was too humid for November.

It was only a few paces around the wraparound terrace toward the outdoor table. On my way I had to pass by the windows of the guest room, where Caleb was sleeping.

The curtains, heavy white things, were drawn, except for a six-inch gap. As I passed by, I spotted him on the bed.

I crept to the side of the window that was covered by the curtain so I could peek at him. I smiled to myself, thinking about how I’d spied on his brother. Maybe I was officially a voyeur. Or maybe only when it came to the King brothers.

But unlike when I saw Colin showering at the lake house, I didn’t feel bad about watching Caleb. I needed to glean every detail about this new version of my husband.

And at the moment, I discovered his sinewy, tanned body on the bed, naked. He’d wasted no time in taking off his white linen shirt and jeans.

And he was jerking off. Furiously, it looked like. Another surge of triumph sliced through me, followed by a rush of pure liquid heat.

His big hand was tugging and pulling at his cock. The look on his face, desperate, with a slight snarl, made me lick my lips. Any worry that I had about the amnesia’s effects on his libido vanished. His straight, perfect cock looked deliciously the same as before. But of course it would, I mused. Why would
that
be any different? I nearly giggled out loud at the absurdity of my thoughts.

I studied his body, trying not to stare only at his erection. He was still muscular, although not as much as before. I didn’t mind, though, and watched the cords of his right forearm tense as he fisted himself.

I bit my lip. Caleb had jerked off for me plenty of times, but usually while I was underneath him. Or on the bed in front of him, putting on a show of my own. Now, I was watching him do it in private, and it was electrically charged, erotically sexy.

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth, a perfect O. From past experience, I knew he was about to orgasm, and with one long tug, he did, spurting in streams onto his stomach. My mouth was suddenly very moist and my tongue wet my lips again.

On tiptoes, I moved away from the window and grabbed the baby monitor. I hurried to check on Charlotte and slipped into bed.

I had my own needs to attend to.

B
ack when I was pregnant
, before Caleb went missing, I’d had fantasies of the two of us going out with the baby. How we’d look as a family, all the fabulous things we’d do together. Routine things, like shopping and picnicking and stopping by the bookstore.

Most of all, being happy.

Today was the closest I’d come to that fantasy yet. We went to my bookstore. I hadn’t been since Caleb had returned, and I wanted to say hello. I didn’t have any business there because Sarah and Gina had taken over the day-to-day affairs. But I guess I wanted Caleb to see what I’d built—and I wanted to show my family off to everyone.

Caleb was wearing preppy-looking plaid shorts and a white polo shirt, and I was in a thin, light-blue cotton dress. It was a surprisingly sporty style for me, but comfortable. Even though it was November, a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, it was hotter than ever in Florida. We looked like a family headed to a summer lawn party at the Kennedy compound on Cape Cod.

Sarah and Gina glanced up as we walked in.

“Emma! Girl, you look amazing. Your skin’s glowing. And I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time.” Gina beamed and hugged me. “And look at this little cutie.”

Caleb, who was navigating the stroller, paused so Gina could fawn over Charlotte.

“You always dress her in such cute outfits.” She patted my daughter, who was covered in floral overalls with a peplum ruffle and a pair of pink sunglasses.

“Hey, I’m Caleb.” He extended a hand toward Gina. The flash of shock in her brown eyes reminded me that some people either didn’t know Caleb had lost his memory or they thought he was magically healed by simply returning home.

“I’m Gina,” she responded graciously.

I put my hand on Caleb’s bicep and squeezed. He grinned down at me and licked the side of his mouth. The memory of last night—both his kiss and what I’d seen from the window—was still fresh in my mind. Every time I looked at his hands or his lips, I flashed hot.

“Caleb, why don’t you and Charlotte go pick out a book, so we have something to read to her during our picnic. Children’s books are over there.” I pointed to the far corner of the store.

As Caleb and Charlotte ambled away, Gina exhaled. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look so shocked. Sarah and Laura told me about Caleb and his memory, but when I saw the three of you together, I thought everything was back to normal. You all look so perfect together.”

“It’s okay. I’m actually happy to hear you say we look normal. Because we’re anything but right now.” I laughed sadly.

The bells on the front door jingled. A few tourists with maps wandered in.

“I’ll go help them.”

I nodded as Gina hurried away and then went to the counter, where Sarah was making tea.

“Want some?” Sarah asked, pointing to the kettle.

I shook my head. “We’re having a picnic at Lake Eola. I put in an order at that new gourmet market and we’re headed there to pick up the food.”

I babbled on about the sandwiches I’d ordered until Sarah cut me off.

“How is it going, truly, Emma? How are you holding up? I called you and texted you, but you haven’t responded.”

I swallowed. “I sent you a text.”

“It was only two words.
I’m fine
. That’s not a decent response. I was trying to give you a little space, though, before coming over and demanding details.”

I heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. That’s the answer. Don’t. Know. It’s difficult. I still can’t believe any of this. Amnesia? Who has amnesia? It’s like a fucking Harlequin Presents plot from the 1980s.”

Sarah lifted her eyebrows, shrugged, and then reached for her tea. “You always did enjoy that trope. You thought the sex scenes in those were better than modern-day romances.”

I shot her a withering glance.

“What? I’m trying to get you to smile. Jesus. It could be worse, Emma. Your husband is back. That’s what you wanted. He’s healthy, at least physically. And, yeah, there are some issues with his memory. But you two seem to be getting along. I saw him sneak a glance at your cleavage a few minutes ago. It’s kind of like old times, getting to know one another all over again.”

I smirked and couldn’t help but think of the way he’d kissed me the previous night, the way his eyes had dragged from my mouth down to my breasts, and the corresponding heat it had inspired between my legs. How he’d sounded desperate for me. How I’d watched him jerk off.

God, I was vulgar. My husband hadn’t been home a week, and I’d already had filthy fantasies about him. My nipples tightened against my thin lace bra at the thought.

“Yeah. I guess we’re getting along.” I tapped my foot.

“Have you guys done it?”

I shook my head, now fighting a grin. “The therapist wants us to go slow. Really slow. So we’ve only held hands and kissed.” I paused and lowered my voice. “It was an excellent kiss. With lots of tongue. I’m tingly thinking about it.”

I didn’t tell her about watching him. Instead, I bit my lip.

Sarah chortled and pointed at me. “Do we have a swoon? I see a swoon!”

“Shut up,” I said, finally grinning.

“
Y
ou’re driving me crazy
,” Caleb whispered.

We were on the sofa, sitting next to each other in the semi-darkness. I was shaky from our furtive physical contact. From our stolen kisses throughout the day while on our family picnic. It was difficult, we discovered, to make out with an active six-month-old crawling around. We had fun trying, though.

“I think we should watch a movie.” I grinned, unable to contain my glee at all the teasing. Charlotte was in bed, and I already felt a little melty inside by being near Caleb on the sofa. I’d brushed various body parts against him all day and during dinner, had danced a little, even grinding my ass against his hips while I cooked. He’d laughed when I did that and pulled me close. Kissed behind my ear, which made my body hum.

It wasn’t like old times, exactly, because there was still so much he didn’t know about me. About us. And he still had a faraway look in his eyes more often than I wanted to admit.

But since we’d initially connected on a physical level, this all made sense. Seduction and teasing was my roadmap to his heart. I knew that, deep inside, he still loved me.

“Okay.” He let out a mock-sigh. “You pick. I’m in no state to make any decisions.”

I turned on the TV, tucking my legs under me and purposefully not touching him.

“How about something long and French?” I asked.

He scooted closer to me. “Like I’m going to read subtitles with you sitting next to me looking like that.”

“Like what?” I asked innocently.

“Like in that sexy nightie thing with only three buttons done up.”

I glanced down at my thin, cotton sleep shirt, with its white lace trim and pink stripes. “Oh! I forgot to button the top—”

His hand shot out and clasped mine. “Don’t bother.”

I laughed and clicked on the movie. We’d actually seen it before, and I loved it, so I figured we’d watch it again because he wouldn’t remember.

After about five minutes, he kissed my temple.

“Pay attention, this is an important scene,” I whispered, tangling my legs into his lap.

“Emma, I’ve seen this. It’s about an art student who is obsessed with a married man.”

Startled, I twisted my body so I was snuggled next to him. His big hand caressed my shin. If only he would keep going higher with that hand.

“You remember the plot?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember when or where I saw it. Or who I saw it with. But I recall the details of the movie. The actress is that gorgeous French girl, Audrey something.”

“Audrey Tautou,” I whispered, floored. His memory stunned me into temporarily forgetting that his hand was on my thigh.

“Right.” He frowned. “Have you seen it?”

I nodded.

“What? Wait. Did I see this movie with you, Emma?”

I murmured a yes and stared into his face in the semi-darkness, as if I searched hard enough, his memories would return and not flicker, like the greyish-blue images flashing from the television.

“I don’t mind watching it again, but there’s something else I’d rather do,” he murmured.

“What’s that?”

His hand crept up my sleep shirt, and I groaned when he trailed his fingertips over my thigh.

“Kiss you. Touch you. Put my mouth on certain parts of your body,” he murmured.

“That sounds better than the movie, actually. Which parts?”

He laughed low. “I’m going to show you.”

He put his arm around me, and we kissed. His tongue came out to tangle with mine. The movement of his lips filled me with light, and a little moan formed in the back of my throat.

His hand slipped to my breast, and he cupped, then slid his fingers expertly under the loose fabric. One of the delicate white buttons popped off.

“Sorry about that. We’ll buy you a new one,” he murmured, my nipple hardening under his fingertips.

“It’s not the first time that’s happened with us.”

He laughed and held my breast in his hand, then pushed the other side of the fabric, exposing both.

“Christ, Emma. Look at you. I have to taste you. May I?”

“Caleb, you can do anything you want with me.”

He lifted his head to look at me. The wan light from the TV didn’t diminish the burn in his eyes or the length of his lashes.

“Really? Anything?” A foxy smile played on his lips.

“Really. I know we’re not supposed to talk about before, but…let’s say you had access to every part of my body. Every. Part.”

He swore, then pressed me down on the sofa and lay on top of me, taking a breast in his mouth. I could feel my heartbeat on every inch of my skin. So I wrapped my legs around his hips as he swirled his tongue around my nipple. It was as if there was an invisible string between my breast and my clit and Caleb’s mouth was making the string tauter by the second.

He bit my nipple lightly with his teeth, and I gasped.

“Was that too rough?” he asked. “I’m sorry.”

“Caleb. Like I told you. You can do anything you want to me. And no, not too rough. I like…” My words faded as he raked his lips from my breast to my neck. He nibbled on my skin and bit me again.

“You like what?” he rasped.

“You’ll eventually find out what I like.”

He groaned as he pressed himself into me, and I saw his eyes flutter shut. It reminded me of the previous night, when I’d watched him.

“I saw what you did last night.” I slipped my hands under his black T-shirt, skimming my hands over his lower back. I couldn’t wait to eventually squeeze his muscular bare ass.

He stilled and opened his eyes. Tilted his head. “What did you see?”

“I went out on the terrace to get the baby monitor and passed by your window.”

“Oh. Oh! You watched me jerk off.” His mouth curled into an amused smile, the light from the television accentuating the shadows and sharpness of his face. He thrust his hips into mine, and I felt his erection.

I nodded. “Mmhmm.”

“So my wife is a voyeur,” he whispered, kissing me.

“Your wife is a lot of things,” I whispered between nips of his mouth. I wanted to add something about how I was a lover of rough sex, had tendencies of submission in bed, and was a fan of oral in all forms. I didn’t want to deny him the pleasure of rediscovering all those details, though.

“Did you enjoy what you saw?”

I giggled. “I enjoyed, and then I had a period of enjoyment myself afterward in my bed.”

His eyebrows raised, and he sat up on his knees, my legs still spread around him, my breasts bared and corseted by the fabric of my nightie. He ran his hands up and down my legs, pushing the hem of my sleep shirt up so that my white cotton panties were exposed.

“Hardly seems fair.” He put one hand on each of my thighs, then squeezed my flesh hard. For a moment, I was self-conscious because I wasn’t as thin as I used to be. Then I realized that he didn’t remember how thin I used to be. And he was clearly turned on by
this
me. So I allowed my worry to fade.

“What doesn’t seem fair?” I asked.

“That you got to watch me and I didn’t get to watch you.”

A smile spread across my face. “Oh! It doesn’t seem right, does it?”

He shook his head, and his thumbs toyed with the edges of my panties. I was getting wetter by the second.

“Well, I want to always be fair to you, Caleb. What do you suggest?”

“So smooth. The skin on your legs is so soft,” he murmured, his thumbs skimming my inner thighs. “I suggest you show me what you did last night after you watched me. Then we’ll be even.”

A rush of molten need surged through me.

“You want to see me touch myself?” I squirmed into him, raking my nails down his thighs, which were unfortunately covered in jeans.

“Fuck, yes.” He maneuvered my legs together, pulling off my panties with urgency. He tossed them to the floor. I loved that he took charge and spread my legs wide. I pulled my sleep shirt up.

“Take that off.” His voice was rough.

I did. Now I was naked and he was fully clothed.

His hands skimmed from my thighs, over my hips, up my stomach, and landed on my breasts, his touch raw and rough.

“You. Are. Incredible,” he breathed.

“Are you going to unburden yourself of these? Aren’t you warm?” He was still clothed, and I swiped my hand down his stomach and lingered on his zipper. I could feel his bulging erection, and I pressed the heel of my hand into him.

“I might take my clothes off. Or I might not. I’m more interested in looking at you. You’re beautiful everywhere. Your face. These…” He pinched my nipples and I gasped. His hand moved between my legs and cupped me, then frustratingly, drifted to my thigh. “And I want to stare at you, here, but I’m trying not to. I fear I might come straight away.”

“You can stare.” I shifted out of his grasp and opened my legs in a diamond, so my feet rested on his thighs. I was spread wide for him, and I skimmed my fingers through my wetness. I let my eyes half-close when my middle finger hit my clitoris. I was swollen. Achy.