They ate salads, barbecued ribs and corn bread on the porch and then went back to painting. It wasn’t until ten o’clock when they sat back down together on the porch. As usual, she had raspberry tea and he had his cold beer.
“I’m amazed how much you’ve gotten done. I don’t recall you being that fast before.”
“I’m getting better as I age.”
“Maybe we both are,” she said, smiling in the dark.
They sat and talked until midnight and then walked up the stairs together. “Now you sleep tight in your big, cushy new bed while I crawl into my sleeping bag on the floor.”
At the top of the stairs as they started down the hall, he put his arm across her shoulders. She smiled. “I will remind you, you insisted on staying here. I told you there was nowhere for you to sleep.”
“Not quite true now. If you get lonesome, just whisper. I’ll hear you.”
She laughed. “Good night, Tom. You can have my cot.”
“No, thanks. I’ll wait for your invitation.” He switched off the lights and she could hear him rustling around and then all was quiet. She suspected it would be a long time before she would get to sleep.
What would it be like when he went back to the ranch and she was in this big old house all by herself? She knew she was going to miss him badly.
* * *
In the night a clap of thunder rattled the windows and jolted her awake. She could hear the wind whistling around the house outside and felt the cool breeze coming through the open windows. She got out of bed and slipped on flip-flops to go turn off the attic fan.
Brilliant flashes of lightning illuminated the interior of the room, so she could see as went out into the hall. She bumped into Tom, who steadied her. “Did the thunder wake you?” she asked, aware of his hands still on her arm and waist.
As if to emphasize her words, thunder rumbled again and a flash of lightning cast a silvery brilliance in the hall and was gone, followed by the hiss of a sudden downpour.
“I hoped you’d be scared of thunder and jump into my arms. You can get in my sleeping bag and be cozy.”
“Are you trying to wrangle an invitation to sleep in my new bed?”
He ran his finger lightly over her collarbone. “My darlin’, if I get an invitation to get on your new bed, I will not sleep. I can think of wonderful ways to try out that new bed.” Lightning flashed and she gazed up at him. “Damn, I want you, and it’s been a hell of a long time and we’re still married.” He drew her to him and leaned close to kiss her on the threshold of her bedroom. “You know you want to kiss,” he whispered. “Live a little, Em.”
Seven
Emily’s breath caught as her arms slipped around his neck. Common sense went with the wind. Tom was right. She wanted him, it had been a long time and they were married.
She relished being in his strong arms, held tightly against his virile body that for an hour or two could drive every problem into oblivion.
His hand roamed over her, caressing her breasts, sliding down over her bottom and drifting over her, setting her on fire with wanting him. “Why do we have this effect on each other?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
“I can’t answer your question,” he said between kisses. His tongue followed the curve of her ear and then he tugged away the T-shirt she slept in, drawing it over her head and dropping it to the floor. He cupped her soft breasts in his callused hands while his thumbs caressed her, drawing circles so lightly, making her shake and gasp with pleasure.
“I can’t resist you. I never could.” She sighed.
He framed her face with his hands. “That’s damn mutual. You would have been free of me a long time ago if we could walk away from each other, but we can’t. You take my breath away, Em. I dream about you. I still want you even when I should let you go.”
She didn’t reason out what he said to her. Instead, she kissed him and stopped all conversation. His arms tightened around her and he peeled away her pajama bottoms, tossing them aside while holding her tightly.
It had been too long, aeons, since they had made love, and his body beneath her hands was fit and strong. She wanted that strength, his passion for life, hot kisses and lovemaking that could shut out the pain of loss.
He was an exciting man, and all the things she couldn’t be—physically strong, a decorated warrior, tough, sexy. Her world had been caring for her aging uncle, raising her baby, taking pictures of families and children and pets.
For right now, Tom’s kisses drove away the heartbreaking problems between them. At the moment nothing was as important as Tom. Making love tonight would not satisfy anything except carnal lust, but she wanted him and he was here with her. If they made love, maybe she could be more relaxed with him, less sexually responsive to even the slightest touch—although that had never happened in the past. Sex with him had always had just the opposite effect, as she knew it would tonight. If they made love, she would want to make love again soon. She would want more instead of less because making love with Tom was fantastic.
She ran her hands over him. Her fingers shook as she peeled away his briefs.
His dark hair was tangled, falling on his forehead. She ran her hands over his broad, muscled shoulders, letting her hand slide down over his flat stomach, his narrow waist.