A Second Chance at Forever (20 page)

She leaned forward to accept the bite, her eyelids fluttering closed. Swallowing the mouthful, she moaned low in her throat. “Ohh, that turned out good.” She opened her eyes and turned to refill the spoon she held. “It’s your grandmother’s recipe.”

Stunned by her admission, all sense of teasing fled his mind. Alex sank back against the chair, blinked at her as he processed what she’d told him. His grandmother had died when he was fifteen. Her only recipe resided with his mother. All of which told him more than words could how much Angela had gone out of her way this weekend.

For him.

She rested her free hand against his chest. “You okay?”

Pulled out of his stupor, he shook his head in disbelief. “You called my mother just so you could make me pie?”

Running over the list of items she’d picked up from the market in his head, he had no doubt she’d made the entire damn thing from scratch, crust included. Exactly the way his grandmother always had.

A flush crept across her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze to his chest. “Well, Brock had no idea what your favorite dessert was, so I called your mother. She said your grandmother made you this pie every year for your birthday, up until she died.”

She was right. After Gran died, he’d stopped eating pie for his birthday. It just wasn’t the same without her, and no other pie had ever been as good. Angela’s, however, was right up there.

“I was thinking of making an Italian dessert, to go along with the lasagna, Tiramisu maybe, but who am I to break tradition?” Angela peeked up at him through her lashes and shrugged a shoulder as if it were no big deal.

The gesture overwhelmed him. She’d done something incredible for him. He hadn’t the foggiest idea how to tell her what that meant. Oh, people had done nice things for him in the last year, but none of them had ever made him feel comfortable with it. Accepted. Angela’s soft presence soothed the wound itself, in a way he found simultaneously terrifying and gratifying. The woman had humbled him.

He set the spoon he held down onto the table, cupped her face in his palms, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to her mouth. Once. Twice. Then he sat back. “Thank you.”

Her brow twisted in confusion. “For pie?”

He shook his head. “For being here.”

The tenderness in her eyes made his heart stutter in his chest. Some part of him still couldn’t quite believe this wonderful, stunning creature looked at
him
that way.

“I’m here because I want to be, Alex,” she said, for the second time that day.

She leaned forward, kissing him this time, merely the brush of her mouth over his. Unable to resist, he slid his hands into her hair and deepened the contact. When a quiet moan slipped from her lips and she pressed into him, triumph expanded in his chest. He allowed himself a moment to get lost in the taste and feel of her, before reining himself in. His body throbbed with a need to connect to her in every possible way, urged him to make love to her right here in the kitchen, but he had no desire to press his luck.

Instead, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, let his fingers trail over her silky skin. “I am very glad that you are.”

****

As the credits rolled down the screen, Angela stifled a yawn and glanced down. Alex lay on his side on the couch beside her, his head in her lap. His gaze on the TV, he trailed the fingers of one hand idly up and down her calf. The living room was lit only by the soft glow of a lamp on an end table, creating a cozy atmosphere that made her sleepy yet comfortable and content.

The whole evening had been that way. After dessert, they’d gone for a walk around Central Park before settling in front of the television to watch another old movie, this one featuring Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn. They’d been sitting in comfortable silence for two hours now.

When the screen changed to a commercial, Alex rolled onto his back. He stared up at her for an endless moment. His fingers stilled, his palm curving around her calf.

“You tired?” he asked.

She slipped her fingers through his hair, brushed it off his forehead, and nodded. “Lack of sleep last night is catching up with me.”

“Me too.” He pulled himself upright then stood and held his hand out to her. “Come on.”

Nervous excitement dancing through her body, she took his hand, and followed silently as he led her through the living room, down the long hallway, to where his bedroom sat at the back of the house. Just inside the room, he turned to her. “Just so you know, I’m not presuming anything.” He tugged her against him, every inch of her pressed lightly to every inch of him. “I’m perfectly content to hold you while I sleep.”

Touched by his words, she laid a hand against his chest. “Me too.”

It had been a long time since she’d fallen asleep wrapped in a man’s embrace. In fact, the last time she had, the arms had been Alex’s. She had to admit she’d been looking forward to this moment all day. That fact scared her to death even as the temptation drew her in, because all she wanted was to crawl into his arms and stay there.

Tonight felt different somehow. Something had shifted between them over the last two days. They were closer than they’d been three months ago, closer then they’d been even a week ago. Gone were the misgivings and hesitations. Companionship had taken its place. They were comfortable, as if they’d been together for years.

For long moments, neither one moved, and awkwardness slowly filled the space around them. Alex let out a quiet, nervous laugh and rubbed a hand over the back of his head. “I haven’t done this in a long time. I have to admit I find myself at a loss.”

His quiet admission and the vulnerability that laced his tone gave Angela a sudden surge of boldness. She pressed herself closer, slid her hands around his ribcage and up his back. “What do you want?”

Desire flared in his eyes, his arms tightening around her, until her breasts flattened against his chest. “The truth?”

She nodded.

“The same thing I want every time you’re in the same room with me—to lose myself in you. When I’m with you…” He let out a quiet groan and brushed his lips across hers. The evidence of his arousal throbbed against her belly, echoing the unbearable ache winding through her. “Everything else ceases to exist, and all I want to do is sink into you and never come out.”

As abruptly as he’d kissed her, he pulled back. He shook his head, torment written on his face. “But considering where my head’s been this weekend, I don’t have the right to ask that much from you.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m content with the fact that you’re here at all.”

Tears welled in her eyes. The man had no idea what he did to her, how his words, the sheer honesty of his admission, wrapped themselves around her heart and had it melting into a puddle at his feet.

She nipped at his bottom lip and repeated the words he’d told her a few weeks ago. “I’m all yours, Alex.”

As if he’d somehow been given the green light he’d been hoping for, a low groan rumbled out of him, and he seized her mouth. He kissed her hard, his mouth moving over hers, hungry, desperate, and unrestrained. His body trembled against hers. The sheer force of his desire did nothing but fuel her own, and she slanted her mouth over his, pouring herself into the exchange.

To hell with tomorrow. She had now and a man who’d wrapped himself around her heart with how kind, considerate, and sweet he could be. She had no desire to deny herself the simple pleasure of being with him.

In that kiss, a moment of consent slipped between them. Hands began to tear at clothing, shoving it out of the way, dropping or tossing pieces to the floor in their effort to seek out every available inch of skin. She shoved his shirt up his chest. He stepped back enough to pull it off over his head before dropping it to the floor and reclaiming her lips. His hands roamed down her sides, seemingly caught between seeking skin and working to open the stubborn button on the front of her shorts.

As he tumbled her, naked and panting, to the bed a few minutes later, and crawled over her, tucking her beneath him, all sense of urgency fled. The tip of his erection nudged her entrance, but instead of sinking into her, Alex brushed her hair back from her face and sat for a moment, gazing down at her.

Angela slid her hands up his back, enjoying the warmth of his body, skin against skin, the delicious weight of him. For a long moment, they lay together, legs entangled, neither saying anything. More intimacy flowed between them than anything she’d ever experienced with David. The room was a play of shadows. Soft light filtered in through the curtained windows from the street below, playing peek-a-boo with the room. A band of moonlight illuminated half of Alex’s face, casting the other in darkness.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He threaded his fingers in her hair and leaned down, pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth before pulling back again. “I’m not sure I would have made it through this weekend without you.”

She shivered at his words, at the emotion wrenched from each one, and arched tighter against him, lifted her head and found his mouth. “Make love to me, Alex.”

His low groan reverberated through his chest as he arched his hips, pushing inside of her. In one agonizingly slow thrust, he filled her, left her gasping and trembling, already teetering on the edge.

“God, I need you, Ang.” He nipped at her bottom lip, whispering the words against her mouth. His body trembled against her. “I need you.”

“Yes,” she whispered, the only word she was capable of as she clutched his back, clinging to his heated body.

As he stared down at her, rocking against her, moving slowly, carefully, within her, their gazes connected. An unspoken acknowledgement passed between them, silent but so tangible she felt an invisible wall shatter. Maybe they both had their reservations about their relationship. She had no idea what the future held for them, but there, in that moment, all that mattered was the need pounding through her.

She needed this man, this intimate connection to him, a union of minds, hearts, and souls. All of which reflected back at her from the deep pools of his eyes.

They moved at the same moment, surging suddenly together with a ferocity that stole the breath from her lungs. Alex reached down, slid a hand beneath her, and dropped his forehead into the curve of her neck, pressing his cheek against hers. His fingers dug into her backside, his hand pulling her somehow tighter against him, as if he wanted simply to crawl inside her skin.

Angela wrapped her arms tight about his shoulders to hold him as close as she possibly could, lifted her head, and buried her face in his neck. The whole of him consumed her, inside of her, above her, his body moving against hers. The clean, spicy scent of his skin assaulted her senses, the salty tang of perspiration against her lips. She gave him everything she had and begged him for more. Alex groaned low in her ear, a sound of agony, torment, oblivion, and obliged, pushing harder, deeper. Like a starburst, her climax exploded through her, bright flashes of color streaking behind her closed eyelids.

“Alex…” Her soft, needy gasp echoed through the silent night as she flew apart at the seams, shattered to the ends of the earth in a million hot little fragments. In that moment, aware only of his erratic breathing in her ear and his body shaking in unison with hers. She felt so vulnerable and yet so safe.

They lay together moments later, their harsh breathing the only sound in the otherwise quiet room, still clinging to each other in the aftermath of an experience that felt more intimate than anything she’d ever experienced. Alex rolled to his side, taking her with him, and wrapped both arms tightly around her, his body still trembling. She tightened her own hold on him and buried her face in the curve of his throat, filling her lungs with his scent. She wanted it imbedded in her memory. Fear pounded in her breast, a sudden panic that if she let him go, he’d somehow disappear. In that moment, the painful truth rose over her, undeniable.

She’d fallen in love with him.

****

Angela woke hours later to a bright, sunlit room, still nestled in Alex’s embrace. He laid behind her now, his body like a second skin against her back, one arm wrapped protectively around her stomach. She lay still, gave herself a moment to luxuriate in the ultimate rightness of being with him this way, but she couldn’t ignore the thought throbbing at the back of her mind.

She’d gone to sleep the night before telling herself it had to be hormones. She’d gotten caught up in the passion. People did it all the time, said things in the heat of the moment they didn’t mean by the light of a new day.

Lying there now, she couldn’t run from the truth. Waking with nothing between them but the sunlight felt like coming home. Here in his arms, she’d found the place her heart belonged. She was his, body and soul. This was where she wanted to be, to wake every morning for the foreseeable future to him.

Tears welled in her eyes. Careful not to wake him, she rolled over to face him, lifted a hand, and traced his features, over the curve of his bisected eyebrow, down his nose, across his lips. With each stroke, the emotion swelled in her chest, unmistakable and undeniable.

Somewhere over the weekend, she’d fallen in love with him.

She bit her bottom lip hard in a vain attempt to stem its quivering as the unbearable pain gripped her chest. She’d sworn she was prepared for this possibility when she’d come out here, but the actuality of it was more than she’d anticipated as reality settled over her. She was desperately in love with a man who would never, could never, love her in return.

Some part of her wished she could hate him. It would make it so much easier. How could she? He was a good man. That was
why
she loved him. She could blame no one but herself. Coming out here, she’d known his heart still belonged to the woman he’d promised his life to.

A woman who wasn’t her. Nothing had been more clear than that this weekend.

Tears flowing freely, her limbs now beginning to tremble, Angela threw back the covers and exited the bed. A desperate need to be somewhere—anywhere—else swelled to life within her. She needed to leave. Her flight left in a few hours, the blissful weekend had come to an end, but she wanted to be out of this house before Alex woke up. It was cowardly, and she knew it. She would have to face him sooner or later. They were having children together, and he would want to see them. But she needed time to get herself together, to somehow prepare herself for having to see him once the babies were born.