Remember Me by Sharon Sala

the other.
    â€œWho was that?”
    â€œMom. She was offering to hang out with you for a while until you felt stronger.”
    Frankie frowned. “I love your mother, and I would love for her to visit, but I don’t need a keeper.”
    â€œThat’s debatable.”
    Before Frankie could argue, he took the hairbrush out of her hands and set it back on the bureau.
    â€œCome here,” he said softly as he pulled her close. “I have something to give you.”
    Frankie smiled hesitantly. “And that would be?”
    â€œMom said to give you her love. This is the best that I can do.” His mouth skirted the edges of her lips, then centered.
    Frankie swallowed a groan and wrapped her arms around his neck.
    When he came up for air, Frankie sighed. “Is that the best you can do?” she whispered.
    Clay’s eyes glittered darkly. “Hardly, but it’s all you’re going to get until I think you can handle it.”
    Frankie almost blushed. “ Handle it? Might we be just the least little bit overconfident?”
    Clay moved away from her. “I don’t think so,” he drawled. “ We have been celibate for a hell of a long time.”
    She tightened her hold around his neck. “Then don’t you think it’s about time we corrected that problem?”

Seven
    C lay’s heart skipped a beat. Over the past months, he’d imagined this moment in the nights when he’d been unable to sleep and had come to accept that memories would be all he had left of his wife. But no more. The reality of her return was now. There were no doctors hovering or police in the next room. Only him—and her—and the love that once bound them. Would she forgive him? Could he trust her? He sighed. Finally, none of it mattered.
    He cupped her face with his hands, concerned for her injuries, that this would be too soon.
    â€œAre you sure?”
    Her chin quivered. “Sure that I love you? That I want to make love to you? Oh, Clay, what do you think?”
    He exhaled slowly, then lowered his head. Finally there was nothing to be heard but the shifting of one body to another as she lifted her lips for his kiss. Within seconds, their joining went from sweet to insanity.
    She moaned, yielding to his onslaught as he backed her against the wall. One hungry kiss led to another, then another, until they were both shaking and gasping for air. He tunneled his fingers through her hair. When she winced, too late he remembered her injury and drew back in remorse.
    â€œSorry, so sorry,” he muttered, and started to move away when she caught him, pulling him back, then yielding to the instinctive thrust of his hips.
    â€œCareful, Francesca.”
    â€œI don’t want to be careful. I want to be loved,” she begged.
    He groaned beneath his breath. Refusing her—or himself—was impossible. He took her in his arms again, gently kissing her face, her eyelids, then finally her lips. They were warm and soft and yielded to his demands all too easily. But he wanted more—so much more.
    Frankie’s head was swimming. His passion engulfed her. Shaking, she broke free from his kiss to look up at his face.
    â€œClay…”
    His voice was just above a whisper. “What, baby?”
    â€œTake me to bed.”
    A muscle jerked at the side of his jaw as he picked her up and carried her across the room. When he laid her on the sheets, she pulled him down with her. They rolled, tangling themselves in the covers of the unmade bed.
    Immediately, Clay began to pull at her clothes. His message was urgent and impossible to misunderstand. He wanted her naked, and he wanted her now.
    Frankie gladly obliged, tugging at his shirt and jeans as well, until the only thing between them was passion.
    Clay raised himself onto one elbow, pausing momentarily to look down at his wife. His smile was brittle, his breathing short and shattered. Two years of celibacy had all but