“It’ll be my secret weapon.”
Leo snorted, and everything in her softened. She leaned closer to kiss him, enjoying the slide of her breasts against his pecs. The instant their lips met, something clicked inside her, almost like a key sliding into a lock. Everything about this moment seemed right. Perfect. She sighed against his mouth and explored his lips with her tongue.
Leo took over the kiss, and she let him, instead focusing on the heat of his mouth, the way his touch propelled sensual flames through her veins. The solid strength of him and the way he excited her made her happy. So happy, but strangely, this emotion seemed fresh and unusual as if everything was new. But, given the short duration of their marriage, she supposed it was a novelty.
Her hands roved his muscles—his arms and pecs—before she wriggled down his body. Smiling, she ran her fingers over his belly, using a firm pressure rather than seeking to tease. His nostrils flared, his regard steady as she lifted off him.
“You must train a lot to maintain your fitness and strength.” Gwenyth pulled a face. “It pains me to ask because I know this stuff, but every time I try to access the information, my head aches.”
His big hand landed on her thigh. “It’s not important, my lodestone. Your memories will return in time.”
“You hope,” she retorted.
“I hope,” he agreed. “But it’s not so bad getting to know me—us—again, is it?”
“I’m worried you’ll get impatient.” The words emerged without thought, and they shocked her. Leo didn’t seem the intolerant type. He had given no irritated comebacks, not a hint of exasperation. Yet a sense of discord troubled her.
A mystery something lurked in the depths of her mind.
Something worrying.
This Tony?
She had no idea.
“Never, my lodestone. Never.”
His words should’ve reassured her, yet an instinct gnawed and worried at the black hole in her mind. Confusion fluttered in her stomach and tightened her chest. Her thoughts froze—the ones she could still access, at least.
He’d shown her nothing except support and kindness and…and love.
“My lodestone, as much as I’d enjoy making love with you, why don’t we wait? Your mind is elsewhere. I’m here. You’re here. We have all the time in the world.”
Leo’s tone was soothing and full of empathy. Not a trace of aggravation oozed from him, yet her tension rose. A memory of a blow. A slap across the face.
Gwenyth forced a smile. “Maybe you’re right. My head is aching again.”
“Don’t let your apprehension win. Think of this as an opportunity for us to fall in love a second time.”
She melted as Leo drew her into his brawny arms. He kissed her with a gentleness that had her mind returning to sex.
She wanted him.
Fact.
Which made her hesitation and wandering mind more puzzling.
She yawned without warning, and Leo laughed—the sound low and musical.
“And you’re also exhausted. You’ve had an eventful day. Try to sleep.”
Gwenyth wanted to object, yet she couldn’t stop her eyes from closing and another yawn escaping. She wasn’t sure whether it was the blow to her head or something else, but everything about Leo seemed unfamiliar. It was part of the reason she’d wanted to make love with him—to reconnect, or at least to reestablish the bonds they’d enjoyed before her accident had jolted her out of her standard groove.
Although her eyes were closed, she strained to recall the boat capsizing and came up blank. Even thinking about this mystery Tony propelled shards of pain through her skull. She frowned into her pillow because nothing made sense. Trying to force the memories hurt, so she released her worry and let sleep take her.
By the time she woke, night had turned to morning. She rolled over and discovered she was alone in the gigantic bed. The sheets on the far side held no body warmth. Where was Leo? Unaccountably, his absence bothered her.
She slid off the bed and dressed in the stack of clothes she found on the dresser—a pair of tight-fitting black trousers—slightly too big for her—and a warm shirt that hung to mid-thigh. In the kitchen, she discovered a note from Leo, which she skimmed. At least he’d left a note. His thoughtfulness counteracted her pique.
