unique taste on her lips, his tongue intruding into her mouth with tantalizing stabs, and his hands roaming the hills and hollows of her naked body. She craved everything about him—his sturdiness, his heat, the tender strength she knew she would find in his arms, and the promised pleasure of his sex buried deep within her body.
Shaken by the images flooding her mind and stimulating her senses, Leah closed her eyes. She gripped her hairbrush until her fingers ached. When her breathing finally slowed to a normal cadence, she wondered if she’d ever felt so aroused by the mere thought of a man.
Several moments passed before she regained her composure. Leah glanced in the mirror, inspecting her reflection as she set aside the hairbrush. Despite having grown familiar with the image that stared back at her, she still felt like she was looking into the face of a stranger.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned away from the sink and left the bathroom, once again clad in jeans, a cropped cotton top, and deck shoes. She crossed the bedroom, paused to draw open the drapes, and then collected from the bedside table one of the photographs she’d studied on and off for the preceding thirty–six hours. Something deep inside her soul ached with response every time she looked at the photo. Now, she intended to discover why.
Leah spotted Brett the instant she walked into the sitting room. Standing in the threshold of the open French doors that led out onto the awning–covered balcony of their suite, he appeared to be enjoying the view of the bay despite the cloud–dotted spring sky.
When he turned to look at her, she saw relief and something she couldn’t quite name in his eyes. Forcing a smile to her lips, she announced, "I’ve decided to quit hibernating. Whatever happens in the days and weeks ahead, I’m ready to deal with it."
He met her in the center of the spacious sitting room. She experienced a moment of guilt for having subjected him to long hours of silent brooding, but she sensed that he understood. She welcomed the power she felt in his large hands and long, blunt–tipped fingers as he gripped her shoulders. Looking up at him, she trembled beneath his touch.
"Welcome back, Leah Holbrook. You finally sound like your old self."
"Old or new, I’m tired of hiding."
"You weren’t hiding. You were just coming to terms with what’s happened to you. In fact, you’ve handled this situation the way you’ve handled tough times in the past. You got off the merry–go–round and gave yourself a chance to clear your head, because you’ve always been smart enough to realize that fear will eat you alive if you don’t confront it head–on."
She laughed at his summary of her supposedly rational behavior. "You’re giving me much more credit than I deserve."
"No way," he disagreed. His fingers curled over her shoulders, his eyes darkening to midnight pools as he looked down at her.
"I know I might never remember my life, but I want to try. I’ll need your help and your memories."
"Anything else?"
She nodded, tears unexpectedly stinging her eyes. "A lot of hugs, a ton of patience, which you obviously have, and the answers to a thousand and one questions."
She went willingly into his arms as he gathered her close, her need to be enveloped in his embrace eclipsing everything else for the moment. Sighing, she savored the power of his large, muscular body molded to hers.
"Are you sure you’re up for this?" she asked several minutes later.
"Stupid question," Brett muttered as he eased his hold on her and brought his hands up to frame her face. "There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. All you have to do is ask, and it’s yours."
She couldn’t speak. The tears stinging her eyes pooled and blurred her vision. She turned away from him and wandered in the direction of the couch. Sinking down onto it, she took a moment to harness her emotions. "Sorry. My feelings are quite close to the surface right now."
"Don’t