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Chapter 9

She was upset. He knew her well, and being apart for twelve years had not changed that. He also heard it in her tone when he called her earlier to tell her that he would be late.

And he could see it in the rigid lines of her shoulders and the fact that she turned her head away when he tried to kiss her so that his lips grazed her cheek.

Pulling out of his arms, she marched up the stairs, leaving him to follow, and he did, a frown touching his brow. He had stopped by his place to pick up a change of clothing for tomorrow.

Putting the overnight case in the corner of the room, he took off his jacket and sat down to take off his shoes, watching as she sat at the vanity stool and started to brush her hair.

He knew her ritual well, he thought with a whimsical smile. He had offered to help her by brushing the thick, dark brown strands while they sat in bed. The familiarity of what she was doing hit him, and he realized how much he had missed being with her like this.

"Are you going to tell me, or should I try and find out what's bothering you."

She met his eyes in the mirror briefly before attending to the task of wrapping her hair into a bun on top of her head. "Your girlfriend came to see me today."

He went still, his hand arrested as he was about to unbutton his shirt. "Simone?"

"Unless you have more than one woman you have been seeing recently." Slamming the brush down, she turned to face him, dark brown eyes glittering.

"What did she want?"

"It certainly was not to wish me all the best and to thank me for taking you off her hands."

"Enough with the sarcasm," he said impatiently, jerking the shirt off his shoulders. "What did she say?"

"Oh, she had lots to say. She seemed to know a hell of a lot about what went on between us. You basically told her what a bitch I was and how I went away to get rid of our baby."

He opened his mouth to deny it and then closed it. "I was hurting."

"So, your only option– your only choice was to badmouth me to the woman you were sleeping with. I understand completely."

"I was angry–"

"So was I!" she shouted. "And I was the one going through all that shit. And I never once said a single thing about you to my aunt. Not once."

"What would you have had to say? I was the one you left behind."

"And here we go again. You had no right discussing me with that woman. She said you confided in her while you were wrapped up in her arms, naked. I hate you for that, Hayes. I keep picturing you naked and on top of her, deep inside her–"

"Damn you! Stop it! What the hell did you expect me to do? I thought I had lost you. I did what I could to try and survive."

"And I couldn't bear any man to touch me. But you did the opposite. God!" She fisted her hands and banged them on her knees. "You should go home."

He went still, green eyes watching her. "No."

"I don't want you here. Just go, Hayes. I sat there talking to your ex, and all I could see, all I could picture were your hands all over her body, your fingers driving into her the way you do when we are making love. Did you go down on her, too?"

Before he could deny it, she saw the guilty look on his face. The sharp pain inside her stole her breath. "I would like you to go."

"You are not being fair." Walking swiftly toward her, he hunkered down, eyes bright with regret. "I thought you were gone forever. What I said to her was in a moment of weakness. I was angry and bitter that you could leave so easily without looking back, without getting in touch with me. Yes, I was with her physically–"

"You were incredibly intimate with her, and I cannot stand it," she whispered achingly. "I keep picturing the two of you together and it makes me sick to my stomach. You are the only man for me because I could not bear to have anyone else touching me. You feel something for her, please don't insult me by denying it."

"I won't." Taking her hands in his, he resisted her efforts to pull away. "I cared about her and thought that eventually we could have a life together.

But you came back, and I realized that there could be no one else for me." His hands tightened on hers. "I wanted to forget Cammy; I wanted to erase the past and get on with my life. You cannot blame me for that."

"No," she acknowledged wearily. "When she spoke about the baby…" She shook her head. "They said it wasn't quite a baby yet, but to me, it was.

I was already thinking about names." Tears clouded her eyes, and he felt regret and pain surging through him. "And to hear her talk about my baby—our baby, made me want to strike her. I cannot do this–"

"No." He gripped her so tight that she could not move. "Whatever I have to do in order to make it up to you, I will. Just say the word." His handsome face was strained. "I have lost so many years, and I cannot lose another minute.

Let me hold you, at least. I won't make love to you even if I am bursting at the seams. I will be here just holding you, but I am not leaving."

"Hayes–"

"Dammit, Cammy! Don't do this to me."

"Okay." Closing her eyes briefly, she allowed him to pull her up and lead her to the bed. Letting go of her, he finished undressing and got in next to her. After a slight hesitation, she went into his arms, her body trembling slightly as she inhaled his scent.

"What can I do?" he asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.

"Nothing. Just hold me.," she whispered. "I was just thinking about that day at the park."

"What day?" He felt the awful tension leaving his body when he realized that she was no longer angry.

"The day you bought me a cherry and vanilla swirl."

A smile touched his lips. "You were mad at me, and I was trying to diffuse the anger."

"You were out with Chad and Brian, and I couldn't get hold of you. We were supposed to meet to go over some things for the upcoming French exam."

"And instead, I went to check out this sweet ride Chad had just received for his birthday." Tilting his head down, he shook his head. "You refused to speak to me for the entire night. I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I."

His eyes darkened. "The next day, you ignored me at school, and I couldn't perform on the football field."

"I went to the park, and you followed me and bought me the ice cream." Lifting her head, she stared at him, eyes wandering over his face. "You fed it to me and asked me to forgive you."

"You finally did." His fingers trailed over her cheek slowly. "As I am asking you now." He continued thickly. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know," she whispered. His long finger traced the outline of her bottom lip, a gasp escaping him when she opened her mouth and captured it, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin before tugging it into her mouth and sucking hard.

"Cammy, what are you doing?"

"I want you to forget her." Pushing him back against the pillows, she took off her robe.

"I don't–"

"I want to forget too." Sliding the sash from her robe, she lifted his hands and tied them together over his head.

"Baby–"

"Make me forget." She looped the silk around the slats of the bed head and tied it. "I want to do things to you so that you will forget everyone else. I need this. I cannot bear the thought of the other women you have been with."

"They meant nothing." He tugged at the restraint, wanting—no need to hold her, to assure her that every other woman paled in comparison to her.

"I need this." Sandwiching him between her thighs, she leaned forward to brush the lock of blonde hair off his forehead.

"I can't–"

"You can. You will." Trailing a finger down his sculpted cheek, she watched as his eyes darkened. "I saw a sculptor in a gallery in Rome, Galleria Borghese, one that reminded me so much of you that I used to go there whenever I was in the country."

She traced the shape of his lip before tracing the dent in his chin. "I missed you so much that I would pretend–"

"Pretend what?" He had to swallow the lump in his throat as she moved down to his neck.

"That I was going to see you." Her hands were splayed on the smooth chest, and she watched as the muscles flinched. "I met someone—his name was Claude, and he was French and blonde.

He wore his hair the same way you wore it when you were younger." His stomach clenched, and he felt himself hardening when she started kissing his nipples. "I tried to have sex with him–"

Jealousy flared inside his chest. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I just wanted you to know."

"You said there was no one else." He tugged at the restraint again without success.

"There wasn't. I couldn't go through with it." Her body drifted to his flat stomach, and he felt the passion roaring inside him as her rigid nipples trailed over his skin. "I tried because I was so desperate."

His stomach was quivering, and he felt helpless, his body raging out of control, and that was before she touched her lips to his swollen flesh.

"Sweetheart." His body arched, and he watched, fascinated, as she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking the hot flesh. "I cannot stand it."

"I just want to taste you."

"Cammy–" he broke off with a tortured groan. Holding him between her fingers, she touched her tongue to the reddened tip and had him twisting his body toward her.

Camelia had meant it as a game, a way to punish him, but something else had taken over. As soon as she took him into her mouth, he was lost. The tenuous hold on his control dissipated into nothingness as she took him inside her throat. The feel of the saliva and her mouth sliding over him was more than he could bear.

But it was not enough. He wanted to side himself deep into her and bathed her with his seed. Only he was incapable of speech. Or rational thinking. In fact, he could not think at all. He felt as if he was going mad.

The blood was roaring inside his ears, and his body was taking on a life of its own. Sensations washed over him, drowning him in its depth, until he felt himself going under, the desire swamping him and pulling him beneath the exquisite waves of emotions he could not find words to describe.

He was on the verge of bursting when she stopped and climbed on top of him. The exquisite sensation of being sheathed by her tightness, the feel of his penis soaked by her saliva and sliding into her, was so incredible that for a second, he could not move, could not breathe.

"Let me touch you," he ordered thickly. "Please."

"Not yet." His tormentor told him huskily. "Soon." Leaning forward, she cupped a breast and held it to his starving lips. A gasp escaped her as he seized the nipple and suckled hungrily.

Sharp jolts of white-hot fire started shooting through her body, forcing her to move, and when she did, the climax was immediate. Her body trembled violently as he drove into her relentlessly, fueling the fire that was burning a path inside her.

Crying out his name, Camelia dug her fingers into his hair as she fought to come back from the tempestuous storm that seemed to be overwhelming her.

Letting go of the nipple, Hayes tugged at the restraint. "Release me." His voice was harsh and strained, his face taut with passion. "Now."

Reaching over, she fumbled to untie the silk. It took several attempts before she could do so, and when she did, his arms came around her, racing up and down her back as he thrust into her weakened body. Lowering her head, she took his lips, the tears running down her cheeks, emotions swamping her.

It was not long before he was pouring his seed inside her, his body jerking. She collapsed on top of him, her heart racing, her body weak and an emotional wreck.

Cradling her against him, Hayes fought to get his breath back, his own mind in turmoil. They had reached a new level of passion, and he could not help but wonder if there were still more. If that was the case, he was not certain his heart could stand it.

Shifting, he eased her off him so that she was lying next to him. Turbulent green eyes examined her face, and he felt the quiver of his heart as he took in the swollen lips and the slumberous eyes of the woman he adored.

Lifting a hand, he stroked one smooth cheek, a half smile touching his lips. "Was that to teach me a lesson?"

"If that was so, then I believe I have taught myself one too," she told him with a weak smile. "It was a lot."

"Yes, it was." He continued stroking her cheek. "You said you wanted me to forget about the others."

"I was jealous. Am jealous."

"But you already know that there is no need for that." He tilted her chin up, his expression grave. "I love you completely."

"And I know that. I just hate the years that passed between us. I find myself wishing I had stayed after the funeral," he murmured.

"It would not have changed anything."

His eyes flared at that. "I would have been able to stop you, or if not, I would have followed you."

"That would have been a bad idea," she pointed out with a smile.

"I would have been with you, Cammy," he continued soberly. "You went through a terrible trauma, and I should have been the one to hold you and comfort you. I was deprived of that. I was also deprived of being there when you lost our baby, and I am angry, I am sorry; I know it's in the past, but I wanted to grieve with you."

"Can we do it now?"

Staring at her for a few seconds, he nodded and wrapped his arms around her.

*****

Cammy stood in front of the mirror, staring at herself critically. The outfit was new and had been ordered from Romano's, which meant it was also horribly expensive.

But she was going to a public event where most of the people from the society she belonged to were going to be there. She had to look her best. She would not be with Hayes, but still...

Passing a hand over the shimmering emerald green wool, she wondered if it was too much or too little. The material molded to her generous curves as if it had been painted on, and the dip in front revealed the swell of flesh.

She was wearing a flesh-colored bra, the delicate lace molding her skin. She had gone to the salon to deep condition and treat her hair, and the thick dark brown strands tumbled around her face and down her back in lush waves.

Her makeup was minimal. She had always thanked the good Lord for her flawless complexion, which hardly needed any artifice. Her lips glowed from the shimmering nude lipstick she was wearing.

Diamonds dangled at her lobes and were a gift from Hayes just recently. She was also wearing the gold necklace he had given her when she turned seventeen. In the past, she had refused to take expensive gifts from him, not wanting to appear that she was after his money.

But she kept the necklace. Before now, she could not bear to wear it, but now she could. There was a drawer filled with things from their past, one that she had locked away. Now, she could safely take the stuff out and reminisce.

Taking a deep breath, she went into her closet to grab her jacket.

*****

He looked up at the discreet knock and watched in the mirror as his mother came into his bedroom.

"You look so handsome," she murmured, stopping hesitantly in the middle of the very masculine tan and gold room. "Need any help with that?" She gestured to the bow tie he was dealing with.

"No. Thanks. You look lovely," he said briefly admiring the ice blue gown she was wearing.

"It's new." She felt ill at ease for the first time when talking to him and hated it. He had been spending nights away from the manor and sometimes not returning until in the evening when he would shower and change and head back out.

Moving over to the comfortable leather chair in front of the fire, she perched a hip and searched through her mind for what to say. "I suppose an apology is not enough."

Putting the finishing touches to the tie, he turned to go and selected a long black cashmere jacket from the revolving rack.

"It's a start." He, too, was uncomfortable with the rift between them. And he could afford to be generous and forgiving. He was with Camelia, to a point, because she still insisted on having her way, but it was better than not being with her at all. Shrugging into the jacket, he leveled a glance at her.

"What you did cost me, but we are going to have to look past that. You don't like Camelia, but you are going to have to accept her if you want things to be okay between us." Walking over to the dresser, he selected a watch and put it on. Lifting his head, he met her eyes in the mirror.

"I am in love with her and there is never going to be anyone else for me as long as I live. She has my heart and everything else." He smiled at that. "You accused me of being obsessed with her and that might be the case, but it's a condition I embrace happily."

"I am just afraid she is going to hurt you again." She clasped her hands in front of her. "I was here, Hayes; I saw what her leaving did to you. I am a mother who had to sit helplessly while her son suffered. I knew about the drinking, the women, the fact that you could sleep. You almost gave up–"

"And worse than that happened to her." Turning from the dresser, he came to sit next to her, his expression sober. "She suffered a tremendous loss. We were at the movies, having the time of our lives when with one phone call, her life was turned upside down. In one night, she lost everything.

On top of that, we just discovered she was pregnant, something we always swore would never happen." He closed his eyes briefly. "I was so damned cocky, so careless. I always used protection because she insisted on it." Opening his eyes, he stared over her left shoulder.

"It was her birthday, and I wanted to take her out to celebrate, but she wasn't feeling well, so we decided to stay home–" He huffed out a breath. "I have a problem keeping my hands off her, and I–" Rising, he went to look in the mirror bleakly.

"I forced the issue, even though she was not well, and I didn't have protection. I was the one who did it, Mother."

He turned to face her, a tortured look on his handsome face. "I did that to her, and she had to go through everything alone. Anything she wants, anything she asks of me, no matter how unreasonable it sounds, I will grant her wish. I owe her, and I love her. It's that simple."

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