Remember Me by Sharon Sala Page A

destroyed his control.
    â€œFrancesca…sweetheart…I don’t know if I can—”
    Frankie put her fingers against his mouth. “This is for you.”
    His groan ripped the quiet of the room as her body made way for him to come in. He began to move almost instantly, thrusting deep inside her. Thoughts came and went, passing through his mind like near-spent bullets, and tearing through the loneliness that had been his sole companion.
    Been so long…feels so good.
    She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. He groaned again. It was going to be over too fast.
    Suddenly the blood was hammering against his eardrums and his body was on a plane all its own, moving without thought, chasing a feeling that kept trying to catch hold.
    And then it was upon him—pushing, pushing, driving him harder, deeper. He heard a soft cry, then a deep, aching groan. It was himself that he heard—and he was coming undone.
    Â 
    It was five minutes after three in the afternoon when the doorbell rang. Clay exited the kitchen on the run, anxious that it not wake Frankie, who was taking a nap. Their morning had been exhausting for her, but so healing for them both. Making love to her today had been like making love to her again for the very first time.
    When he saw his dad’s car through the window, he frowned, hoping that something hadn’t happened on the work site. Hastily, he combed his hair with his fingers, then opened the door. The wind was sharp, the air brisk.
    â€œHey, Dad, come in out of the cold,” he said quickly, and shut the door behind them as Winston LeGrand slipped inside.
    â€œDamned miserable today,” Winston muttered, shrugging out of his overcoat.
    Clay eyed his father’s mood as he hung the coat on their hall tree. As always, it was impossible to read his emotions.
    â€œHow about a hot cup of coffee?” Clay asked. “I just made a fresh pot.”
    â€œDon’t mind if I do,” Winston said, rubbing his hands together as he followed his son into the kitchen.
    Curious, he looked around as Clay got down a cup. “Where’s Frankie?”
    â€œTaking a nap.”
    Winston nodded, taking the hot cup of coffee and cradling it between his cold palms like a hand warmer.
    â€œShe all right?” he asked.
    Clay leaned against the counter. “She’s getting there,” he said quietly.
    â€œRemembering anything?” Winston asked.
    â€œNot enough to help—yet.”
    Winston nodded and took a slow sip of coffee.
    â€œEverything okay on the site?” Clay asked.
    â€œYeah, sure.”
    â€œI appreciate you stepping in to help me like this,” Clay said.
    Winston nodded again and took another sip of coffee.
    Several long, uneasy moments passed between the men, with Winston busying himself cooling his coffee and Clay watching him blow into the cup.
    â€œSo, what do you think?” Winston finally asked.
    Clay sighed. He knew what his father was getting at. He’d been so angry and distrustful before, it only stood to reason that his parents would be curious about his state of mind.
    â€œI think I acted like a jackass,” Clay muttered. “Thankfully, Francesca seems to have a penchant for men with long ears and a tail.”
    Winston managed a grin. “It was a rough call,” he said.
    Clay nodded. “Maybe so, but the least I could have done was listen to her side first.”
    â€œWell, you have to admit that the needle marks were incriminating as hell. Add to that the fact that she was oblivious to the two passing years, and you have a woman with a lot of explaining to do.”
    â€œI guess,” Clay said. “But it doesn’t make me feel any better to know that the whole time I was grilling her about where she’d been, she was suffering from a serious concussion.” He shuddered. “It’s a damn wonder I didn’t let her lie there and die.”
    â€œBut you