And yet, I kept moving with him as he unlocked the door. He kissed me again when we entered the room, swollen lips on the side of my face, near my ear, murmuring words I couldn’t understand as I ran my hands over the expanse of his back and shoulders. My lips slightly parted as I tried to catch my breath.
Without thought or volition my hands were under his jacket, yanking his black t-shirt out of his waistband and sliding up his back, my fingertips digging into his skin. Toned muscles that I’d seen move with the notes from his cello were now flexing beneath my touch.
“Gregory …” My voice was a husky whisper as I lifted his shirt.
He took a step backward and shook off his jacket. When he looked up I saw everything had changed. There was no orchestra, no tour. No classroom. No Karin.
Karin.
His wife.
The harder I tried to picture her, the fuzzier her face became in my mind. Now was the time to stop if I was going to. To slide the shoe back on that I’d just kicked off and leave the room with as much dignity as I could.
As if he sensed my hesitation, Gregory took a step forward. I placed my hands on his shoulders and we both took a deep breath. As we exhaled in unison, his hands slid down my sides and over my hips. My eyes closed as I recalled Madeline’s guest room five years ago. Dawn threatening as we had recklessly torn off our clothes and gave in. The way his muscles flexed underneath me as he held my hips. The way his arms had encircled me as he cried out my name. Watching his eyes as he told me he loved me. That’s where I ended my trip down memory lane, choosing to push aside everything that happened in the moments that had followed.
“God, Savannah,” Gregory sighed as his hands slid down my backside. Now he was looking at me the same way. With the reverence I was certain he only held for his cello.
“I ... we ...”
I started to say it. I did. I started to say I can’t do this, or maybe, we shouldn’t do this. Or maybe what I started to say was I love you or we belong together. I don’t know which. The emotion washing over me was too powerful, too confusing to reduce to a few simple words. The moment for reason passed as his lips touched mine again, as our bodies touched, as his hands ran down my back and he pulled me toward the bed.
Gregory
From the moment she slapped me, the moment I kissed her, I knew I was lost.
I stumbled through my apology because I’d been wrong to say what I said. I’d been wrong to blame her. I’d been the one to ruin my life. And I hardly thought as I grabbed her and pulled her into my arms, as I kissed her, but I felt. I felt so much, so much that I’d lost since the day I let her walk away.
And as I pulled her to the bed, even then, I was split, confused, my mind and emotions everywhere. It was as if I had a voice in my head, telling me this was wrong. But on a much bigger level it was so right, because I felt a passion for her that I’d never felt before in my life.
Not since the last time I'd had her in bed.
I closed my eyes as she dug her fingers into my back. It wasn’t the physical sensations. It’s that it was her. It was Savannah, the woman I loved, the woman I’d always loved, the woman I lost. And then it was too late for thought. I pulled her to the bed, laying her on her back, and she was pulling at my shirt, lifting it off of me, as my eyes and fingertips touched the delicate white skin below her breasts and our lips touched again.
My fingertips slid along the base of her breasts, just a feather touch, but neither of us could withstand the anticipation. She reached out and pulled me closer, so we were holding each other tightly, both of my arms wrapped around her as we lay on our sides, my right hand cradling the back of her neck, our lips together.
We were scrambling to make up for lost time.
Her eyes fluttered open, and I broke off our kiss for a few seconds and stared into them. Brown, beautiful. I’d always loved her eyes. They watered, just a little, and she whispered, “I’ve never wanted anyone else.”
My whole body shook at the words, because I hadn’t either. I brought my lips back to hers, and our mouths opened, tongues exploring. I was overwhelmed by the sensation of her body touching mine. Her breasts were warm and swollen against my bare chest, and as my left hand slid down to the curve of her back, she pressed her entire body hard against mine. My breath was ragged, and I was utterly overwhelmed by the emotion, the sensation, of having Savannah Marshall in bed again after all these years.
She let out a small groan as my hand slid down to cup her ass, and I pulled her tighter, the pressure of our bodies together almost too intense to bear. I wanted her clothes off right then and there. We had a crazy, confusing, frustrating moment where our bodies were too close to each other to manage getting clothes off, and I literally had to tear myself away from her to get up on my knees. I kissed her as I felt at her back, trying to find the zipper for her dress.
“Under my arm,” she spoke through clenched teeth, lifting her arm to expose the zipper.
I unzipped her dress, loosening it enough to slide the entire dress up and over her head, and then I found myself sitting back on my heels, staring at her, my heart beating even faster. Her skin looked almost porcelain. Incredibly smooth, flawless. Like her.
In that moment she stared up at me. Vulnerable, but strong. Here was someone who understood who I was on so many levels. Who I’d loved since I first laid eyes on her.
Here was the woman I’d hurt, badly. The woman I’d promised to walk away from, because of worry about my career. And her reputation. The woman who I lost, because I didn’t fight for her. And even though she was right here in front of me, it didn’t feel entirely real; everything had the texture of a dream.
But it wasn’t a dream.
She reached for my belt, her hand pressing against me, and I groaned, closing my eyes for just a second. I eased out of my pants, and our bodies were back side-by-side again, and now I felt her skin against mine. I hooked a leg around hers, tangling our limbs, and slid my right arm underneath her shoulder.