Rachel turned in the direction of his voice. He smiled and nodded, but he kept his distance almost as if he knew how overwhelmed she was.
“You’re the quiet one, aren’t you?”
Donovan’s eyes widened a little, but his cheeks colored slightly.
“If you’re asking if I’m an obnoxious loudmouth like all my other siblings, the answer is no.”
“I danced with you at my wedding,” she said, as the music danced in her head just as they had done. “I teased you and said you were the only one of your brothers who hadn’t bruised my toes.”
His smile lit up his face. “Yeah. I always said they were uncouth mammoths.”
Laughter rang out over the room, and she realized that it was a sound she’d heard often in her past. She stared from face to face, her heart swelling and aching with the irrefutable truth. She was home. She had family. She was loved.
CHAPTER 21
IT had taken a while for Rachel to become accustomed not only to sleeping in the wondrous luxury of a bed, but also to sleeping with Ethan. Not that she’d had any difficulty making the transition. In fact, she was usually so glued to him by the middle of the night that she was surprised he didn’t shove her away. But he seemed as content as she was to sleep so melded together.
The part she’d had to grow accustomed to was not living with the fear of him being gone when she woke up. He never left the bed before she did and always made sure he was there, holding her, when she woke up.
Some mornings they’d lie there lazily, limbs entwined, and he’d rub a hand up and down her arm as the sun rose higher, filling their bedroom with light.
This morning was no exception. She’d actually woken before Ethan, and she lay there watching him sleep. He looked almost vulnerable in this unguarded state, and she found the contrast fascinating. He was so hard and tough, so very protective of her, and yet right now she wanted to touch him, ease the worry she often saw in his eyes.
She wondered what he’d do if she kissed him. Though he was affectionate with her, and touched her frequently, he hadn’t made any effort to kiss her—really kiss her. There were light kisses to her forehead. A peck on the lips. Sometimes a brush across her cheek. But he hadn’t kissed her like a lover.
Part of her was curious to see if she’d remember the passion that once existed between them, but the other part of her was scared to death. What if she didn’t react appropriately? What if she couldn’t remember her feelings for him. Worse, what if she felt nothing if they tried to make love?
She frowned. No, that couldn’t be possible. She was too physically aware of him.
She snuggled a little closer to him, until her mouth was hovering just an inch from his. Her pulse pounded, and she chided herself for being so ridiculously nervous. It was just a kiss. They’d kissed any number of times before.
She licked her lips and then carefully pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was so light and yet it gave her a giddy thrill. She pulled quickly away, worried she’d woke him. But he hadn’t moved.
Encouraged by the warm sensation all the way down to her toes, she moved forward again. This time she kissed just the corner of his mouth and enjoyed the scratchy sensation of his morning shadow against her cheek.
Gaining courage and confidence, she slid her mouth fully over his 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?”