The Darkest Hour - By Maya Banks Page 0,60

and kissed him again. His lips parted, and she gasped in surprise. She pulled away to see him watching her through half-lidded eyes.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

Fire lit her cheeks. She felt like an errant teenager stealing her first kiss.

“G-good morning.”

He smiled and ran his finger down her nose. “I like your way of saying good morning.”

Her cheeks tightened and she ducked her head.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I liked it. Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of waking this way? You in my arms, your lips on mine.”

She smiled shyly. “I feel so silly. We’ve kissed so many times, but to me this feels like the first.”

He slid his hand behind her neck and cradled her head in his palm. “Then let’s make it perfect.” He lowered his mouth to hers and pressed warm and sweet against hers.

Her heart fluttered and turned over like someone had set a jar full of butterflies free in her chest.

He was exquisitely tender. So reverent that it brought tears to her eyes. He kissed her lips and then started at one corner of her mouth and kissed his way to the other side.

His tongue slid sensuously over her top and then bottom lip and then gently slipped between to open her to his advances. With a sigh, she acquiesced, and their tongues met, tasting each other, exploring. Advancing and then retreating.

They performed a delicate dance, their tongues dueling, slowly at first and then faster. Their breath came faster and was swallowed up, given and then taken back. They shared each puff of air, savored it before demanding more.

Had she really thought she wouldn’t respond to him? She ached for him. All she wanted was to lose herself in him. Curl so tightly into him that she’d never be without his strength—his love.

The thought shook her to the bone. How could he love her when she’d forgotten their past? How could he love her when he’d thought her dead for the last year? And how could she hope to love him when all she had were bits and pieces of their life together?

Why couldn’t she remember?

Ethan drew away and moved his hand from her nape down her back to cradle her behind.

“What are you thinking?”

She smiled tremulously, her lips swollen from his kisses. “I wish I could remember. I want to remember how it was. Was it always like this? Was it as sweet? Was it better?”

“I think it gets better each day we spend together,” he said. “I think twenty years from now, we’ll look back and laugh at the idea that it couldn’t get better or that somehow we’d reached a standstill. Isn’t that the way it should be?”

She nestled back into his arms and laid her cheek against his broad chest. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am this time,” he murmured.

She leaned back, puzzled by his response, but he kissed her again, and she forgot about everything but the heat of his lips on hers.

“I had an idea for something to do today,” he said when he drew away again.

She raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“I thought we could go to Sam’s to swim off the dock. You’ve remembered several instances of being there, and I thought it might help to be in a place you remember being happy.”

Excitement bubbled up. Random snippets peppered her mind, crowding in until they overwhelmed her.

“I’d love that. When can we go?”

He smiled at her enthusiasm. “As soon as we get our lazy butts up and get out there.”

“Sam won’t mind?” she asked anxiously.

Ethan laughed. “You, my darling wife, have all my brothers wrapped around your little finger. You may not remember it, but that doesn’t change the fact. They won’t mind a bit if we come over.”

Her brow crinkled. “Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten you told me that Garrett and Donovan live there too.”

“Don’t get all worried on me. It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

He squeezed her hand for emphasis, and she leaned forward to give him a quick kiss, delighted that she could be spontaneously affectionate with him without awkwardness. It was a start.

RACHEL looked eagerly out of her window when they pulled into Sam’s gravel drive. The house was beautiful, and the lot was huge. A separate building, larger than the house, was situated to the right, and she focused on it intensely, but there was no flash of recognition.

“What’s there?” she asked, pointing at the building.

It was odd in that it didn’t look like a house. It couldn’t remotely be considered home-like. It was

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