Thirty Five
Epilogue
Catherine watched her husband as he got out of bed. She wanted him to come back. There was still time left in the morning, and Catherine wanted little more than to spend it wrapped up in his arms, their limbs entangled—but he was always working early, at the desk before the sun broke the horizon.
Glen pulled on his blue jeans and started working the buttons up, turned and saw Catherine looking at him. He smiled. "You checkin' me out?"
She raised her eyebrows. "No, sir. I wouldn't dare."
"That's what I thought." He pulled a shirt from the closet and put his arms through, one after the other. Catherine's looks hadn't changed one bit. Well, most of her. Her belly was just starting to show. Folks would be talking about that.
He would let them talk. There was no stopping it. They were going to talk no matter what happened. They would have talked if they hadn't gotten pregnant, too. Just a matter of time. They would move on to something else.
Glen couldn't help himself. He stepped back over to the bed, knelt on it and leaned in to give his wife a kiss. Three years now, and they were finally settled. Things felt normal. It took them long enough.
He went back over to the bureau and ran the belt through the loops of his jeans. Fitted the holster through.
"I love you," he said, turning to Catherine one last time before he left.
"I love you too, hon."
"I'll see you tonight."
"I know you will. Be safe."
"I always am."
He smiled at the routine as he made his way to the door. Finally feeling normal. He pulled on the leather coat, looked down at the table by the door. The pin was still there, right where he'd left it last night. He fitted it onto his chest.
Wouldn't be much of a Sheriff without it, after all.
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Historical Western Romance
Amy Faye
Published by Heartthrob Publishing
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...He pulled away. "Last chance to change your mind," he breathed. It took a real force of effort to stop as long as he had.
She answered by rocking her hips forward. "Shut up and kiss me."
He intended to do a great deal more than that, though. He turned, her weight still suspended in his arms, and dropped her on the sofa. She bounced a little ways back up, and by the time she was settled he was beside her, working the buttons on her dress as quick as his thick fingers would allow.
Her skirt came off easily. How many layers did these proper ladies wear, he cursed. Then a wicked idea struck him, and his hand started to trace a line up between her thighs. There was one sure way to avoid too much trouble.
Marie was gasping for air, now, her breath coming in ragged spurts that had a little more voice to them than might have been absolutely necessary. His cock strained against his jeans, desperate to get out and join the game.
He found her already moist. His fingers barely grazed across her lips and she jolted in surprise, her hand darting down to stop him. She stopped it as he did it again, his fingers darting between the outer lips and finding the hardened nub at the top of her womanhood.
Her legs parted for him and he couldn't stop a smile from spreading on his face.
"Oh, you liked that?"