WORTHY, Part 1 (10 page)

Almost too slowly, Jonathan dipped a finger into
my body, caressing me from the inside out as he continued to lap at my clit. The build was irresistible, and after trying to resist for all of a handful of seconds, I grabbed his hair and cried out at my completion. I saw stars, felt tears spring to my eyes, was aware that this was nothing like any of my own sessions with my romance novels.

This was real. This was two people loving each other. This was love.

Jonathan trailed kisses back up my body until he kissed me again, his lips still wet with my juices. It was incredibly kinky.

“You tell me,” he said. “You tell me to stop and I’ll stop. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t ever stop,” I said.

He positioned the head of his shaft at
my entrance, the echoes of pleasure still pulsing through my body, and started pressing in. I gasped, opening my legs and body to him, the feeling of him burying himself inside me strange and a little uncomfortable but utterly rewarding. I watched his eyes flutter shut as he lost himself in me.

When
I felt the curls between his legs mingle with the curls between mine, I knew that he was inside me fully. It was an almost spiritual realization—our bodies were joined together. I never wanted them to be apart again.

“Are you all right?” he asked, planting kisses on
my forehead before rearing back to look at the expression on my face.

“I couldn’t be better,”
I said, smiling up at him. “Now make love to me.”

“So demanding,” Jonathan said, grinning and withdrawing until it was just the tip of him in
me, a maddening, teasing feeling that made me buck. Then, he slid fully into me again, slow, smooth, and so sweet.

I
didn’t know how long he kept that up, just sliding in and out of me, filling me and emptying me, giving me the world and taking it away again, driving me crazy.

“Faster,”
I moaned, holding on to his arms. “Please.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promised, picking up his pace and making the world melt away. The only thing that mattered was the man in front of
me, above me, inside me, and then the growing pressure, the incessant strumming of something deep inside of me, a pulse that shot through my body with every thrust, and finally a second climax.

I
cried out, my voice raw, clutching at Jonathan, holding on to him for dear life.

“God,
Michelle,” he said, and groaned, his muscles shaking as he filled me with his own completion.

We
rested on the blanket together, the cottonwood puffs collecting in the long grass, Jonathan still inside of me, and I realized that there was no place I’d rather be—ever.

Waking up was different now. From the moment
I opened my eyes and became aware of the wind and the birdsong, I knew that things would never be the same.

Things would never be the same and
I loved it.

I
rolled over, leaving the cool comfort of my pillow to bury my face in the crook of Jonathan’s neck and steal just a few more minutes of slumber before leaving the bed, and was surprised to find his side empty. Pressing my face in the indention of his pillow, I inhaled, smelling the soap we shared. There wasn’t a trace of warmth left on the pillow. How long had Jonathan been awake?

I
shook off the last vestiges of sleep and rolled out of bed, padding across the floor and picking a little at my nightgown as I went.

“Jonathan?”

My voice rang through the cottage, and I knew he wasn’t inside before I even waited for a response. I had lived alone for so long that I knew when I was truly alone.

Where had he gone? He usually liked to stay in bed until
I was awake, holding me to his body until I rolled over and kissed him.

I
found a pot of fresh coffee in the kitchen with a note. “Drink me,” it read. I smiled, pouring a cup. I’d been making my own coffee for years, but something about Jonathan’s was much more delicious. I wondered if it was because of the time we were spending together, the things we did to each other. I smiled as I wrapped my hands around the hot mug of coffee and pressed my legs together a little. It stunned me that even the thought of Jonathan turned me on. I mulled over the idea of touching myself to relieve some of the pressure, but sex was sweeter with him. I was willing to put off my own pleasure now in order to have a richer, fuller shared pleasure later.

Later, whenever
I found Jonathan.

More intrigued than troubled,
I sipped my coffee and sat at the kitchen table in nothing but my nightgown. If it were up to Jonathan, we’d sleep in nothing at all. He said it got in the way of what we were going to be doing anyway, but I enjoyed the ritual of taking off our clothes, of unwrapping each other like presents. He could deal with us continuing to wear pajamas to bed. I liked the feel of them coming off way too much to give it up.

I
blinked, rubbing at my apparently still sleepy eyes. There was a container resting on the table that I’d only just noticed. That was a testament to the fact of just how much I thought about Jonathan. I couldn’t see something two feet in front of me thinking about someone I wanted on top of me.

There was another note attached to the top of the container. “Eat me,” this one read. “Drink me,” “Eat me”? This was starting to become a little like “Alice in Wonderland.”
I hoped I didn’t shrink or grow, like in the story. I opened the container to find some fresh muffins. Smiling, I bit into one—yum. It was perfectly fluffy and flavorful, studded with berries. I had faith that Jonathan could surpass my own skills in the kitchen if he stuck with it. He was turning out to be a natural.

Washing down the last of
my muffin with a swig of coffee, I saw another note hanging on the doorknob. I lifted it and smiled. “Come find me,” it read, and I knew that something was afoot. Something fun.

I
finished the last of the coffee and went to brush my teeth and get dressed. I pulled my hair back in front of the mirror and fastened it in place with a comb. Glancing at my scar, I put my hair down again.

“Come on,”
I muttered at my reflection. The lesson that Jonathan had taught me in front of the mirror was that I was beautiful no matter what. Why was I still having trouble believing him? He obviously saw something special in me that was having a hard time presenting itself to me.

I
yanked my hair back so forcefully from my face that I winced at the pull, jamming the comb through my curls. I looked nice, even with the scar. No, that wasn’t right. The scar—the scar didn’t matter, right? No, of course it mattered. It mattered so much. It was the outward sign of the loss I felt every day. The mark that my future had ended the same night as the car crash.

The loss, however,
was getting easier to bear now that I had someone to bear it with. I still felt the old, dull ache in my gut when I thought about my parents, but it didn’t cut as keenly. Jonathan was responsible for that. The act of sharing, of talking about my past—no matter the details I’d left out—with him had helped immensely.

I
studied myself in the mirror, my hair pulled back how I liked it even if I was too nervous to actually wear it like that in front of Jonathan. What was this brave new world I was entering? How could this really be my life?

I
shook my head and left the bathroom, pausing in the bedroom to slip on a blouse and a skirt. It was time to continue playing Jonathan’s game. I was pleased to do so—and very interested in what the rules and spoils would be.

I
walked out the door to find him standing in the middle of the field, smiling at me.

“You need a better place to hide,”
I called, closing the door behind me as I made my way toward him. “Or a brighter shirt, maybe. You could be a flower.”

The grass and flowers in the field
stood, in some places, at hip height. The recent rains had turned everything from crispy straw to lush, green grass. It was beautiful, but I only had eyes for Jonathan.

“I didn’t want to hide from you,” he said. “What’s the fun in that?”

“The fun is I get to find you and chase you,” I said, kissing him lightly on the lips as I reached where he was standing.

“We’ll have to consider
that soon,” he said thoughtfully. “I could think of some interesting twists to that game.”

His emphasis on “interesting” made
me blush and look forward to it at the same time.

“So what’s your game today?”
I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No game,” he said, holding out a flower for
me to take.

“That’s my favorite
kind,” I said, grinning at the Queen Anne’s lace he held, a long, graceful stem topped with tiny white flowers, and thinking back to our first time together.

“I know,” he
teased. “I’ve seen you admiring them.”

“How do you know me so well?”
I wondered, taking the flower and twirling it in my fingers. “I wish we knew as much about you as you know about me.”

“I think we’ll have plenty of time to figure me out,” Jonathan said.

“What does that mean?” I asked, frowning. “Have you remembered something?”

“I would call it more of a realization than a remembering,” he said, sinking to his knees.
I tried to catch him, to keep him standing and on his feet, worried that he was feeling faint or something, but he remained stubbornly on bended knee.

“You took me in, a stranger, when you didn’t have to,” he began.

“That’s not true,” I interrupted, not understanding what was happening. “You were injured. The creek was flooding. I couldn’t have just left you there.”

Jonathan laughed. “I stand corrected. You took me in, a stranger, because your heart is so big that you can’t not rescue something that needs rescuing. You risked your life and showed incredible strength in getting me to safety.”

“I work a lot outside, as you’ve learned,” I cut in. “I guess I’m—not to brag—strong. I carry a lot of heavy stuff when I’m working around here. I chop firewood for winter. It’s just that—it wasn’t incredible strength. It was just what I needed to do—what I needed to make happen for that moment.”

“All right, chatty,” Jonathan said, crossing his arms in mock admonition. “I know that you’ve been all alone out here with no one to talk to for five years, but you’re going to have to let me say what I want to say. Got it?”

“Sorry,” I said, giggling and blushing. “I just want to make sure you’ve got it all right.”

“Of course I have it all right,” he said, taking
my hand and kissing it. “You’re an incredible woman, Michelle. You’re the strongest woman with the biggest heart I’ve ever met.”

I
snorted. “You can’t remember any of the other women you’ve ever met,” I pointed out, grinning.

Jonathan raised his eyebrows at
me. “One more interruption, missy, and you’re going to be in big trouble. Maybe you won’t get to hear what I want to say after all.”

“Okay, okay,”
I said, putting my hands up. “Not another peep from me. Promise.”

He cleared his throat dramatically before continuing. “In the time we’ve known each other, you’ve opened your life to me even though you had taken yourself away from people. It’s made me realize that I want to spend the rest of my life with someone so good, so wonderful, so strong, and so beautiful.”

Tears filled my eyes. I finally understood what was happening. The magnitude of the moment filled me with shock and, weak in the knees, I sank down to Jonathan’s level.

“Are you all right?” he asked, putting his hand on
my shoulder. I nodded, my eyes bright with unshed tears.

“I can’t offer you anything
from my past,” Jonathan said, “but I can offer you my entire future. Michelle, will you marry me?”

Even if
I’d anticipated the words that he would say, it made hearing them no less powerful. I took in a big gulp of air before the tears that had been shimmering in my eyes spilled down my cheeks. Was this really happening to me? Could Jonathan actually love me enough to want to marry me—scar and past and all? It was almost hard to believe, easier to withdraw into myself, to hide from the enormity of this future.

With a rush of understanding,
however, I realized that I loved him enough to spend the rest of my life with him, too. We loved each other, and we wanted to be with each other. It was so simple but so profound.

“You can talk now,” Jonathan said, looking worried. “No big trouble. In fact, please talk, chatty.”

I burst out laughing through my tears. “Yes, of course,” I said. “Of course I’ll marry you. I love you.”

“That’s settled then,” Jonathan said, so obviously relieved that it made
me continue to laugh. We kissed, smiling against each other’s mouths. I couldn’t stop laughing—or crying. Emotion overwhelmed me, emotion for the man in front of me. I cared deeply about him. I could see our lives intertwining. I could see us growing old together.

“I would like to get you a ring someday, somehow,” he said, interrupting
my thoughts.

“I don’t need a ring,”
I said quickly, shaking my head.

“There you go, interrupting again,” Jonathan scolded.

“Hey, you’re the one who said I could talk again,” I said, shrugging and giggling.

“True,” he said with a sad sigh. “But you deserve the biggest diamond money can buy. You’re a gem in my life,
Michelle, whether you realize it or not. I don’t value anything more. Even if my memory never returns, I know that I’ll be making new memories with you. And I can’t think of anything better than that.”

Could this man get any sweeter?
I melted, bursting out into joyful sobs, tears running down my cheeks. How did I get so lucky? I hadn’t done a thing to deserve stumbling across Jonathan in the woods that stormy day. I didn’t deserve such a deep love.

“This crying,” he said slowly, catching a tear with his finger as it slipped down
my face. “Is it a good thing or a bad thing?”

“A good thing,”
I said, smiling. “I just love you so much. You’re so wonderful, Jonathan. I think I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the world,” he said fervently. “You deserve more than the world.”

I shook my head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“A ring,” he insisted. “But until then, please take this as a token of our engagement. It’s the best I could do.”

He’d had one of his hands behind his back this whole time, I realized. When he brought it out, clutching a gorgeous bouquet, I got emotional again.

“No more crying, or you can’t have the flowers,” Jonathan warned. “A man can only take so many tears
—happy or not. I never want to be the cause of your tears.”

“They’re beautiful,”
I said, taking the flowers. He’d picked as many stalks of Queen Anne’s lace as he could find, it seemed, and plucked a single black-eyed Susan to place in the very middle of the bunch of white blooms. The yellow and black of the single flower stood out beautifully.

“I know that Queen Anne’s lace is your favorite, but I’m a little partial to the black-eyed Susan,” Jonathan said.

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to love you any more than I do right now,” I said. “I don’t think it’s possible for so much love to be inside my heart. I feel like bursting.”

“I have the perfect remedy for that,” Jonathan said, holding
me and kissing me tenderly. “Let me make love to you.”

“I’m yours,”
I breathed, my eyes closed, my body ready for him.

Jonathan laid
me gently on the ground. When I opened my eyes, the wildflowers in the field towered over me. I clutched my bouquet and smiled up at him—my fiancé. My future husband. My love.