When the Glitter Fades (Cowboys of Whispering Winds) by Renee Peterson

breaths. They’d been combustible, tireless in their love-making.
    She nodded, her eyes hooded with desire. “Make me feel that again. Give me back that feeling.”
    Neither said another word. He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, covering her neck, her cheeks, her mouth with kisses as they went. Tenderly, he laid her down on the bed, brushing the hair from her face. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Even with her lips swollen from their kisses, her eyes from crying and dressed in raggedy clothes, his heart still skipped a beat. She was everything he’d ever wanted.
    Her eyes begged him to continue. Slowly, he slid the t-shirt over her head, discarding it on the floor.  The peaks of her breast were pebbled and calling out to him. At first, he gently massaged them, taking the tips between his fingers. He had to taste her. Lowering his lips, he took a nipple into his mouth, hungrily sucking until Lanie gasped with pleasure. One hand lowered, guiding her pants down to expose the swell of her hips and well-toned legs. Heat emanated from her.
    “It’s been so long,” she pleaded breathlessly, moving her hands against the planes of his chest, working to remove his shirt.
    Her hands, gliding over his flesh, was taking away his self-control. He sat up, unbuckling his belt and removing his pants. She stared at him with unadulterated appreciation, reaching out, stroking him. With a moan, he lowered his body back over Lanie, pressing kisses from her navel upward, until his lips crashed against her mouth again, in a passionate entreaty. Her nails dug into his back and he couldn’t hold back. Entering her, he groaned with ecstasy. They made love with the passion of the first time but with the carnal knowledge of experienced lovers.
    She made him complete.
    For the first time in a very long time, he felt whole again. 
     
     
     

 

     
    The smell of eggs cooking crept into Lanie’s nostrils, waking her from a deep slumber and delicious dream. Mmm, but who was cooking? A glance to the right side of the bed displayed crumbled sheets and an indent on the pillow where someone had spent the night. Memories of the night before came flooding back as her mind became fully awake. She refused to think about how she felt about what had happened; for the moment only letting herself remember how right it felt to be back in Jeremy’s arms. When they’d made love, her world finally shifted back into the place where it belonged. Something like that couldn’t be completely wrong, even if it did create an entirely new set of complications.
    Rolling out of bed, she slipped her robe on and followed her nose to the kitchen. Jeremy stood at her stove, bare-chested and wearing only a pair of jeans. Now that was a man with a chest to curl her toes, she mused with lust.
    “Good morning,” he greeted tentatively, standing back and making no move toward her.
    “You cooked breakfast?” In the last years of their relationship, when everything was going sour, he’d never once cooked for her.
    “Thought you might be hungry, but I can’t guarantee it’s edible.” He took a step forward, then stopped. He seemed so unsure of himself.
    Guessing at the problem, she sought to reassure him. “About last night…we’ll have to talk about it, but not right this minute.”
    “Yeah,” he agreed.
    “I just wanted you to know, I don’t regret it.”
    “Oh, thank God.”  Relief washed over him and he came to her, pressing a cheek against her hair.
    Her arms automatically slid under his, hugging him, assuring him he hadn’t done wrong by making love to her. She’d wanted it, needed it more than she’d needed her next breath. And then it struck her. She’d first seen it that day last month when she’d went to his house.  She’d thought it when he spent so much time with Cody. She’d felt it when he’d defended her against Jase. Now she knew.
    This man, standing in front of her, embracing her, didn’t have it in him to be