Page 74 of Tempting Devil

“Are you sure about this, Imogene?” he asked once he set me on my feet in front of the bed. “This won’t change my plans.”

“I don’t care about that right now.” I pressed my hand to his cheek, and he closed his eyes, melting into my touch. “All I care about is you.” I lifted myself onto my toes, brushing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Feeling you.” Reaching for the bottom of my t-shirt, I lifted it over my head. “Loving you.”

Groaning, he yanked me against him, not even a whisper separating us. Then he crashed his mouth against mine, his tongue tangling with mine as he led me the few feet toward the bed, gently laying me on top of the soft mattress and crawling between my legs.

His hips rocked slow, sensual circles against me as he explored my body with his hands, lowering his mouth toward my exposed breast. My heart raced with anticipation, and I braced to feel his lips on me, his teeth on my nipple. Something.

But I never did. Instead, I noticed his attention focus on something other than my breast.

My tattoo.

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his fingers traced the familiar pattern, like he once did nearly every day before I’d branded my skin with a permanent reminder of our love.

Dipping his head toward it, he kissed the symbol, his touch so soft and gentle it made me cry.

“Samuel.”

His name hung heavy in the room as he slowly lifted his eyes to mine. It took me several seconds to realize my slip of the tongue.

Once I did, I rushed out, “I’m sorry. Gideon, I?—”

He covered my mouth, cutting off my apology with a deep, yet brief kiss.

“Say it again,” he pleaded, his lips hovering over mine.

“What?”

“My name. Please, Imogene. Let me hear you say my name again. My real name.”

The raw need in his voice nearly broke me. I’d do anything to wash away his memories. To remind him of who he was. This man was Samuel Tate, regardless of what he believed. I felt it since the beginning. I still felt it now. Those bastards may have tried to take his life. But they didn’t take his soul. It was still here. And I’d do everything in my power to bring it back.

“Samuel,” I murmured, his name on my lips like a determined prayer. A hopeful benediction. An unwavering promise.

He wrapped his arms around my torso, clinging to me as if I were a life preserver and he was being tossed around a tumultuous ocean.

“Again.”

I cradled his face in my hands, forcing his eyes to mine. “Samuel.”

“Again.”

I inched my mouth toward his. “Your name is Samuel Tate. You were, and still are, the love of my fucking life.”

He released a shivering breath, a single tear falling down his cheek as he basked in my words. Then he claimed my mouth, pouring every single emotion he’d experienced over the past five years into the kiss. Fear. Betrayal. Despair. Desolation. Rage. But mixed within all of that was love.

I’d like to think it was this love that helped him survive.

That brought him back to me.

He ran a hand along the contours of my frame, his fingers tracing the delicate tattoo as if no time had passed since the last time he’d done this precise thing. But he didn’t linger for too long, straightening as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts, a single brow arched in question.

But there was no question in my mind. I wanted this. Needed this. Needed to feel him again.

“Please, Samuel. Make love to me.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Gideon