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“Not by choice, Aubrey with the auburn hair. Not by choice.”
Titan trotted, steady and slow, as Vic guided him up onto a small hill. The sun was dipping low in the sky, the trees along the horizon black silhouettes. She sat, Vic’s arms wrapped around her waist, his cheek against hers, while they watched until the last dab of light slipped behind the mountains.
So, her life hadn’t been perfect. And there were parts she couldn’t remember, for reasons she couldn’t comprehend. What had happened in the past no longer mattered, not when everything felt so right in the moment.
When she was with Vic, she knew all she needed to know. She knew she loved him and he loved her—the fact he hadn’t said it yet hadn’t escaped her attention, and there was an engagement ring in his dresser drawer meant for her. She’d been trying not to think too hard about what he said about her changing her mind after her memory returned. Everything about him screamed that he was a man who’d never abandon or betray her. What more was there to know?
She reached behind her and wrapped one arm around his neck. He kissed her cheek as the breeze blew, bringing with it the sweet smells of wildflowers and grass.
She had tied herself to this man fourteen years ago. She trusted her decisions. She knew what was best for her.
“Vic?”
“Yeah, honey.”
“About that shower...”
His low chuckle vibrated along her back. “You got it,” he said before clucking his tongue at Titan. They silently trotted back to the stable.
With Aubrey in the privacy of his suite, Vic kicked off his boots and reached for the stud on his jeans. Aubrey, a playful glint in her eyes, lifted the skirt of her floral dress to show her thighs, and then her panties, before dropping it to hide them from view. She repeated the dance while he wrestled with his jeans, too engrossed by the show to pay a damn bit of attention to what he was doing.
When she whipped the dress off and threw it at his chest, he nearly tripped over the stray leg of his jeans on his way to her. He caught her at the dresser, backing her against it to give her a thorough kiss.
Then his mind strayed to the box in the top drawer.
To the very engagement ring Aubrey had returned to him with no intention of taking it back. The same Aubrey who had just assured him he’d make a good father, and who continually asked about their future. A future that, until very recently, had been a pipe dream.
“Are you okay?” she breathed. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her chest flushed pink and her nipples pressing the thin fabric of her bra.
“Yeah.” He dived back into the sanctuary of her mouth, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it behind him. “We have to take a shower first.” He gave her one more fast kiss. “I smell like cow.”
“You smell like you.” Her eyes flashed, an undeniable heat communicating how much she wanted him. That look poured itself into the center of his chest, where a groove of longing had been carved over the long and lonely decade he’d spent missing her.
She pulled down the cups of her pale yellow lace bra to flash him. Just as quickly, she covered herself, her hands going to her matching panties next. Her panties had always matched her bras. God, he loved this woman.
The thought stopped him cold. Of course he knew that—he’d known that. He’d refrained from telling her because it wouldn’t be fair to her. When she remembered everything, he needed her to understand he hadn’t been simply toying with her heart this second time around. He was here for the long haul—if she’d have him.
Big if.
“Don’t you like yellow?” She arched her back, and he closed his larger hands over the most exquisite breasts he’d ever seen, felt or tasted.
“Hate it,” he lied. “I’d better take this off.” He unhooked her bra, and it followed the same path to the floor his shirt had. Her breasts were a perfect handful. The first time he’d seen those pale peach nipples, he’d been a slack-jawed seventeen-year-old with the most painful erection of his life to date. He felt a similar way seeing them now. Even after he’d had them on his tongue countless times. Even after he’d plucked them to eager peaks while making love to her the other night.
He rolled his boxer briefs off his legs, his erection springing free. Aubrey lost the panties, throwing them at his face. He caught them midair, his reflexes every bit what they used to be, and chased her across the bedroom to the shower. She didn’t resist him long. He pressed every naked inch of her against every naked inch of him as he blindly felt for the shower door. He tested the water, determined it was the ideal temperature and shoved them both inside.
“I miss this.” She sighed against his lips as rivulets of water rolled off her chin.
“Me, too.” He blinked, the shower spray bouncing off his cheeks. He didn’t know if she meant that she’d remembered the times they’d showered together or if she was being hyperbolic, but he sure as hell meant it. He missed this. He missed her. He missed every second of holding her close and kissing her. Of seeing her matching panties and bras. He’d lost years thanks to his own stubbornness. He refused to rush tonight.
Lowering his face, he kissed her slower this time, pushing his tongue past her lips to savor her heady flavor. When she moaned into his mouth, he coasted one palm along her ribs and cupped one of her breasts in his hand. He took one succulent peach nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then flattened her back against the tile wall.
His eyes drilling into hers, he ran his other hand down her torso until he reached her center. She widened her stance in silent permission, giving him ample room to play. The trust between them was a major turn-on. Her auburn curls tickled his fingers and then he slid home, pushing into her wetness with two fingers as his thumb played her clit.
“You’re smoking hot, Aubrey Collins.” He nibbled her bottom lip, watching as her green irises were swallowed by black pupils. “Do you like this?”
“Yes.” She shuddered as steam rose around them.
“No one can turn you on the way I do. No one can make you feel as good as I make you feel.” He had the urgent need to claim her. To remind her, so that when she did remember, she would search as fruitlessly as he had for a replacement, and, like him, she would fail to find one. He didn’t doubt that she’d experienced someone else in their time apart, but he wanted her to know she wouldn’t have to stoop ever again. He’d be here—he’d always be here.
