Heartland by Sherryl Woods

even said another word to the woman who was watching him with amusement.
    â€œI would have sworn a few minutes ago that this was a delaying tactic,” she taunted.
    â€œIt was,” he confessed. Then he grinned at her. “Now that I’m satisfied, though, I have another hunger nagging at me.”
    â€œAnd what’s that?” The question was all innocent curiosity, but the gleam in her eyes was pure seduction.
    â€œYou, my sweet.” He beckoned. “Come here.”
    Though her hands trembled, she rose and came to him, standing before him tall and proud. He reached out and clasped her hands to still them. “Please, don’t be afraid of me.”
    â€œI’m not. I’m afraid of us,” she admitted. “Of what you do to me.”
    Her candor surprised him, but he understood at once exactly what she meant. He, too, was awed by the power of the emotions that had captured them and held them both for so many years. “We can wait.”
    A faint smile tugged at her lips. “Maybe you can, but I’ve already been waiting for eleven years. Love me, Steven. Please.”
    A groan tore through him. His blood surged, hot and swift. He was on his feet at once, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her back up the stairs.
    â€œI feel like the trembling maiden in some Gothic novel,” she said, the words whispered against his bare chest, her arms slipping past his shirt to caress the taut muscles of his back. “As if I’m being carried off to meet my fate.”
    â€œI am your fate,” he whispered. “I’ll prove that to you tonight.”
    * * *
    â€œYou are so beautiful,” he whispered as the pale light of moonbeams whispered across her body. “You’re exactly the way I remembered you.”
    â€œYou told me I’d gotten skinny.”
    â€œI must have been crazy. All the curves are still here, and I want to explore every one of them.”
    â€œDo you plan on one of the long Lewis and Clark expeditions?” she inquired in a tone that was equal parts of amusement and impatience.
    â€œI just want this to be good for you,” he said, intensifying his touch. “I don’t want to hurry you.”
    â€œThen I’m afraid you’ll have to keep your hands to yourself.”
    He shook his head. “You’re asking the impossible.”
    â€œIn that case,” she began, and before he realized her intention, she had lifted herself on top of him until she was astride his thighs, “I’d better take charge.”
    Laughing, he said, “There’s never been a time since I’ve known you that you weren’t in charge.”

Chapter Seven
    F ingers of sunlight crept into the room until they brushed across Lara’s bare shoulders. She felt the gentle strokes of golden warmth and awoke with a sleepy, satisfied smile. Even without the bright promise of dawn, today would have been a day to celebrate. Not only was Kelly safe and well, but love, the most precious of all gifts, had been given back to her.
    Still not quite able to believe it, she rolled to her side and touched Steven’s cheek. Caressing the light stubble of his beard and the warmth of his skin reassured her that last night had not been a dream. He was very real, and as a lover he was everything she’d remembered—gentle and considerate, demanding, yet giving far more than he took. Though the emotional and physical cost of the rescue must have been high, Steven had not let her see it. He had shown her only the strength and tenderness and passion that had been missing from her life for so long. Through the night he had reawakened her senses, until her body sang once more with the joy of being desired and fulfilled.
    â€œOnly with you, dear one,” she whispered, her touch lingering on his cheek. “Only with you.”
    Suddenly she heard a scampering in the hallway. The door to the room burst open.
    â€œAunt Lara!