REMEMBER US: A Billionaire Romance (Part Two) by Glenna Sinclair Page B
Authors: Glenna Sinclair
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pushed me over the edge. I buried myself inside of her and let loose, the pleasure and the pain of it taking the steel out of my knees.
And then she was laughing. Laughing! And peppering my face with kisses, pure joy flashing from her eyes.
“That was…”
I laughed, too.
“I know.”
Chapter 9
Harley
He carried me upstairs, and we undressed each other, taking our time this time. The way he looked at me, like he was unwrapping a gift he’d waited all his life to receive, made me feel like a queen, like the most adored starlet that ever existed. I’d never enjoyed being the center of attention, never played the role of a drama queen. But I loved this, loved the way it felt to be the center of his world.
I loved him. There was no doubt in my mind.
We moved together on the bed, our bodies fit together like they were made for one another. When he was inside of me this time, the pleasure was muted, but still just as exciting. I could have lain there all night, my hands moving over his warm skin, my body aware of every movement of his, his aware of every movement of mine. I touched his face and tilted his head so I could see the hooded look of his eyes; I could see my own thoughts mirrored there.
“I love you, Harley,” he whispered. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you.”
I wished I could say the same. I couldn’t remember our first meeting, but something inside of me screamed that it was the same, that I knew the first time he looked at me this way that he was the only man I would ever love again.
“I love you,” I said.
The joy that jumped into his eyes in that moment, the passion in the kiss he offered me, told me everything was going to be okay. Whatever happened in the past no longer mattered. He was my future—and that was all.
It was a long time before sleep came. When our bodies were exhausted, we lay together, talking about everything and nothing all at once. We watched the sun come up through the French doors to the balcony, curled up together there in the bed. I sensed we’d done this before, and it was a comforting idea. Normalcy. It seemed like nothing had been normal these last months. But this was.
When I did fall asleep, it was a deep, contented sleep. And, for a while, it was good. But then the dreams began.
It was a jumble at first. Different locations, different people all mixed up into a mish mosh of details. There was emotion, a lot of emotion. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. Love. Always underneath it all was love, and that seemed to make it all so much worse. And the pain. It was so much more than the physical pain of my accident.
And then there were clear images. Moments that I instinctively knew were memories.
Standing in the middle of a gallery, dressed in shorts, my hair a mess. Xander watching me from his position against the wall. He was dressed in a suit and tie, but he didn’t seem to be feeling the heat. I was annoyed that he didn’t offer to help, but when he did offer, I wanted him to disappear. I didn’t need help from someone like him. I didn’t know who I thought he was, but I instinctively knew he was trouble.
A few days later, I walked out of the gallery and found him loitering around my car, trying to look casual, but clearly waiting for me. At first, I was annoyed. But then I thought it was kind of cute, how uncomfortable he looked in his uncertainty. Not enough to accept his offer of coffee, but cute just the same.
And then he kept showing up, once with a bouquet of roses. I told him I hated flowers, so he came the next day with chocolates. I accused him of trying to blow my diet, so then he brought a gold keychain with my initials in it because he’d seen that my keychain was broken.
So considerate. How could I say no then?
And then the first date. He showed up when I lost track of time and caught me still in my studio. I took a quick shower, all too aware of him waiting, alone, downstairs in my tiny house. Wondering what he thought of my
And then she was laughing. Laughing! And peppering my face with kisses, pure joy flashing from her eyes.
“That was…”
I laughed, too.
“I know.”
Chapter 9
Harley
He carried me upstairs, and we undressed each other, taking our time this time. The way he looked at me, like he was unwrapping a gift he’d waited all his life to receive, made me feel like a queen, like the most adored starlet that ever existed. I’d never enjoyed being the center of attention, never played the role of a drama queen. But I loved this, loved the way it felt to be the center of his world.
I loved him. There was no doubt in my mind.
We moved together on the bed, our bodies fit together like they were made for one another. When he was inside of me this time, the pleasure was muted, but still just as exciting. I could have lain there all night, my hands moving over his warm skin, my body aware of every movement of his, his aware of every movement of mine. I touched his face and tilted his head so I could see the hooded look of his eyes; I could see my own thoughts mirrored there.
“I love you, Harley,” he whispered. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you.”
I wished I could say the same. I couldn’t remember our first meeting, but something inside of me screamed that it was the same, that I knew the first time he looked at me this way that he was the only man I would ever love again.
“I love you,” I said.
The joy that jumped into his eyes in that moment, the passion in the kiss he offered me, told me everything was going to be okay. Whatever happened in the past no longer mattered. He was my future—and that was all.
It was a long time before sleep came. When our bodies were exhausted, we lay together, talking about everything and nothing all at once. We watched the sun come up through the French doors to the balcony, curled up together there in the bed. I sensed we’d done this before, and it was a comforting idea. Normalcy. It seemed like nothing had been normal these last months. But this was.
When I did fall asleep, it was a deep, contented sleep. And, for a while, it was good. But then the dreams began.
It was a jumble at first. Different locations, different people all mixed up into a mish mosh of details. There was emotion, a lot of emotion. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. Love. Always underneath it all was love, and that seemed to make it all so much worse. And the pain. It was so much more than the physical pain of my accident.
And then there were clear images. Moments that I instinctively knew were memories.
Standing in the middle of a gallery, dressed in shorts, my hair a mess. Xander watching me from his position against the wall. He was dressed in a suit and tie, but he didn’t seem to be feeling the heat. I was annoyed that he didn’t offer to help, but when he did offer, I wanted him to disappear. I didn’t need help from someone like him. I didn’t know who I thought he was, but I instinctively knew he was trouble.
A few days later, I walked out of the gallery and found him loitering around my car, trying to look casual, but clearly waiting for me. At first, I was annoyed. But then I thought it was kind of cute, how uncomfortable he looked in his uncertainty. Not enough to accept his offer of coffee, but cute just the same.
And then he kept showing up, once with a bouquet of roses. I told him I hated flowers, so he came the next day with chocolates. I accused him of trying to blow my diet, so then he brought a gold keychain with my initials in it because he’d seen that my keychain was broken.
So considerate. How could I say no then?
And then the first date. He showed up when I lost track of time and caught me still in my studio. I took a quick shower, all too aware of him waiting, alone, downstairs in my tiny house. Wondering what he thought of my
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