Unforgettable: Always 2 Read Online Free Page B

Her hair was longer than it had been in Sydney. It hung over her shoulders and past her breasts in loose, messy waves. She wore makeup, which threw me a little: Amanda had never worn makeup in Australia. Her eyes – still unreadable – were made all the more intense by the dark eye shadow and eyeliner rimming them.
    And yet, even makeup couldn’t hide the dark smudges under her eyes. She really looked tired. And haunted. As if something horrible had happened in her –
    Before the thought could finish forming, Amanda closed the distance between us, took my face in her hands and kissed me.
    This is the point in my story where everyone’s meant to go awwww , I’m sure. Two young lovers with startling natural chemistry (to quote The Sure Thing , one of my mum’s favorite movies) finally reconnect in a busy airport. This is also the part of my story where I forget Amanda ended us without a reason that made any sense, and lose myself in the exquisite beauty and passion of her lips, right?
    For one brief moment, that’s exactly what happened. I gave myself over to the kiss, to the feel of her lips against mine. Every fiber of my body remembered what kissing Amanda Sinclair was like. Remembered and reveled. I’ve kissed other women in the interim – Maci Rowling for one – but none of those kisses reached to the very core of my existence like Amanda’s kisses had. Like this kiss did. This one simple kiss.
    It was beautiful.
    And then I pulled away, removing her hands from my face. “Why am I here, Amanda?”
    That haunted shadow filled Amanda’s eyes again, replacing an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “Because I asked you to come?”
    I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, there’s that.”
    She smiled, a weak laugh falling from her. “I’ve missed you, Bren,” she whispered, before sliding her arms around my body and pressing her cheek to my chest.
    We stood in the busy terminal, with people hurrying and dodging past us, Amanda’s cheek against my chest just above my solar plexus, her belly and thighs warm against mine. I don’t know what was in her head, and I didn’t care. What was in my head was the simple belief that life had brought us together again. Life, the universe maybe, had recognized it had fucked up and brought us back together. I’d deal with whatever the reason was for Amanda calling me here, fix it, and we could get on with our lives together. Simple. I am Brendon Osmond, after all. Nothing rattles me, not really, and nothing can get me down. The eternal optimist, remember?
    It was Amanda who broke the embrace this time. She stepped way from me, her fingers trailing down my sides as she put distance between us. Her eyes, haunted and somehow secretive, met mine.
    “I was going to do this a different way, Bren,” she said. I couldn’t miss the choked tension in her voice. “I was going to …”
    She stopped and looked away, grief eating up her face. Grief, and something close to contempt.
    My gut knotted. My pulse thumped hard in my ears. “Going to what?” I asked. Why the hell was I feeling like all the air in the terminal had suddenly turned to steel wool?
    Amanda turned back to me, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. A part of me – the purely male part – reminded me how incredible that lip felt between my own teeth. That purely male memory sent a tight finger of heat into the pit of my stomach and for a dangerous moment I didn’t want to hear what Amanda had planned to do differently. For a dangerous moment, that purely male part of me wanted to take control of the situation. Wanted to haul Amanda back into my arms and kiss her until her knees crumpled and all she could do was cling to me as I rendered her defenseless against the pleasure of our—
    “You were going to what?” I asked again, killing the caveman inside me. I smiled, letting her see it was all good. That I was okay, that we were okay. That we were gravy.
    She looked at me, and then let out a slow sigh and said,