It was after midnight and the house was dark when Jonathan returned home from Sedici.
Six hours. He hadn’t meant to be gone that long. The cooks had finally memorized the menu and he’d been able to put them through their paces. The kitchen wasn’t anywhere near what he’d envisioned, but after this evening, he had faith they could get there.
And that wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t gone in. So his unseemly desire for Leighton wasn’t all bad. It had gotten him out of the house before he’d done something stupid, like confess his sins or kiss her until he could recall her taste on demand. But he wasn’t in the clear yet. That’s why he planned to go straight to bed—do not pause at her door!—before his ever present stupidity reared its dumb head.
He shut the door behind him, tossed his keys in the wooden bowl on the credenza and tripped over something on the floor by the entryway.
“Dammit!”
He flipped the light switch on the wall and was surprised to see Leighton’s bag from the hospital sitting where he’d dropped it when they’d first come home.
Why was it still there?
Did it matter? It wasn’t like it contained anything she needed. It only held the dress she’d been wearing the night of the accident and the few personal items she’d acquired during her hospital stay. Not like her purse—he peered into the living room . . .
Which still lay, like petrified remains, on the chaise portion of his sectional where she’d initially deposited it.
He fought the unease that prickled his scalp.
You’re letting your guilt from leaving her alone drive you to Crazytown. She’s fine.
The pep talk didn’t work.
He strode down the long, narrow hallway to the kitchen, disturbed by the deathly still atmosphere that greeted him. Tumbleweed rolling aimlessly across his slate floors wouldn’t have been out of place.
Nothing had been moved.
There were no dishes in the sink, no containers in the trash. He opened the refrigerator and saw the food he’d put there earlier.
Untouched.
What the hell?
He retraced his steps, reaching the stairs and taking them two at a time.
Setting aside propriety, he flung open the door—
And rubbed the spot on his chest over his heart.
Her room was shadowy, save for the streetlight that shone in from the window, highlighting the huddled figure on the bed. Leighton lay facing away from him, her back curved, head bowed, arms and legs drawn up to her torso. There was an even tempo to her breathing, a steady rise and fall that indicated she was asleep.
He leaned against the doorjamb, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated his brother in that moment, but no more so than himself. Why in the hell had he ever agreed to this? Her need for love and support from her fiancé was obvious and yet he couldn’t provide it.
He’d had to employ every trick in his disciplinal arsenal to keep his distance from her. It’d been much easier in the hospital. Nothing like the scent of antiseptic, the sight of machines and tubing and the sound of heart monitors and children crying to depress his libido and remind him of the inappropriateness of his carnal thoughts.
But seeing her in his house, looking like she belonged: tall, lush, beautiful, with skin like dark satin?
His willpower had failed him and his hands had transformed into sentient beings, tingling with the need to touch her, to hold her. He’d had to restrain himself—literally—holding his mail, crossing his arms, shoving his hands in his pockets, anything to keep them from straying to where they’d craved to be.
With his hands on lockdown, his eyes had picked up the slack. The looks that passed between them set the blood boiling in his veins and threatened to demolish the wall he’d spent the better part of a week erecting. And then she’d walked into his arms and breached all of his defenses.
Initially, he’d planned to stay home and keep an eye on her. Watch a movie or something similarly low-key. But after that embrace, any thought of staying was out of the question. He needed space. And three levels of living in thirty-five hundred square feet wouldn’t be enough.
Leaving her had been a dick move, but giving in to what he’d been feeling would’ve been unpardonable. So he’d inoculated himself from shame, told himself she’d call if she needed to, and he’d dived headfirst into last minute preparations for the restaurant.
When he’d finally looked up and seen it was after midnight, a bitter taste had coated his tongue. He’d checked his phone but found nothing from her on his missed calls log. No missed texts. Maybe he’d misread the situation.
Maybe she’d wanted some time by herself.
But seeing her now . . .
He was a fucking idiot.
She whimpered and the sound ripped him apart.
He perched on the edge of the bed and shook her shoulder.
“Leighton.”
She jerked awake and turned wide espresso-colored eyes to him. Her distress constricted his already-battered heart.
Which took another beating when the light accentuated the faintest trace of tear tracks on her cheeks.
“Hi.” Her voice emerged low and a tad rough.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“I gave you my number for a reason. You wouldn’t be bothering me.”
“I wasn’t sure, since you were in such a hurry to get out of here.”
Her words scored a direct hit. He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” She sighed and rolled back to face the window, laying her head down on her arm. “You didn’t sign up for this and you don’t have to be here. You can go.”
Her body was rigid, her shoulders curling over her chest, sorrow and anguish emanating off her in waves.
Listen to her, Moran. Go. Right now.
That’s exactly what he should do. Her earlier embraces, the kisses in the hospital . . . she wasn’t responding to him. Hell, she didn’t even like him. She was probably reacting to subliminal feelings she had for Thomas. And when she’d been told that Jonathan was her fiancé, she’d transferred that affection to him.
He couldn’t allow himself to trust it was real or to do anything to bolster the belief that they were a couple. Thomas would return soon or she’d get her memories back. Either way, Jonathan only hoped they could move past their previous hostilities and try to get along. Having spent time in her company, with her guard down, he could finally acknowledge what his brother found attractive about her, physical beauty aside. Although—
I asked Leighton to marry me because I respect her and admire her, and because we have the potential to become an influential couple in this city.
Had Thomas ever seen the vulnerable side of his fiancée? If he was here, would he give her the affection she so desperately needed?
Considering he’d left the country when she’d been in a coma, Jonathan didn’t think so.
Fuck it.
Before he could second guess his decision, he kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed. He curved an arm around her waist and pulled her back until she was nestled against him, her head resting on his outstretched arm.
His soul appeased, satisfaction extended from his chest and spread throughout his body.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
She exhaled and fitted her body more snugly against him. “Me, too.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I never should’ve left you alone, not on your first night home.”
“I was so afraid.”
Light couldn’t travel through the space between their bodies yet he still had to strain to hear what she’d said.
Leighton afraid? He pictured the woman who’d walked into Sedici like she’d owned the place. “Why?”
“How often have I stayed here? Do I know anyone in this neighborhood? Are they friendly?” She shook her head, her hair soft against him. “I had no idea who I could trust. I felt alone.”
Though it wasn’t his promise to make, he told her, “You’re not alone. If I have anything to say about it, you never will be.”
Shudders wracked her body and warm tears seared his skin.
Aw hell.
A lump materialized in the back of his throat. “No. Leighton, please. Don’t cry.”
“Sorry.”
“And for fuck’s sake, stop apologizing.”
He shifted and bent his arm, urging her to face him. Using his thumb, he brushed away her tears and traced the path of her angular cheekbones.
“You’re so lovely.” There was no mistaking the reverence in his voice.
Strands of her hair stuck to her cheek and lips. He gently pulled them away and off her face. When said thumb touched the corner of her mouth, she pressed a kiss to its pad, stealing his breath. As she gazed up at him, her expression open and trusting, he knew he’d do everything in his power to ensure he was never again the cause of her tears.
She encircled his wrist with her hand, parted her lips and—God help him!—he was unable to resist her.
Their mouths met, in their first real kiss since the night of the accident, and his heart sighed, as if a hundred years had passed. She moaned, and delved her fingers into his hair, sending a spasm of pleasure rocketing through him. He couldn’t believe the sensations she’d engendered or his body’s response.
He’d intended to go slow, to savor the fullness of her lower lip, drown in her intoxicating fragrance. But the sweetest fruit couldn’t compare to her enticing taste and he could no more resist going deeper than he could stand up and walk away from her.
He crushed her close and swept his tongue into the warm interior of her mouth, swallowing her moans of pleasure. His cock throbbed painfully, and he experienced a searing need to bury himself balls deep inside of her and feel her warmth surrounding him. But he fought the keening demand, intent on enjoying the here and now.
Time stood still as they tasted, suckled and nibbled. Her mouth was made for kissing, her full lips a fantasy come to life. And she knew how to use them. He thought he’d enjoyed kissing before, but kissing Leighton was making his dick harder than it had ever been in his life. Only when red spots bloomed beneath his eyelids, did he succumb to self-preservation and break the embrace. He rested his forehead against hers, his lungs working like pistons to draw badly needed oxygen into his body.
“Is it always like that?” she asked, their exertions lending her voice a breathy quality.
He’d been so focused on watching her mouth form the words that he missed her question. “What?”
“When we kiss. Is it always like that?”
“Like what?” He forced his attention away from her lips, curious to hear her answer.
“Like . . . everything. Like I could live off your kisses. Like they could sustain me. Forever.”
He cupped her cheek. “Yes.”
Their lips met again and again, each kiss longer, deeper and wetter than the one before it. Leighton sighed and he breathed it in, reveling in her hands squeezing his shoulders, caressing the nape of his neck, gripping his hair. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, drowning out all the reasons he should push her away and leave before he did anything he’d be unable to take back.
But his attempt at restraint was crippled when she trailed her hands down his back and gripped his ass. She slid her thigh between his, cradling him against her heat.
Damn, she would be his undoing.
Breaking away from her lips, but promising himself he’d be back, he laid small kisses along her jaw, then buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent until he was drunk on it. She was so warm and soft and responsive in his arms.
And in this moment, she was his.
Goosebumps spread beneath his fingers and she shivered.
“Are you a dream or is this real?” She whispered, her clutching fingers and softly spoken words driving him out of his mind.
He removed one of her hands from his ass, shifted, and pressed it against the front of his jeans. “Does this feel like a dream to you?”
Her fingers caressed the length of his cock through the material.
“Hell, yeah,” she said.
This woman . . .
He reached for the hem of her shirt and several seconds later, it—and her bra—was banished to the bedroom floor. He braced himself above her and feasted on the tempting spectacle she presented: blazing eyes, hair a black curtain on the pale sheets, full and rounded breasts with dark brown nipples. Her skin glistened in the light and his palms itched to stroke its softness.
“Damn, sweetheart. How is any man supposed to see this and then let you go?”
“That seems irrelevant now, because you don’t have to.”
If only that were true. He caressed and squeezed the mounds, and she moaned, arching into his touch. He flicked his tongue against a nipple, feeling the peak tighten against his tongue. He alternated the pressure, mixing little flicks with long laps and then pressing the bud against the roof of his mouth. She burrowed her fingers in his hair and pressed his head to her. Leaving one nipple, his kissed his way across the valley between her breasts to the other, lavishing it with the same attention.
She writhed against him. “Please, babe . . .”
“What do you want?” He murmured around a nipple.
“You. I just want you. Inside me.”
He froze. What the fuck was he doing?
He had to put a stop to this right now. Struggling for control, he drew in a shaky breath and rested his head on her chest. Her heart thumped against his cheek. He hadn’t meant for it to go this far. It wouldn’t be right, for reasons too numerous to list.
“Jonathan?”
But he had to make her feel better, to atone for leaving her alone when she’d needed him. And though he was so fucking hard his dick could drive nails into the hardwood floors at the restaurant, this wasn’t about him. It was all about her.
He reached for a pillow. “Lift your hips, sweetheart.”
She did as he instructed and he slid the pillow beneath her lush round ass, propping her up to the perfect height.
“Let me make you feel good.”
He gripped the edge of her pants and his tongue christened each inch of skin he revealed. He dipped into her belly button, kissed her hip bones, nuzzled the crisp hair on her mons. When he finally pulled the fabric off her long legs, moisture flooded his mouth.
Absolutely gorgeous.
The pants joined her other clothes on the floor.
He ran his finger beneath the elastic of the black lace. She was so wet he could see it through the fabric. His blood sped to his dick so fast it sounded like he was in a wind tunnel.
He slid her panties off and spread her thighs until she was bared before him. Such a beautiful contrast, a pretty pink against the dark cocoa of her skin. He settled between her legs, gripping her thighs and placing them over his shoulder. Capturing her gaze, and holding it, he leaned forward and put his mouth on her.
She bucked against him, but he clamped an arm around her, holding her steady and using his hand to open her wide. He tugged on her flared lips, then flattened his tongue and took a long slow lick from the bottom of her vulva to the top.
She exhaled and dug her fingers into his hair. He teased her folds with his tongue then firmed the tip and moved it in a figure eight pattern until he could feel her clit swell against his tongue.
“You taste delicious.” She was the best thing to excite his palate in a long time.
When he drew the engorged nub between his lips, she stiffened. He didn’t get the hint at first, but when she tugged on his hair and angled her sweetness away from him, her resistance penetrated his haze.
He raised his head. “Do you want me to stop?”
If she did, he would, but the effort would kill him.
Her fingers softened their grip and she shook her head. “Just don’t suck on it.”
Thank god! “Yes, ma’am.”
He refocused on his task and gentled his actions. She relaxed against him, and entwined her fingers with his on her lower belly. Once again, her cries of pleasure filled the air, making him drunk.
“You are my new favorite flavor.”
He slipped one finger in, then two. She was so warm and wet. God, he couldn’t even imagine what she would feel like against his cock. He rotated his fingers and used his thumb to gently move the skin back and forth over her clit. Her inner walls clenched his fingers and she began to frantically grind against his hand.
“Babe . . . oh . . . oh, fuck . . . I’m coming . . .”
She arched off the bed, her arms braced behind her, her head thrown back, her lips formed into a silent O.
It was the sexiest sight he’d ever seen.
Gradually, she floated back onto the bed. He couldn’t help the warm satisfaction that filled his chest at her dazed expression. He pressed soft kisses to her inner thighs. She sighed and tugged his fingers, pulling him up her body. When they were face to face, she placed her palms on his cheeks and stared into his eyes, before bringing his head down and kissing him, her tongue swirling around his, than across his lower lips and chin, tasting her essence on him.
His cock throbbed in his pants, as if to remind Jonathan that it was his turn, but when she reached for the button on his jeans, he stilled her fingers.
“No.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I have an IUD, remember, so there’s no risk of pregnancy. And I got the full range of tests while I was in the hospital. I’m disease free.”
“If I was worried about diseases, I probably would’ve asked before I did what I did. And just so you know, I had a complete check-up done at the beginning of the year and I’m negative for any STDs. But that’s not it.”
“Then what? You don’t want to?”
Oh he wanted to, a hell of a lot. He was so hard he was about to burst. His dick hadn’t known anything but his hand since he’d moved back to DC, finding the thought of fucking any woman but her unappealing.
“Of course I do, but now isn’t the time. I just wanted to make you feel good.”
A thought occurred to him. “Shit.” He stood.
She rose up on her elbow. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back.”
The master, at the other end of the second floor, was the only en-suite bedroom, so he went into the hall bathroom and wet a washcloth with cool water. He was back with Leighton in seconds, climbing on the bed and pressing the cloth against her inner thigh.
“I wasn’t thinking. My stubble probably rubbed you raw. This should help.”
She stared at him, wide eyed. “I need my memories back if only to remember what good deed I was doing the moment before you walked into my life.”
And that was the moment Jonathan knew he was in a damn sight more trouble than he’d ever thought possible.