Forget Me Not (Escape Contemporary Romance) Page 12

  A wave of emotion washed over Stefan. This was it. Where he wanted to be. He couldn’t get any closer to her than this.

  He stroked her from the inside out, trying to hold back, hoping to give Claire time but it felt too good and he felt the tension building. Opening his eyes, Stefan looked at her pretty face, lashes pressed shut, lips parted. This was for her and he wanted it to be good.

  Claire cried out, arching her body against his. He felt her muscles contracting and, not able to help himself any longer, started ramming himself into her, hoping he wouldn’t hurt her but unable to stop himself at the same time.

  Waves of intense pleasure radiated through him, rocketing up his body. Stefan slumped over her, and then took his weight back onto his hands and gazed into her eyes.

  Claire looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction, or at least he hoped so. He rolled off, lying on his side, his head propped up on one elbow.

  This felt so perfect, lying beside her in silence. His eyes were gliding over her curves, admiring her anew: her shapely legs, flat stomach, rounded breasts. He could lie here like this forever.

  Had it had been like between them before? Was it possible married life could have been this good? What kind of fool had he been to leave?

  Stefan wondered if they’d gone to work every day, come home, eaten dinner, perhaps talking before tumbling into bed together. He could think of worse ways to live.

  Claire’s fingers skimmed down over his shoulder and along his arm, until her hand rested on his. She looked down at their hands, her gaze no longer resting on Stefan’s face.

  ‘Something wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m almost too scared to ask.’

  ‘What is it?’

  Claire looked up at him but he could see the hesitation in her eyes. ‘Did something come back to you? Have you got your memory back?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You were so quiet, I thought maybe…’

  ‘That was a very intense experience.’ Stefan smiled. ‘But it didn’t trigger anything in my mind.’

  ‘How did you…?’

  ‘How did I what?’

  ‘The way you touched me, the things you did. You knew exactly what you were doing. You were so…proficient. I thought your memory must have come back.’

  Stefan couldn’t stop himself from smiling. ‘Proficient? Is that meant to be a compliment?’

  Her lips curled to a shy smile. ‘Okay, it was fantastic. I think we can both agree on that. But how did you know what to do?’

  ‘How does anybody? I guess some things are instinctive. I just did what felt right.’

  ‘It felt right to me, too.’

  ‘Claire, was that how things were between us before? Sexually, I mean.’

  ‘They were good, better than good.’

  ‘We were together for a long time. Didn’t things get a bit predictable, a little repetitive?’

  ‘Being with the same person all time doesn’t have to be boring. The old Stefan didn’t think it was, at least not while we were getting on well.’

  ‘You’re anxious for me to get my memory back, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ’Tell me—just then, were you nervous because you thought I had my memory back or because I didn’t?’

  ‘Both.’

  Claire answered quickly. An honest answer. She’d told him that when his memory came back, he wouldn’t want to be with her any more. But she was also anxious for him to stay the man he was. This sounded like a no-win situation to him. But he wasn’t a loser. He knew that much about himself.

  Stefan gazed at Claire, so soft and smooth and pale, so lovely. He hadn’t taken good care of her in the past. And yet everyone needed someone to take care of them and love them, didn’t they?

  He rubbed his hand along her arm. ‘You’ve got goosebumps.’

  Lifting the comforter, Stefan waited until she’d moved between the covers before joining her.

  He was a man and Claire was the woman he wanted.

  There were complications, yes, but when he cut the situation down to its most primal level, things were quite simple. And whether or not he got his memory back was irrelevant. Claire was smart and kind, and he had it on good authority that the sex between them had always been outstanding. What more could a man want?

  Stefan wasn’t in a position to say whether he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Claire or not, but he did wanted to stay with her, live with her, make love to her. For as long as it suited them both.

  He knew what this man wanted, and Stefan was damn well going to make sure he got it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Claire’s gaze felt riveted to the dining table, as she walked past it towards the kitchen. Looking rather more elegant than it had in a long time, the table was set with elegantly-folded crimson napkins that matched the deep red of the single rose sitting in a crystal vase at its centre. She wondered where that had that come from.

  The coffee plunger and milk jug were at the ready and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the ceramic pitcher on the table held maple syrup. She vaguely remembered Stefan saying something about pancakes while they were lying in bed, but she hadn’t thought he’d been serious.

  Pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen, Claire leaned in the doorway and crossed her arms, her eyes on Stefan as he stood in front of the stove. This was her apartment, her kitchen, and the man she was married to, yet the situation felt so surreal, like she’d walked into someone else’s life by mistake.

  He was humming a tune or, rather, da-da-ing a tune while he worked. For a moment, she thought it sounded like Ra-Ra-Rasputin by Bony M, but he couldn’t be humming an old disco tune that he’d never even liked from the past. Stefan glanced up and flashed her a smile. Standing barefoot in the kitchen, he looked like some sort of raunchy housewife’s dream: a khaki tee-shirt was stretched across his broad shoulders, a pair of faded jeans hugging his hips. The tee-shirt, an old favourite of his, had probably seen better days but it was comforting to see him in something so familiar.

  He wasn’t even trying to look sexy. The man just couldn’t help it.

  She liked this Stefan, the weekend Stefan, much better than the one who’d walked out the door every morning in a suit, and had not to return until late in the evening.

  ‘I thought you were joking,’ Claire said, attracting his attention. ‘About the pancakes.’

  ‘This is the last batch.’ He flipped a pancake. ‘Why would you think that?’

  He’d always liked to cook when he’d had the time, but over the last few years that hadn’t been very often. As Stefan had become busier, he’d preferred to eat something simple, or go out for breakfast if he wanted a fancy dish, rather than cook so early in the morning.

  ‘No reason,’ she replied.

  If Claire was onto a good thing, she wasn’t going to rock the boat. She’d accept the pancakes graciously.

  ‘Can I help with anything?’

  Stefan slid the last pancake onto a serving platter on top of the others, and then turned and ushered her out of the kitchen. His hand was on the small of her back. ‘You can take a seat.’

  Sitting down at the table, Claire smiled. ‘I’ll do as I’m told, just this once.’

  He swept his hand over the platter. ‘Then hoe in.’

  She did and the pancakes were delicious. Cooked to perfection, they were fluffy on the inside, the perfect texture to soak up all the syrup in which she had so decadently drowned them.

  ‘I take it you like maple syrup,’ Stefan said between mouthfuls.

  ‘I have a dreadful sweet tooth,’ she confessed. ‘Did you use a recipe or make it up as you went along?’

  ‘I was flipping through your cookbooks in the kitchen the other day and I found some excellent books by a woman called Nigella Lawson. She’s not even a real chef but she writes these great books.’ Claire giggled, prompting him to ask, ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Everyone knows Nigella. She’s famous. So what
did you make of it all?’

  ‘She’s obviously a very attractive woman.’

  Smirking, Claire put down her knife and fork.

  ‘What?’ Stefan asked, all innocence.

  She couldn’t help teasing him. ‘I knew it. Nothing’s changed. You always thought she was a bombshell. I suspect the recipes are just an added bonus.’

  He pointed towards her plate. ‘I don’t see you complaining.’

  ‘Nope. I know my place. You can read all the Nigella cookbooks you like as long you promise to cook her recipes for me.’

  ‘That can be arranged.’

  ‘This is so good,’ Claire said, taking another mouthful.

  And she wasn’t just talking about the pancakes.

  She was still on a high after last night with Stefan. Claire knew she should never have crossed that line and let it happen, but there was no way she could have resisted.

  And why should she? Technically, they were married. Circumstances had thrown them together again, and it had been difficult for her to see his old colleagues and parents again. It’d been a hard slog emotionally but she was working through it. Then, finally, along came this little bonus.

  She was human, damn it. What woman could have turned down a night of exquisite sensual pampering? Not her, obviously.

  And if the opportunity came up again, she’d take him up on it and enjoy every moment. That was what life was for. Anyway, there was no going back.

  ‘Is this as good as last night?’ Stefan asked, a sparkle in his eye.

  ‘I couldn’t choose. The two things aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.’ With a naughty smile, she added, ‘I’m entitled to both.’

  ‘Is this really what it was like between us when we were together? I don’t mean at the end. I mean the years we had beforehand.’

  ‘Do you want the truth?’

  Stefan nodded.

  ‘This is better. When we were married, we both had demanding jobs and spent a lot of time at work, especially you. You’d be exhausted by the time you came home, which I could understand. We had other commitments, too, friends to catch up with, my family to see. You were dedicated to going to the gym and keeping fit. There wasn’t a lot of time left over.’

  ‘Overall though, it was still good? You liked being married to me?’

  ‘I’d never change the years we had together.’

  ‘But I was a powerful man, successful in my chosen field. From what I can gather, I made mountains of money and was respected, one of life’s high-achievers.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I’m none of those things now. I’m not successful. How can things be better between us now that they were before?’

  Claire held his gaze. ‘I’ve got the most important thing you have to give—your time.’

  Stefan didn’t look convinced. ‘I’ve seen our holiday photos. Surely it was better when we were on lavish vacations, in Paris eating at five-star restaurants and going skiing on the Swiss Alps. I could see from the pictures that we were both having the time of our lives. Weren’t the European trips better than this?’

  Claire shook her head. Nothing was better than having breakfast together in the morning after a night of wild sex. Nothing was better than spending time together.

  When things had fallen apart between them, Stefan had been angry and said she was needy. He hadn’t understood that Claire only had him when they went overseas together, but she’d wanted him the rest of the time, too.

  That hadn’t been neediness on her part.

  It had been love.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Claire said. ‘I felt privileged to be able to afford to travel, to go skiing. I felt lucky not to have to worry about money and not being able to pay the bills like my mother had. I’d seen what life was like on the other side and knew how it felt to not to have enough money for schoolbooks, and toys, and sneakers. I knew what it was like when the only food we had was what was in the house, because until Mum’s pay cheque came in, we couldn’t go to the supermarket. I knew when I had it good.’

  Stefan’s brow furrowed. ‘Are you saying I didn’t?’

  Claire didn’t want to be mean, didn’t want to imply he’d been ungrateful because he hadn’t. Sure, Stefan had been given a lot to him on a silver platter, and he’d had opportunities that other people hadn’t, but he’d also worked hard. You didn’t get to a position like Stefan’s by sitting back on your laurels.

  ‘You appreciated what you had, but you also didn’t have anything to compare it with,’ she said. ‘Life had always been sports cars and exotic holidays for you. That was the norm.’

  Stefan looked away. ‘It won’t be anymore. I won’t have the earning power I had before. My memory might come back soon or it might take a while, but I can’t see how I’ll be a partner in a top-tier law firm again until that happens. I’m not even sure I want to work in that field again.’

  ‘You will.’

  He leaned back in his chair. ‘Why would I choose to leave home early to spend a day behind a desk, when I can sleep in and enjoy pancakes in the morning with a beautiful woman instead? Far as I can see, the leisurely breakfast is going to win every time.’

  ‘But you won’t think that way after you get your memory back. You’ll think the way you used to.’

  ‘Wanna bet?’

  This was an argument Claire didn’t want to have, as it wasn’t a fair playing field. Stefan was still learning about himself and she had the advantage. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘you don’t need to worry about money. You’ve got all kinds of family trusts. Financially, it probably wouldn’t matter if you never worked again.’

  His eyes narrowed seductively. ‘I can be a kept man, instead. While you go to work, I can look after our home and prepare three course dinners, providing you with whatever services you require in the evenings.’ Stefan leaned forward. ‘I hope last night’s little interlude was of the highest standard.’

  She lowered her eyes. ‘Last night was amazing.’

  Under the table, he lifted his bare foot and ran it along her calf, sending a sizzle up her spine. That always felt so good with Stefan.

  ‘If you like this so much,’ he said, ‘the swimming in the pool, the showering together, the pancakes for breakfast, we can keep doing it. I can always see what other recipes I can rustle up from those Nigella books. I could use my imagination, see what we can come up with. We can do this again and again.’

  How wonderful that would be, Claire thought, if their lives could be repeat performances of last night and this morning, if every day could be like this—if it were only the two of them in their own little world.

  But this wasn’t real and wouldn’t last. It’d be over the minute Stefan got his memory back, possibly sooner.

  Stefan stood, walked behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. His hands were so big, and he made her feel small and delicate. He massaged her muscles and helped melt away her reserve.

  ‘This is so good,’ Claire said. ‘But in another week, I have to go back to the real world, back to work, back to the old everyday routine, and you’ll have to find your own way. I haven’t changed my mind about that.’

  ‘Why would I leave when things are so good between us?’

  She knew the answer. He’d despise her again and tell her that she used him.

  ‘You can’t stay here forever,’ Claire said. ‘And you won’t want to but, for now, I like having you here and I’m glad you want to stay a while.’

  ‘You’ll change your mind,’ Stefan said, as confident as ever.

  That was the one thing she couldn’t do.

  He ran his hands over her shoulders; they wandered down her upper arms, before making their way back up to her neck. He was making a point—she was putty in his hands. As he pressed his lips to her neck, Claire closed her eyes as she felt his goatee tickle her bare skin.

  ‘No reason we can’t enjoy ourselves,’ Stefan said. ’This morning, tonight, tomorrow…’

  Sitting up
straight, she said, ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. I have to go in to work today.’

  He stopped massaging her neck. ‘Not now, surely?’

  ‘Later, much later.’ Claire closed her eyes again and relaxed. ‘And I won’t be gone long.’

  ‘Good, because I had plans for you this morning.’ He leaned over, his breath on her neck warm and moist, and pressed a gentle kiss to her bare skin.

  ‘Did those plans include more of this kissing business?’ Claire asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What else do they involve?’

  ‘Running my hands all over your body, for one thing,’ Stefan murmured, sending another sensual shiver up her spine.

  She stood and faced him, her voice a whisper. ‘This is a two-way street. I get to do what I want with you, too.’ Claire slipped her hands under his shirt and onto his firm waist, sliding the fabric up. ‘We need to get rid of some of these stuffy clothes, for a start.’

  Smiling, he cupped her chin in his hands and bent down to her. ‘Stuffy, am I?’

  ‘Very, but I know how to fix that.’

  His hands slid lower, skimming the edges of Claire’s breasts and down along her ribs to rest at her waist. He pulled her close and the scent of shampoo from his morning shower wafted to her nostrils.

  One week.

  Until the end, she was going to enjoy every moment with Stefan and everything that entailed: his company, his kisses, his naked body.

  This Stefan was more fun to be with. It reminded her of the old days, when they’d first met, only better.

  And now Claire knew how valuable it truly was.

  When he covered her mouth with his, she stood on her tip-toes, and wrapped her arms around his neck, ,and kissed him back.

  She didn’t have to go back to the real world.

  Yet.

  Chapter Fifteen

  James Porter was sitting at the polished dining table in their suite, the remnants of their late breakfast sitting before him as he watched his wife pace the room.

  Another city, another hotel room. They all looked the same after a while. This one was incredibly luxurious, and he had to admit the view of the harbour was truly spectacular—it could’ve been straight out of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous—but that didn’t mean anything, not really.