Billie Green In Annie's Eyes (pdf)

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physical needs. Or . .
"Or?" she prompted, her voice husky.
He turned his hand to curve it around her neck and began to slowly draw her
toward him. "Or you're a time bomb waiting to explode."
"Tick . . . tick . . . tick," she whispered.
He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, ragged breath. "Ahh, love," he
murmured, "now comes the part that scares me more than a little. I've
wanted you since the day I saw you in San Antonio, but there was always a
darker side to the wanting. I managed to hold back because I was working
on a hidden agenda. The agenda's gone now. And if I let go, now that there's
nothing between us except "
"Your clothes," she whispered. "My clothes . . . and a lot of foolish talk. Are
you afraid youH scare me with a display of unbridled passion?" Her eyelids
drifted down, and she watched him react to her words. "Unbridle it, Max.
Turn it loose. Don't hold anything "
The last word was cut off by his mouth. The taste of him, the feel of him, had
filled Anne's dreams, waking and sleeping, for most of her adult life, and his
kiss triggered the explosion he predicted. Terrified that he would find
another reason to pull away from her, she brought her hands up to clasp his
head and hungrily sought his tongue with her own as she thrust her body
close against his.
She felt the shock of her response rock through him. He groaned, a sound
that came from deep in his chest, and struggled to his feet with her in his
arms.
He carried her into the bedroom and set her on her feet beside the bed. Only
moments later the moonlight streaming through the curtains illuminated
their naked bodies.
When he lowered her to the bed, it seemed natural and right, as though they
had never been apart. There was no sign of hesitancy in either of them now.
They were where Fate had intended them to be, in each other's arms.
There was no past, no future. No haunting echoes of pain. There was only
this moment. And nothing mattered except the overpowering need to get
closer, the need to reclaim the agonizingly beautiful sensations that time and
circumstance had stolen from them.
Yes, here is the birthmark on the soft, inner part of her thigh. It still looks
like a butterfly. It still tastes like Maine in spring.
Here's the scar on his back. The one he got when he Jell off the house. The
one that felt so good when I ran my fingers or tongue across.
And even now, even after eleven years and a world of pain had gone by, he
still whispered the same love words in her ear as he lifted her buttocks and
slowly filled her.
It was old. It was new. It always had been and always would be. Because
when they came together, there was finally honesty. Total honesty. As they
moved together, the moonlight raking gentle fingers of light across naked
flesh, they touched the most solid truth either had ever known. It gathered
strength and rocked through them like a distant earthquake. Then the
earthquake was there in the room with them, and Annie was finally home.
With his head on the pillow next to hers. Max watched Annie as she slept.
He didn't touch her. He simply watched her sleep. He wanted to etch her
features more deeply into his memory so that even when he closed his eyes,
he would be able to picture each one clearly.
The sun had been up for over an hour, and for even longer he had been
watching her. The loss of the small things, like watching her sleep, had cut
Max most deeply in their years apart. The anger and pain of her desertion
would take over his thoughts at night, but he'd expected that. He had even
welcomed it. But the small things would come upon him unexpectedly,
touching even the most ordinary parts of his life.
But that was over, he told himself. He didn't have to worry about
unexpectedly missing her now. Because now she was here beside him.
Today was the day Anne was due to fly to Atlanta with Cliff. Max wasn't
jealous anymore. Not after what they had shared last night. He lay beside her
in bed, wanting to watch her sleeping face but needing to kiss her even
more.
Softly he touched his lips to her forehead, her eyelids, and her cheek. But the
time he reached her mouth, she was awake and waiting for him.
"What a wonderful way to wake up," she murmured against his lips.
Opening her eyes, she reached up to touch his face and smiled. A look in her
smoky-gray eyes nudged at something deep inside him. Something he
thought was dead and buried years ago. Hope.
The feeling began as a small thing, an inconceivable idea struggling weakly
to be conceived, then before he could catch his breath, it was growing and
swelling, overwhelming, taking over his whole heart and mind. And that
scared the hell out of him.
Max had been prepared to spend the rest of his life alone. It wouldn't have
been any difficult task, because there were no requirements for being a
loser. He wouldn't even have to work at it. He could just sit back and let it
happen. And it would have been a nice, smooth ride. No ups and downs for
a loser. Only downs. No demands, no high standards. A loser expected
nothing, and that was just exactly what he got. Nothing.
For one cowardly moment, as he looked into her eyes, he wasn't sure he was
ready for the struggles that went with being a winner. Because to Max, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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