Chapter 4

He intercepted her just as she made it to the door and stood there, blocking her exit.

"What are you doing?"

"You ran away once before; I am not letting you do it again. You tore us apart, Cammy, and for what?"

"Move out of my way."

"No. I love you–"

"Don't!"

"I love you," he repeated in a determined voice. She reared back when he reached for her, but he clamped his hands on her arms, keeping her still. "I have always loved you and always will. I did everything possible to get over you.

Took women to my bed, too many to count, I drank and contemplated using drugs but never got around to doing that. Nothing worked. I stayed away from black women because they reminded me of you.

But it made no difference. You were etched on my brain, in my blood, and I could not remove you. I tried. I did, and when I had sex, I had to keep my eyes open because if they were closed, I would see you–"His hands crept up to her face. "It was always you, and I am not letting you go again."

"We can't go back," she whispered, her body trembling.

"Then let's go forward."

"Hayes, please, I cannot do this. You don't understand." In her effort to plead with him, she spread her hands on his chest, jolting as the warmth of his skin was felt through his clothing.

"I have nightmares, terrible ones, and coming back here has brought them back. I am just trying to find my way, I am damaged, and I cannot be with anyone, not even you. You said you used women to forget us—what we were, but I could not bear for anyone to touch me, a man's touch revolts me, so I couldn't do it–" She heaved out a breath.

"You have been the only one and I—sex is distasteful to me, I cannot–"Her voice trailed away, the breath backing up inside her throat. "I can't. It's no use, and I am asking you to let me go."

His heart shuddered at the pain in her voice, but the import of the words she said hit him like a ton of bricks.

He was the only man for her. Even after all these years, he had been the only man who had the privilege of making love to her. Of feeding on those lush and sweet nipples of hers. Of driving into the tightness that had wrapped around him like a glove.

He had been with many women, even before they were together. When he was a teen, girls had offered themselves to him and he had not refused. After he met her, she had been the only one for him because he could not bear to look at another.

After she left and his heart had shattered inside his chest, he had tried to seek solace with other women, and it never worked. Now she was back; now they had established that she still loved him; there was no way in hell he was going to step aside and let her go. He couldn't do it.

"We'll take it slow–"

"No."

"We'll start over." His tone was impeccable as he lifted her chin. "We never did that as a teen. The passion ignited between us so quickly that it swept us up and carried us along. We couldn't control our desires for each other. We were young and had no idea what to do. This time, we will take our time, get to know each other."

She actually stamped her foot in frustration and tried to ignore the hope flaring inside her chest. "You are not listening. Do you think that because you are Hayes Marsden, you get to do whatever you please? That my opinion does not count? I cannot be with you, and I would like you to respect that."

His fingers tightened on her chin, and she felt a slither of alarm as she watched his face change.

She knew every nuance and had studied his handsome face until it was etched inside her brain. His eyes darkened, the emotions shifting subtly, and even before he bent his head toward hers, she knew what was coming and could not stop it. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, her breath coming in rapid pants.

She knew she should stop him, stop this, but oh, she needed it. His breath stirred her lips, mingling with hers and causing a faintness that shimmered throughout her body. Her lips parted in expectation and anticipation, fingers curling tighter in the fabric of his shirt.

Twelve years vanished as if it had never been. The years, the anger, the pain, and the suffering dissipated into nothing when his lips touched hers.

The passion ignited, bursting into flames, and that was before his tongue plunged into her mouth. Someone moaned; they could not say which of them did as their mouths crushed each other's, their bodies melting.

Hayes felt the fire uncoiling, burning a path through his body as the familiar sweetness of her mouth assailed his senses. Her breasts were pressed up against his chest, and he could feel himself hardening, his penis lengthening, his heart racing inside his chest.

With his tongue slowly stroking hers, he stirred the embers into flames that were soon eating away at them. Before long, the passion was driving them and whipping them into a frenzy that made the kisses of the past almost like a pale shadow!

He had to have more, he thought feverishly, hands roaming restlessly up and down her body. The need to feel her was so scorching; he felt as if he was being burned as if the fire was raining down on him.

Dragging his mouth from hers, he buried his face in her neck as he fought to control the madness that was taking over. Lifting his head, he stared at her hungrily, green eyes glowing as he took in the parted lips, swollen and moist from his ravishing kisses.

"I need you," he told her boldly.

"No." Taking a deep breath, she started to push him away, but he would not budge; instead, his head swooped down, and he captured her lips again.

She put up a token resistance, but it was no use. As soon as his tongue met hers, she was lost. Her hands swept up and around his neck, her starved body pressed against his in complete surrender.

The second he felt her capitulation, Hayes took advantage, his hands moving toward her ribcage, feeling for her breasts. His touch through the fabric of the material sent heat straight to the core of her and had her moving even closer, her fingers digging into the nape of his neck.

The touch of her, the scent of her perfume was maddening and the need to feel her skin against his more than he could bear. But he was afraid to stop kissing her. The potent physical contact was the only thing keeping her here and he was not letting her go.

Sliding his hands from her neck, he shoved the shoulders of her peasant-style blouse down until he had left her upper body bare. His groan was stifled by her mouth as he unhooked the front clasp of her bra and dragged it down. His hands cupped her bare flesh, his knees weakening at the familiar feel of her flawless skin.

During their first encounter as lovers when they were just fifteen, she had been shy and uncertain about her voluptuous curves and had tried to hide to cover herself up from him.

"You are beautiful," he had told her with ragged sincerity and had meant every word of it. Now, feeling the generous breasts, the smooth nipples he had spent so many minutes giving special attention to he almost lost his mind.

He was about to end the kiss and insist on them going to the comfortable sofa when she started tugging at his shirt. Before he could help, she was dragging at the material hard enough to send buttons flying.

Her aggression and impatience had poignant memories swamping him. Lifting his head, he gazed at her in wonder, his heart hammering, the passion so vital, he had no idea what to say.

"I want to feel you," she whispered.

Swallowing the lump inside his throat, he shrugged out of the shirt and tugged the undershirt over his head, dropping it to the floor.

Camelia gazed at the smooth, muscular chest in wonder. There were many nights she dreamed about his golden skin, the feel of the muscles flexing beneath her touch as it was doing now.

Spreading her hands over the wide expanse of flesh, she lifted her head, her eyes meeting his as she continued to explore. Hayes stood absolutely still, hardly daring to breathe as her fingers moved slowly over his nipples. His eyes were stormy, his body aching, but he wanted to please her.

"I used to accuse you of being just a mindless jock," she whispered, feeling the flesh leap as she continued to stroke the tight bud.

"You said I was too pretty and too rich to have any brain cells rasped.

"You proved me wrong when we started studying together." She would pretend that this was the past, and what had happened between then and now had never occurred. "You showed me up several times in French and History."

"You were so damn competitive, it was exhausting." Her hands were moving toward his belt, nails grazing his flat stomach, and he knew very soon he was going to have to end their journey.

"I enjoyed our sparring, almost as much as I enjoyed our lovemaking–"She gasped when he clamped his hands on hers.

"I cannot stand it," he told her hoarsely.

Taking her hand, he led her without protest over the wide comfortable sofa where he pushed her down gently.

Going on his knees, he worked off her ankle boots and put them aside, his eyes never leaving hers. She had no intention of protesting. She needed him, needed this and she was no longer foolish enough to deny herself. Deny them both.

Next, he took off the blouse and bra before placing his fingers inside the waistband of her dress pants and tugging it down. His breath caught inside his throat as he gazed at the flesh-colored panties that hugged her sex.

His head lifted to look at her and the message was clear enough to have her breathing hard. His handsome face was hard, taut with passion, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Rising, he toed off his Italian loafers and kicked them away before tugging off the belt and unzipping his trousers. She watched, hypnotized, as he pushed it down over his narrow hips and kicked them away.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as she gazed at the bulge in his underwear. The first time he had stripped naked in her room, she had been afraid and told him she was afraid he was going to hurt her. He had assured her that he would do his best to minimize the pain.

"It's going to hurt no matter what I do, but I will be gentle."

And he had been. After the pain had disappeared, the feel of him had been so exquisitely sensual it had sent her flying.

Hunkering down, he moved between her thighs. The moment was poignant between them, sending them back to the past. He couldn't believe she was here with him again, like this.

He had spent years trying to get her out of his mind, telling himself that he was over her. Cupping her face between his palms, he gazed at her mutely before lowering his head. The kiss was gentle, just a brush of his lips against hers.

Her arms came up around his neck, her fingers toying with the fringes of hairs at his nape. Refusing to think of anything else but this very moment, just being here with him, she opened her mouth and drew his tongue into her mouth.

His gasp filled her like music. During the times they had been together, he had taught her how to please him, and she had been an avid student. She had also not forgotten.

Hayes had intended to take it slow, draw out the incredible delight of having her in his arms, but her initiative was driving him crazy, her teeth nibbling on his tongue sending sparks of fire throughout his body.

Pushing her back against the cushions, he climbed on top of her, deepening the kiss, his hands digging into her hair and sending pins flying. Her hands wandered over the corded muscles of his shoulders, his back in restless passion.

"Cammy!" Dragging his lips from hers, he trailed hot kisses down her cheek. "Cammy!" He kissed her neck, the hollow of her throat, before moving down to her generous breasts, where he paused to look in awe.

"Hayes." Her soft voice, loaded with emotions, had him bending his head. The touch of his tongue swirling around the tight bud sent her flying. Her head moved restlessly on the cushions, fingers gripping his shoulders as he tugged the tight bud into his mouth and suckled hungrily.

Her body fragmented, and after being starved for more than twelve years, Camelia felt as if she was breaking into tiny pieces. She had forgotten—Oh good Lord, she had forgotten the sensations, the pit of fire starting in the pit of her stomach and traveling all the way to her heart. Nothing in her dreams compared to the real thing.

When he reached between them and touched the sensitive flesh, she came. Her body arched, reaching for what he was offering, her heart racing as the climax slammed through her like a violent storm.

It had to be now, Hayes thought feverishly. Lifting his mouth from her nipple, he climbed on top of her, eyes holding hers as he slid slowly inside her. Gritting his teeth, he eased in even more until he was fully sheathed. It was home.

Finally, he was where he belonged. Sliding his palm over hers, he linked their fingers in silent and utter commitment to the only woman he had ever loved.

Her eyes were bright and there were no words between them, there was no need for words, their bodies melting against each other told the entire story. Camelia lifted her free hand to brush back the hairs at his temple, her eyes bright and luminous with passion.

He watched as she continued to trail her fingers over his jaw and then the indentation in his chin. "It's still there." she whispered teasingly.

"You made fun of me and said I had a manufacturing defect."

"You then pointed to my dimples and told me I had a worse deal."

His breath shuddered out as he continued to stare at her. There were so many things he wanted to say, but now was not the time. Bending his head, he kissed her as he started moving slowly, determined to drag it out for as long as possible. He wanted to savor being with her like this.

Feeling the pressure starting at the base of his stomach, he fought the frustration. Dragging his lips from hers, he answered the unspoken question in her eyes.

"I don't want to come yet, he whispered thickly. Easing out of her was such exquisite torture that he could hardly bear it. Placing his weight on his right elbow, he gazed down at the woman who was the only one who could ignite so much passion in him.

"I need you back inside me," she told him throatily, trailing her fingers over his chest.

"Please."

His control broke, and he drove into her with a force that sent her head up against the arm of the sofa. She came again, her body quivering as she called out his name. Dragging his head down, she sought his lips, her cries swallowed deep inside his throat.

It was not long before he was following behind her, his body shuddering as he poured his seed into her, watering the head of her womb.

Collapsing on top of her, he just managed to shift so that he was not crushing her. Still intimately joined, he wrapped his arms around her and waited for the storm to pass.

After a few long minutes, he spoke. "I am going to break it off with Simone tomorrow."

"No."

His body stiffened in surprise. "Pardon?"

Lifting her head, she met his gaze. "I cannot be with you." "I thought I heard you say you could not be with me."

"Yes. I don't have anything to offer you."

"Camelia–"

"Please hear me out." She looked at him pleadingly. "I cannot bear to be in a relationship, not now. We both needed this, and it was wonderful, but I cannot do this again. It almost destroyed me, and I cannot take that risk again. I am sorry."

"Is that right?" The dangerous glitter in his eyes warned her of what was about to happen. "What do you suggest, Camelia? That we both go our separate ways and forget this ever happened? That I go back to Simone as if nothing went on between us?"

"You don't understand," she whispered.

"Then please enlighten me," he said coolly.

"I hate when you get all snobby and king of the world." she muttered.

The comparison had always amused him in the past, but now it just flew right over his head.

"I am waiting."

"Okay, fine. I don't want a relationship."

"Because?"

"We—it was too much, and there have been too many things between us. I lost my parents, and I am still dealing with that. I lost our baby and almost lost my life in the process. I have been to therapy, and I still have nightmares. Besides that, I cannot give you an heir–"

"I don't care about that."

"You do!" She slapped her palms on his chest. "You know you do. You are the heir to a multi-billion-dollar company, and it's required and don't you dare insult me by brushing this aside." Her eyes were glittering with tears.

"A man like you wants someone—a son to take over for you when the time comes, and I won't be able to give you that." She drew an unsteady breath. "You are going to say it's all right now and further down the road, you are going to resent me for not conceiving. I cannot take that risk."

"Are you through?" he asked her stonily, feeling his heart drumming inside his chest and realizing it for what it was—fear. He could not lose her again; he wouldn't survive a second time.

"Yes."

"I am not letting you go."

"I cannot–"

"Shut up."

She bristled at his tone but did not comment.

"There are doctors and resources that can take care of the problem. I have enough money to spend in order to solve that problem. If it's something that cannot be fixed, there are other ways. The most important thing is us being together."

"No." She shook her head stubbornly, tamping down the hope flaring inside her breast. "I don't want a relationship. Go to Simone…"er voice trailed off at the furious look on his face.

Pushing her away, he rose gracefully and without putting on his clothes, walked over to the cabinet and pressed the button. It slid out silently, and plucking a bottle of scotch from the assortment, he poured half into a glass and turned back toward her.

Her breath caught inside her throat as she stared at his magnificent body. His shoulders and chest were broad, the muscles rippling as he lifted the glass to his lips and stared at her over the rim.

"Let me see if I understand you. This is only a one-time thing between us, even though we love each other."

Sitting up, she tugged a throw blanket and pulled it over her. "I need time."

"I see. How much?"

Her fingers gripped the blanket. "Several weeks."

His eyes flared. "And what am I supposed to do in those several weeks?"

"Continue with your relationship." She flinched at the furious look on his face and plunged on. "This might just be something we needed to get out of our system. If not, we could see each other in secret–" he stuttered to a stop as he tossed back the drink and moved with panther-like grace toward the sofa.

"Are you listening to yourself?"

"I need time," she whispered. "I cannot come back to you and pretend that nothing ever happened. I just can't do it."

He stood there staring at her for so long that she had to force herself not to fidget.

Turning away, he gathered up her clothes and tossed them to her. "Take all the time you need."