Passionate Pregnancies. Maya Banks

For a moment he stroked his thumb across her knuckles and then he gently squeezed.

      “I really am sorry. I’m being a selfish bastard. I know this has to hurt you and that none of this is easy for you. Forgive me.”

      Her heart squeezed at the sincerity in his eyes. It was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms and hold on for all she was worth. She wanted to whisper to him that she loved him. She wanted to beg him never to let her go. But all she could do was stare across the table in helpless frustration.

      “What if you never remember?” she asked, voicing her greatest fear.

      “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

      She leaned back in her seat, slipping her hand from underneath his. The heaviness in her chest was a physical ache, one that clogged her throat and made it hard to breathe.

      “What have you packed?” she asked lightly, forcing a smile.

      He looked confused by the abrupt shift in conversation. “I haven’t yet.”

      She raised an eyebrow. “We leave in the morning and you don’t know how long you’ll be gone. Aren’t you leaving it to the last minute?”

      He grimaced. “I wasn’t sure what to pack. You mentioned things like swimwear and flip-flops.”

      She laughed as some of the tension in her chest eased. “Well, it’s too cold to swim. The weather is still quite warm but the water is chilly. But we can buy you shorts and flip-flops like we did before. We can’t have you wearing suits all the time, and your expensive loafers will just get ruined.”

      “I’m trusting you,” he muttered. “Since you swear I did this before.”

      “And it didn’t kill you,” she teased. “When I was done with your makeover, you looked more relaxed and less like a stuffed shirt.”

      “You’re implying I’m stuffy?” he asked in mock outrage.

      “Oh, you were. Totally stuffy.”

      “I don’t want to stand out this time. I’d like to keep my … problem … as private as possible.”

      “Of course,” Bryony murmured.

      He sat back in his chair and fiddled with his wineglass, though he didn’t pick it up to drink. He turned in the direction of the band playing soft, mellow jazz and then back to her, his expression thoughtful.

      “Tell me, Bryony. Did we ever dance?”

      Caught off guard by the question, she shook her head mutely.

      He stood and held his hand out to her. “Then dance with me now.”

      Mesmerized by the husk in his tone, she slipped her hand into his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He led her onto the dance floor and slid his palm over her back as he pulled her into his embrace.

      She closed her eyes and sighed as she melted against him. His warmth wrapped tantalizingly around her and his scent brushed over her nose. She inhaled deeply, holding his essence in the deepest part of her.

      Oh, how she’d missed him. Even when she’d hated him, when she’d thought the absolute worst, she’d lain awake at night remembering the nights in her bed when they’d made love with the music of the ocean filling the sky.

      She was acutely aware of him as they swayed in time to the sultry tones. He cupped her to him possessively, as if telling the world she belonged to him. It was nice to get lost in the moment and her daydreams.

      As he turned her, she tilted her neck and gazed up at him as he tucked her hand between them, his thumb caressing the pulse at her wrist.

      “You are an interesting dilemma, Bryony.”

      She raised her brows. “Dilemma?”

      “Conundrum. Puzzle. One of the many things I can’t seem to figure out lately.”

      She cocked her head to the side in question.

      “I swear I have no memory of you. I look at you and draw a blank. But when you get close to me, when I touch you …” His voice dropped to a mere whisper and it sent a shiver racing down her spine. “I feel as though …”

      “As though what?” she whispered.

      He had a slightly bewildered look on his face as if he were searching for just the right word. Then finally he sighed and stared down at her, his gaze stroking over her skin.

      “We fit,” he said simply. “I have no explanation for it, but it just feels … right.”

      Her heart sped up. Hope pulsed in her veins, the first real hope she’d had since hearing his fantastic story. She didn’t know whether to squeeze him or kiss him, so she stood there as they swayed with the music and smiled so brilliantly that her cheeks hurt.

      “Amazing that such a simple thing could make you so happy,” he murmured.

      “We do fit,” she said, her voice catching as her throat throbbed with a growing ache. She reached up to frame his face and then she leaned up on tiptoe to brush her lips across his.

      She meant it to be a small gesture of affection. Maybe a reminder of what they’d once shared. Or maybe to just reaffirm the sensation to him that they fit. But he didn’t allow her to stop there.

      Cupping his hand to the back of her head, he wrapped his other arm around her waist and hauled her up until her lips were in line with his.

      There was nothing tentative about his kiss. No hesitancy as he attempted to find his way back. It was as if they’d never been apart. He kissed her like he’d kissed her so many times before, only this time … There was something different she couldn’t quite put her finger on. More depth. More emotion. It wasn’t just sexy or passionate. It was … tender.

      Like he was apologizing for all the hurt. For the separation and misunderstanding. For what he couldn’t remember.

      She sighed into his mouth, sadness and joy mixing and bubbling up in her heart until she was overwhelmed by it all. When he finally drew away, his eyes were dark, his body trembled against hers, and as he eased her down, his hand slid up her arms to cup her face.

      “Part of me remembers you, Bryony. There’s a part of me that feels like I’ve come home when I kiss you. That has to mean something.”

      She nodded, unable to speak as emotion clogged her throat. She swallowed several times and then finally found her voice.

      “We’ll find our way back, Rafe. I won’t let you go so easily. When I thought you didn’t want me, that you’d played me, it was easy to say never again. But now that I know what happened, I won’t give up without a fight. Somehow I’ll make you remember. It’s not just your happiness at stake. It’s mine, too.”

      He smiled and stroked a thumb over one cheekbone. “So fierce. You fascinate me, Bryony. I’m beginning to see how it could be true that I was so transfixed by you from the start.”

      Then he leaned down and kissed her again, the room around them forgotten. “I want to remember. Help me remember.”

      “You’ll get it back,” she said fiercely. “We’ll get it back. Together.”

       Nine

      The flight back to Houston was much better than her trip to New York. On the way she’d been squeezed between two men who she swore had to be football players. She hadn’t been able to move and had spent the entire time being miserable.

      She and Rafael occupied the first two seats in first class, and once they’d taken off, she’d reclined without guilt, since there was plenty of room between the rows.

      By the time they