Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“I’ll help you remember. But we need to get you out of this bed, washed up, and fed.”
“We do,” I whisper, ridiculously enamored by how hot he is. Did I know this before I lost my memory? Or did who he is color my perception? I don’t trust myself or my feelings.
Still holding my gaze, he reaches for his phone on the bedside table, and sends out a text before putting it back down. He holds me the entire time.
And then he’s kissing me through salty tears, his mouth meeting mine with purpose, gently at first, then firmer, a gentle stroke of his tongue against mine.
It triggers something in me, some sort of memory, and a flare of arousal licks at my core.
He’s good at this. He knows how to pleasure me.
With one hand still at the back of my head, he holds me with the other, kissing me until I shiver with need. Soft, sensual lips, a stroke of his tongue on mine, a sharp, sensual flare of pain when he bites my lip then kisses me again.
He releases me and holds the back of my head. “Do you remember anything, lass?”
I do. I do.
I nod. “I know that we’ve… that we’ve made love before, haven’t we?”
His body stills. “We’ve had sex,” he says with brutal honestly. “Haven’t quite made love yet, but I have made you come a few times, and I’m damn proud of that.”
I laugh. “Well, then. Seems you take your husbandly duties seriously.”
He gives me a playful slap to the arse. “Aye.”
A flare of arousal licks at me at that. “Um. What was that?”
“What?”
“You just spanked me.”
“Aye, I swatted your arse. Wasn’t quite a spanking.”
I furrow my brow at him and pull away. “Do you spank me?”
And better yet, does it turn me on like it just did?
He snorts. “I have. And will still if the situation calls for it.”
My heart beats a little faster. “Oh? How so?”
There’s a twinkle in his eyes, though he speaks with firm conviction. “I’m your husband, and head of this house. I expect you to obey, and if you don’t, I’ll punish you.” He frowns a bit. “Seems it’s something else I need to remind you of, hmm?”
I huff and push away from him. “Not so sure about that.”
Reaching over, he pulls me back over to him, and to my shock, he reaches for me, and lazily arranges me over his lap.
“Not so sure about that, is it?”
“What are you doing?” I ask, squirming over his lap, knowing exactly what he’s doing.
“Sebastian said to help you remember.” He pats my arse over the cotton pajamas. “I’m following doctor’s orders.”
“Cormac!”
“Aileen?”
“This seems wildly inappropriate.”
“If this seems wildly inappropriate, I can’t wait to show you what else I have in store for you.”
He rubs his large palm over my arse, up and down the swell of it. To my shock, the very feel of his skin on mine sends frissons of awareness through my body. I moan a little, and he continues, massaging my naked skin.
“You may not remember, but I do.”
“What?” I gasp.
“What you told me.”
Oh, God. “What did I tell you?”
“What you fantasized about.”
“Now, Cormac. That was another woman. That wasn’t me. I’m an entirely different—ow!”
His palm slaps my arse. It isn’t very painful, but it’s hardly a love tap.
“Nonsense,” he says. “It’s my job to help you remember, and I take my job very seriously. Spread your legs, lass.”
When I do, I remember, just a little, the vaguest of memories, how he masters my body and commands me to climax. Now this I could get used to.
I open my mouth to protest but forget what I’m protesting when he strokes a finger toward my clit. Even over clothing, it feels so good my breath hitches. I groan as he works me harder and faster, until a knock at the door outside this room interrupts us. I whimper at the loss of his touch.
“Motherfucker,” he mutters. “We’ll come back to that.”
I scramble off his lap and pull the blankets up over me. Did anyone hear him? I will die if anyone heard him. But the entryway door is quite a distance from here. I can’t even hear what they’re saying though the door’s open.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he says. My stomach growls as if on cue.
“Starving.”
He places the tray on a little table against the wall. I throw the blankets off and try to stand, but my legs are weak. It’s shocking to me how many things I can’t do right away.
He’s by my side, holding my elbow. “Easy, now. Take it slow. One step at a time.”
“I think I’ve just been in bed too long,” I say with chagrin.
“Aye, lass, but you’re in good shape. You’ll bounce right back, watch and see.”
“If you say so.”
He chuckles. “I do say so.”
“And something tells me what you says goes, hmm?”