Free Forgotten Lullaby by Rita Herron Page B

curved underneath her breast. His tongue probed her mouth, urging her to open it, and Emma did, almost succumbing to the pleasure, but then a sharp pain shot through her chest and she winced. Her sore ribs served as a definite reminder that she’d been in an accident—and that Grant was a stranger.
    Grant plundered her mouth for several seconds before he realized she’d stopped responding. He stilled, then raised his face to search her eyes. “I’m sorry, I got carried away.”
    â€œNo, I’m sorry,” Emma said, hating the uncertainty in her voice. “But it’s…” She struggled for words. “I can’t do this. I…barely know you.”
    Grant automatically dropped his hands, the desire on his face fading into disappointment. “I forgot. I’m a stranger to you.” Emma drew back, her lips trembling. “But I know you, Emma. I know you and I miss you. And this is damn hard,” he finished in a strangled whisper.
    He pushed himself up from the sofa and stood, putting some distance between them. Emma clenched her hands by her sides, trying to steady her breathing. When Grant faced her, he squared his shoulders, his expression unreadable. “Do you want me to help you to bed now?”
    Emma shook her head, avoiding his hard perusal. “No, I can manage. If you’ll hand me those crutches, I’ll check on Carly and go to bed.”
    â€œYou’re my wife, Emma. I’m going to help you.” Grant grabbed the crutches, curved his arm around her waist and lifted her to her feet. Emma clung awkwardly to him for support, her insides quivering again as she felt his heart beating beneath her hand. His chest was warm and solid, his shoulders broad, his arms strong. But his face looked utterly tormented.
    â€œI won’t touch you again,” Grant said, his calm voice belying the turmoil in his expression. “Not until you ask me.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Emma whispered, her heart in her throat. “I’m so sorry.” Then she turned and hobbled off to bed.
    Â 
    G RANT GRIPPED THE SOFA edge and closed his eyes. He’d acted like a jerk. What had come over him? He’d kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough. He’d hoped that she’d feel the passion they’d once shared, that she’d remember him. But she hadn’t.
    That damn video. He’d been shocked to see Kate showing it to Emma. Was Kate actually trying to help Emma remember him?
    After seeing the sentimental reminder of their wedding, he’d inhaled the sweetness of Emma’s flower-scented shampoo, and it had reminded him of their honeymoon night. Carnations always reminded him of Emma. She liked roses, but she said carnations wereheartier, they lasted longer, just as she wanted their marriage to last a long time.
    He’d thought it would last forever. Now he wasn’t sure.
    When he’d seen her wearing that silky blue robe with her golden hair curled around her shoulders, still damp, her eyes glued to the video of their wedding ceremony, her fingers touching her wedding ring, desperation and desire had overwhelmed him. After almost losing her, he needed to hold her, needed to feel her come alive in his arms, needed to reassure himself he hadn’t lost her. He’d wanted her as badly as he had the first time they’d made love. Maybe more. But she didn’t want him.
    A sickening pain churned through him—disgust at his own impatience, disappointment for what he’d lost, fear that he’d never have her again. First the accident, then amnesia, now problems with his job. Last week he’d been on the top of the world. He’d thought he had everything. A beautiful wife, a darling daughter, a pathway to partnership. Now his whole life was falling apart. No matter what he did, his dreams were crumbling right in his hands. He’d promised to provide for Emma and Carly, to give them the best.