A Gift from the Past by Carla Cassidy Page A

memories of making love to her in the past.
    When they had been married and living together, the physical side of their relationship had been intense and beautiful. She’d been his first and only lover, and he’d been her first and only.
    They had grown from young, novice teenagers fumbling in the new arena of desire, to lovers experienced in the art of giving and receiving pleasure from one another.
    As the memories burned hot in his mind, he pulled her closer against him, his tongue swirling with hers. The desire that had been simmering from the moment he’d arrived back in town now raged nearly out of control inside him.
    He slid his hands down her slender back and she seemed to meld against him, into him. Cupping her buttocks, he broke the kiss only long enough to trail kisses down her throat. She raised her face, allowing him better access to the hollow of her throat and although he’d thought it impossible, his desire for her increased.
    It had been so achingly long since he’d been with her. It had been so long since he’d tasted the sweetness of her lips, stroked the silk of her skin, lost himself in her heat.
    He stopped kissing her only long enough to sit on the edge of the bed and pull her down next to him, then he reclaimed her lips as they both fell backward on the soft, welcoming mattress.
    He immediately rolled halfway on top of her,relishing the feel of her bare legs against his, desperately wanting more.
    Her nipples were visible despite the fact that she wore a bra and a tank top, and the sight of the pebbly hardness aroused him even more. He covered one of her breasts with his hand and rubbed his thumb against the turgid nipple. A deep, throaty moan issued from her.
    Slow, he told himself. He wanted to take it slow although his body demanded immediate relief. He didn’t want to hurry. He wanted to savor each caress, every kiss. He wanted to let her know through his touch that he wanted to be back in her life forever.
    Slow, he thought again, but even as he told himself to slow down, his fingers pushed her tank top up above her lacy bra. Taking it slow was one thing, thoroughly torturing himself was quite another.
    It had been over five long years since he’d last held her in his arms, five long years since he’d felt the splendor of her naked body against his. Take it slow be damned.
    He sat up and quickly pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it on the floor nearby. He then pulled her up and also took off her tank top, tossing it near his own shirt on the floor.
    Her smoke-colored eyes were glazed as he wrapped his arms around her and once again lowered his mouth to hers. As he kissed her deeply,soulfully, his fingers unclasped the fastening of her bra and the garment slid away from her, leaving her half-naked in his arms.
    Although words of love filled his head, begged to be released by his mouth, he kept his silence. She’d told him early in their marriage that she didn’t like love talk, that she liked her lovemaking to take place in silence.
    So, he bit back the words and instead spoke of his love and his passion with his actions. As his mouth moved down her neck, across her collarbone to her naked breast, her fingers tangled in his hair.
    He felt her swift intake of breath as his tongue teased the rosy tip and her fingers tightened their grasp on his hair. He moved his fingers to the waistband of her jean shorts, his intention to unfasten them and sweep them down her long legs.
    As his fingers touched the snap, her hand covered his and the glaze in her eyes cleared. She pushed against him and he immediately sat up.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said as she crossed her arms over her naked breasts. “I…I’m not ready for this…I can’t…”
    â€œNo, it’s all right,” he said despite the vast disappointment that swept through him. Too fast, he told himself. He’d tried to move things far too fast. “I