Returning for his unknow.., p.6
Returning for His Unknown Son, page 6
“This tension between us... It’s very possible that it’s just an echo of the past. Of what we once meant to each other.”
His hands lowered to cup the tight curves of her bottom, tugging her even closer while she peppered kisses soft as butterfly wings all over his jaw. Not a lover’s kisses but something more. Something that unraveled him bit by bit.
“Who knows? Maybe this kiss will be so bad that we can happily settle into a pattern of co-parenting and friendship and—”
Christian slammed his mouth down on hers, desperate to swallow away any of the possibilities she’d just spouted off.
She met his kiss with a ferocity that rocked the ground under his feet. And that was saying something for a man who’d lived with a blank mind for eight years. She tasted like the crack of thunder, that charge of electricity in the air, hot like summer’s breeze... And he gorged himself on her.
If he’d thought to call her bluff, to push this bold version of her until it fell away, then he’d have been disappointed.
Her fingers curled in his hair, pulling him closer, and her greediness amplified his own need. Like a harmonic, it zinged between their bodies, between their mouths, between their breaths, one’s desire feeding the other’s. For the first few seconds, their lips clashed in a tangle of teeth and tongues, all the emotions and tension from the last eight years exploding in their faces. They were too hungry for each other, too desperate from the first brush of their mouths for her theory to be true. The fire between them far too easily stoked with an accidental touch for this to be any less raw, less real than it was.
And yet she’d pushed him. Offered this up to break him out of the spiral of anger and grief he’d descended into when he’d realized what he’d missed out on. Reminded him that he had a gloriously abundant life waiting for him, a son, for God’s sake. It was more than he’d dreamed of ever having again.
Stroking his palms over her arched body, he left her mouth to draw a line of kisses along her jaw, to her neck. He licked the pulse at her neck. And then back up again. This time, their kiss was soft, unhurried, brushing and licking and teasing and retreating, a lover’s exploration after the first explosion.
“You provoked me into that, you manipulative minx,” he whispered, tracing the bow shape of her lips with the tip of his tongue, over and over again. Her mouth was a silky whisper against his as he licked at her, her body somehow both leaner and curvier in his hands than he remembered.
Again and again, he brushed and nipped, licked and laved at her mouth, parched for sustenance. Parched for her.
“You know how fond I am of testing theories,” she said, with a smug smile against his mouth.
The press of her lips, the way her tongue tangled with his, the way she’d swept it through his mouth, searching, seeking, as if she wasn’t going to leave even a little bit untouched... She was surer in her caresses than before, audacious about what she wanted.
Everything about this new Priya—bold and assertive and so damned sexy—turned him on. As if she could hear his thoughts, she went up on her toes. He groaned as she notched her hips against his erection in a seeking thrust.
One hand in her hair, he tugged her lower lip with his teeth. Her throaty moan reverberated through him, curling every muscle into readiness. Every thought to keep this under control, of boundaries, of possible consequences, evaporated as pleasure crawled up the back of his thighs. This wasn’t an experiment, this was an explosion, and all he wanted was to burn with her.
Hand on one knee, Christian opened her up farther until she could feel his erection exactly where she needed it. She moaned in sensual delight and sweat coated every inch of his body, almost a fever in his blood. With his other hand, he pushed at her robe. A clinging, silky top bared a taut midriff, her nipples pebbling against the fabric.
Bending his head, Christian licked first one tight knot through the silk, then the other.
She arched into his touch, moaning, panting, her body bowed with tension. He licked, and laved, and nipped as he rolled his hips to give her the downward pressure she needed. Her fingers dipped into his hair again, pulling his head up, up until their lips met.
Pulling her leg up to wrap around his hip, Christian flipped them around until her back met the wall. She fell against it with a loud thud, her mouth still clinging to his. “It’s been so long,” she kept saying, a sob rising through her chest. Christian growled and swept his tongue into her mouth for another taste and she let him be the aggressor now. As if tuned into him and his needs. As if she knew exactly how and what he wanted. And now, he was the one chasing the thrust of her hips. Rolling and grinding his hips into her, her moans egging him on.
She followed his mouth with hers, her body undulating back and forth between him and the wall. He dived in again, locking her hands against the wall, chasing his own release, thrusting into the cradle of her thighs with a force that...
Suddenly she flinched, her body bucking under him. Her cry of pain had Christian jerking away from her. In the haze of lust, it took him a few seconds to realize that something had hit her on the head. Fat tears filled her eyes, as her chest rose and fell.
He looked down to see a heavy picture frame near her feet. They’d been writhing so frantically against the wall that it had fallen off.
Laughter replaced her tears until she was sliding to the floor in an elegant heap.
Breath rushing through him as if he’d gone a couple of rounds in the ring, Christian sank to his knees. Willing himself to be gentle when his heart was thumping away, he clasped her chin. He felt like a mountain man, his hunger uncontainable, too deep. And she was so...slender and delicate and... He shouldn’t have touched her at all.
Sinking to his knees, Christian tipped her chin up. “Pree? Pree, look at me.”
Slowly she opened her eyes, one hand gingerly inching up her forehead. “I’m still seeing stars,” she whispered, her mouth twitching. “You haven’t lost your technique, Mikkelsen.”
Laughter burst through him and all he wanted to do was to pull her into his lap and stay there the entire night. Maybe the entire week and then a month and then a lifetime. “You’re...hurt?” he demanded. Slowly, he pushed away her hair. His fingers met a nasty bump. She flinched. A curse exploded from his mouth. “What can I do?”
Something in his tone made her pin those eyes on him, her smile disappearing. “It’s just a bump, Christian. I’m fine.”
He joined her against the wall, dipping his head into his hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what? I did a sloppy job of hanging it up, clearly.”
He took the picture from her hands. It was a photo of when he and Jai had found their first seed investor. Taken by Priya. They’d been coming off a twenty-hour-long coding session. They looked painfully young, full of dreams and ambition. He didn’t even recognize himself in the face that looked back at him. He didn’t remember the ambition, the drive, the future he’d wanted back then. The cocky arrogance, the ruthless charm he’d used effortlessly...the need for more, more and more.
Priya took the picture from his hands with a purposeful grip that pulled his attention back to the present. She crawled up to his front on her knees. Apparently, she still wasn’t done.
Hanging wide open to her elbow, her robe parted to reveal the tight top with her nipples still pebbled against it. The strip of silky midriff and the shorts hanging low on her hips... He wondered if that was the new image that would haunt him in his dreams.
She pushed her hair away from her face in a gesture that was achingly familiar. “So our experiment is at an end?”
He grinned, despite everything else. There was something so fiercely alive about her that it was impossible to not smile, not be thankful. Reaching out, he straightened her robe, his fingers lingering far too long on her neck. She closed her eyes as he tied the knot of her robe. “I think we disproved your hypothesis very clearly.”
“I’ve never been more excited about being wrong,” she whispered, one side of her mouth hitching up. Color darkened her cheeks as she flicked a look at him from under her lashes. “I feel like I should apologize.”
He leaned his head against the wall. “For what?”
“I didn’t mean to push you into something you’re not ready for.”
He laughed then, and it came from his belly. It was relief and exhaustion and so much more that he couldn’t even identify. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he twisted it around. Wanting to touch her was like needing his next breath. Wanting to be inside her a craven longing in his belly. “I was this close to grinding us both toward a climax in our clothes, like a randy, out-of-control teenager. What about that says I’m not ready to you?”
“You looked relieved about stopping. The bump notwithstanding.”
He thrust a hand through his own hair, still tasting her on his lips. He needed to say the words even if they hurt her. Needed to draw some kind of line around this, for both their sakes. “I don’t want to complicate things between us right now.”
“You used to say sex should never be a complication.”
“I was clearly insufferable and arrogant. And between us, it was never that simple.”
For a long time, she didn’t say anything. Her hands stayed on his knees, as if to tell him she was still there for him. Christian felt each and every muscle relax. Something about this silence—shared with her—didn’t weigh him down. Instead, his mind calmed—her touch, her scent, the warmth of her body anchoring him to her. It was the most peaceful he’d felt in a long time.
“Will you tell me a little about what it was like for you?” came her question, soft, tentative and oh-so-guarded.
For long seconds, Christian fought the words that rose. Tried to sterilize and sanitize the truth. His gaze roamed the colorful room and landed on the boy.
No, his son, in another picture, with light brown hair, and large, solemn brown eyes, his mouth kicked up on one side. A candid shot that had caught him at the end of a tantrum probably while his mother... She was on her knees, her arm around him, a wide smile curving her mouth. The pure joy and love in the frame melted away every feeble protest. Burned down the hesitation. If nothing else, she deserved truth from him, as much as he could spare.
And it hit him then. This tight band that had cramped his stomach from the moment he’d walked in here. It wasn’t anger. Or even grief. It was fear.
Because, God, he wasn’t ready. For that little boy who’d already changed his life irrevocably. He didn’t feel remotely ready for Priya and Jayden and this life he’d desperately wanted to get back to, for the weight of this beautiful life.
The terrifying fact was that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel ready. If he’d ever feel good enough.
* * *
His jaw tightened so hard that Priya braced for him to shut down, to shut her out. Had she pushed him too far today? Would he ever let her see him? That was the biggest difference she saw in him—how closed off he was now. How little he shared.
Even that kiss, she felt as if she’d stolen it from him. Taken it for herself. At least, in the beginning. Her first thought when he’d brushed his lips against hers was that he tasted the same.
From all those years ago, from the kisses and caresses he’d lavished upon her. But also different. Or was it her who was different?
The attraction between them, however—it seemed it had remained constant. Maybe even the only constant between them because they were clearly different people now. She didn’t know if she could seek solace in that or not. Because it was clear he’d given in to her against his better judgment, even though it had been exactly what they’d both needed.
Even though, once they’d started, it had been a conflagration. While it felt like her body was still burning in the wake of it... He looked like he’d left it far behind already. Shadows wreathed his face now...carrying him away from her, from this moment. Far away, where she wasn’t sure she could reach him.
Maybe she shouldn’t want to reach him there, the sensible voice in her head pointed out. Maybe it was better to keep her distance from him, like she’d done all those years ago.
“I’ve been...a stranger to myself,” he said, after what felt like an eternity, “for eight years. Once I’d recovered from the coma, I’d wake up every day with this hope in my chest that something would trigger all my memories back. I’d look at my face in the mirror and hate that blank stare of a stranger. Each hour, each day passed was excruciatingly slow. Each sunrise felt like a...curse.
“After the first couple of years of that, I used to wake up wishing for no hope at all. I thought that would be easier to bear. For the last two years, I... I think I was done. I didn’t even know when I gave up. I wasn’t happy but I’d made my peace. I was starting to let go of everything, I think.
“And then suddenly, there you were... When I saw your picture, it brought me to my knees. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I went about my day, terrified that it was all going to disappear again. I’ve never been so scared in my life... Not even the day I woke up alone in the hospital do I remember feeling that fearful. I kept thinking what if...”
Priya pushed up between his legs. Her breath shuddered out in strangled relief when he didn’t push her away. She laced her fingers through his and held on tightly. So many questions rose, and she swallowed them all away.
“On the flight here, I was on pins and needles, jacked up on excitement and hope. Now...to learn the sheer amount that I’ve lost, to learn that life has moved on so completely without me... It feels as if I still don’t know myself. As if I’m walking through a stranger’s life.” He turned to the framed picture of Jayden, his eyes deep blue pools. “The uncertainty... I haven’t gotten used to it even after all these years.”
“Especially for a man who liked to lord it over everybody else with his whip-smart brain, his dazzling good looks and easy, seductive charm,” she added, determined to pull him out of the murky depths of grief.
Her reward was a sudden wicked grin. “And yet, I don’t remember making much of an impression on you.”
Priya heard the undertone of dissatisfaction in it. As if he didn’t like that he hadn’t left an impression on her.
Intense Christian was...intense.
She let it go, for now. Because he wouldn’t believe it even if she told him that the opposite was true. Did the past even matter anymore? Was it anything but a weight dragging them down?
She sat back on her folded legs, keeping their fingers clasped together. “So how about, between you and me,” she said, adopting a casual tone she was far from feeling, “we only think of you as a work in progress?”
He communicated what he thought of that with a single, raised brow.
“Just hear me out, okay?”
“I can’t wait,” he said. The exaggerated roll of his eyes undercut the sarcasm. Not that anything would stop her.
“What if we agree...” She was the one to swallow now; a part of her felt as if she was losing him again already... “that you’re not committing to a life with us?”
He flinched as if she’d punched him. Or called him half a man. Or whatever it was that this new Christian found insulting. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Not forgetting that it’s damned unfair to...him.” Another nod toward Jayden’s pic. “What are we going to do—not tell him that I’m his father? Ask him to wait a couple of years before he could call me dad? Or just don’t tell him I’m alive?”
Hurt pinged in her belly that he didn’t consider himself returned to her, only to his son. Which was ridiculous because he was being sensible and considerate and cautious about him and her. She had to acknowledge that. Reckless Christian had always driven her nuts.
“I can’t just ask...you to sit on the sidelines while I figure out myself. I can’t.”
“You aren’t asking, Christian. I’m offering. At least with me, you don’t have to... There are no expectations between us. No certainties I’m demanding of you.”
He banged his head against the wall, tension bracketing his mouth. “This from the girl who always dealt in absolutes, who saw the world in black and white, as right and wrong?”
She cringed at his description of her. “If you were a reckless, arrogant idiot, I was a self-righteous prude who preferred to hide in the margins of life. No wonder we drove each other up the wall.”
His mouth twitched. “Did we?”
“Our marriage...” She looked down at her hands, pushing away all the little wishes and hopes of her heart into one corner and locking it away. “...it’s just a piece of paper, Christian. It’s always been just that. Nothing more than a partnership—two friends saving each other. That’s what you called it, remember? All that’s different now is that we share an additional responsibility—Jayden.”
He swept his fingers over his face. “And if I hurt him, Pree?”
The pain in those words threatened to tear Priya apart. “You won’t. However you’ve changed, whoever you are now, I know, here—” she brought his hand to her chest to feel the steady rhythm of her heart “—that that will never happen. I’m here, Christian, to help. With everything.”
Blue eyes held hers, inscrutable. Studying. Searching. He pulled his hand away from her. “Tell me about... Jayden.”
Crawling on her knees, she pulled out an album she’d made of Jayden’s photos by month ever since he’d been born. Midnight came and went as they pored over the pictures. As she described to him what a curious, sensitive boy their son was. How much she’d already told him about Christian and her and Jai. How very cunning and cute he could be, depending on his mood. How precocious he was on an emotional level.
Her legs were numb when Christian pulled her up after what felt like more than a few hours. “We won’t make a big deal of who you are when he gets here. I mean, he already knows you from your pictures. He’s a happy, well-adjusted child but it still might take him a little time to warm up to you. Just be...yourself.”
