Desired.
"Jean-Pierre, it's been so awful staying here. I wanted to come
see you, but I could not bring myself to do it."
"I am here. I brought you something. Now let me in," he
commanded, his voice much louder.
"Yes," she said and unlatched the door.
He stepped inside the room and gripped her shoulders. Night air
and animal and maleness flooded her senses. She gasped all of it
in, then her breath was cut off by his lips. He kissed her, hard,
and snapped his head away. "Matthew. When?"
"He won't be back until tomorrow."
"Good."
"Yes." She looked past his shoulder, outside the doors, and began
to cry softly.
He frowned and pulled her down beside him on the bed. "Greta,
what is it?" He wiped her cheeks with his thumbs.
"I've been so upset and confused by everything. This is so hard
for me." She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead against his
shoulder. Her mind flashed with images of the first time he had
kissed her, in the horse stall.
"You mustn't cry." He kissed her again. His hands touched just
inside her soft robe. Lightly, down to her belly. Gooseflesh
prickled her forearms, spread to her stomach, her loins. Her
nipples felt pinched and hard, needed pinching.
"Wait," she said, squeezing his strong forearms. "I've been in
bed for two days. I really must take a shower."
"Mmm," he hummed.
Pages:
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285