The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(75)

She nodded in agreement because she couldn’t speak. Her gaze dropped to his mouth once more. He moved slowly, as if not to spook her, and cupped her neck before pulling her into a slow, deep kiss.

Tender but firm, his mouth slowly caressed hers . . . the familiar slide of tongues, yet somehow new and amazing and dizzying. He tasted like wine and pepperoni—the scent of his cologne lingered on his skin. Her body thrummed with anticipation, warming everything as she reached for this new chance to hold a piece of his heart. This time she’d be more careful with it . . . and him.

She laid her hands on his chest, her fingers grabbing his collar before sliding up and threading their way through his thick head of hair. Breathless with happiness, she held him close as he moved his mouth along her jaw to the tender spot behind her ear, yet deep inside, uneasiness threatened.

She tried to ignore it—nerves, doubts, whatever it was—determined to recapture some romance with the man she’d thought she’d lost forever.

“Ryan,” she murmured.

As soon as she uttered his name, he moaned, and his tenderness transformed into something hot and urgent. He tumbled her onto her back, the full weight of him pressing against her, and dragged his mouth up her neck. He moved his hands quickly, assuredly, tugging at her shirt—and she froze.

She couldn’t catch a breath. Spots danced before her eyes.

Gun.

Darkness. Filth.

Smoke, sweat, grunting.

Pain.

Live.

Breathe.

Live!

She became conscious that she was batting at and kicking Ryan while yelling, “No!”

He jerked back, hands in the air like a criminal, eyes filled with confusion and pain. “Sorry! I’m sorry.”

Her chest heaved as she fought for air, and fought to piece together what had happened. Her memory failed her, as usual. No distinct thought to cling to. Only nausea and a vague sense of menace lingered, pushing in against her chest.

They’d been kissing. His hair had felt like tufts of silky thread in her fingers. She’d been happy . . . and then she’d disappeared.

Ryan sat on the far edge of the sofa, rubbing his hands on his thighs again, this time with some agitation. He kept his gaze on the ground, brows pinched.

“Did I hurt you?” The tears she wouldn’t shed clogged her throat, making it sore.

“No.”

He glanced at her, his features contorted as he seemed to be trying to understand her inexplicable behavior. “I thought, I thought you were with me . . . thought you wanted—”

“I did. I do . . .” She reached for his hand, but he stiffened.

“Then explain what happened, because I’m lost. You’re giving me some pretty mixed signals, Steffi.” His voice sounded distant and doubting, like he’d awakened from his own lusty haze and remembered the past. Remembered that he could not trust her.

“I can’t explain it. I was with you . . . and then the next thing I know, I wasn’t.” Tears stung her eyes. This was the second time she’d hit him in mere weeks. Her confusion matched his, because she couldn’t think of a single reason why she’d sabotaged this perfect moment between them.

“You know I’d never hurt you. I’d never take advantage of you.” He stood and paced in a tight circle.

“I know.” She sniffled and pushed her hair behind her ears.

“Then why did you push me away again?” He raised his hands from his sides with a frustrated shrug. “Seems you’re not certain of me, or us.”

“I am certain.” She hugged a throw pillow to her stomach, hoping to quell the nausea. “Ever since you returned to town, I’ve been hoping for this chance with you.”

“I want to believe that.” He stood still, arms crossed. “But I can’t help my doubts, given our past, and your behavior . . .”

She reached for him. “Please sit.”

He took her hand and squeezed it, but remained standing. “It’s pretty obvious I crossed a line . . . or something else is off. Either way, the best thing I can do for both our sakes is to give you some space tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Ryan, wait . . . don’t go. Not like this.” She followed him to where he’d laid his jacket. “I want you to stay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please believe me. We can just watch TV and keep talking, but don’t go.”

He kissed her forehead. Her forehead. “I loved tonight, and really appreciate everything we got out in the open. If it was just about the two of us, maybe I’d be less cautious, but there’s Emmy. Everything that affects me also affects her one way or another. If this is anything less than ‘right,’ then I need to be more cautious. It’s been ten years. We don’t need to rush anything now, do we?” He swiped the tear that rolled down her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t cry. Let’s just hit pause on this date and talk tomorrow, okay?”

Ten minutes later, Ryan sat in his car and stared at his parents’ house. He squeezed the steering wheel to keep his hands from trembling at the horrible theory that had begun to take root on his drive home. Had her attack last spring been more than a mugging? Had it involved sexual assault? It would explain her jumpy behavior by the lake that night when he’d come at her from behind, and tonight, when she freaked out as soon as he became sexually assertive.