Warrior's Embrace Read Online Free Page B

between them, and for a moment she thought he was
going to kiss her. She
wanted
him to kiss her.
    “You’re soft and beautiful in the morning
sun.” He stepped backward, his camera clicking and whirring. “Pink
becomes you.”
    His voice mesmerized her. She
felt
soft and beautiful. Even without her makeup. Even with her hair not
fixed. Even with her crow’s-feet showing in the sun.
    “You have a lovely smile, Virginia.”
    “Thank you.” He was enough to make an
Egyptian mummy smile. “I didn’t expect you this soon. Did you mean
to catch me off guard?”
    He took one more shot, then slung the camera
over his shoulder, stepped in close, and gazed down at her.
    “No, Virginia. An hour was too long to wait
to see you.”
    The heat started in her cheeks, spread over
her neck, and across her breasts. He was dangerous and persuasive.
And she was alone with him, alone with nothing on under her
robe.
    “Why?” she said.
    “For this.” He cupped her face and drew her
gently to him. There was no hurry in him, no urgency, just a
beautiful certainty as he fitted their bodies together, legs
touching, hips perfectly matched, chests pressed close. He draped
her arms around his neck and wrapped his around her waist and
back.
    “And this,” he whispered. Then he took her
lips. It was not an assault but a kiss as soft as the first rains
of summer.
    Virginia didn’t stop to weigh consequences;
she just let go.
    His lips were tender, his breath sweet, and
his kiss as whisper soft as the brush of butterfly wings.
    “Virginia...” he whispered.
    “Bolton... we shouldn’t.”
    “We’ve already gone beyond that. It’s fate.
Out of our control.”
    She took his hand and led him into her house.
He needed no urging. At the foot of the staircase he swept her into
his arms and carried her up.
    “To the left,” she whispered.
    There was no pausing at the bedroom door.
Boldly he carried her inside. In a slow, sensuous movement he let
her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor.
    He dropped his cameras onto the chaise
longue, his shirt on the dressing stool, and his pants and shoes
beside the bed.
    Naked, he was a work of art. Without
speaking, she walked around him, touching, letting her fingers
graze the magnificent breadth of his chest, sinking them into the
fine dark hair, running them down his belly.
    He smiled at her, then lifted her into his
arms and spread her across the bed. Kneeling over her, he traced
her cheekbones, her brow, her lips with his fingertips. A lock of
black hair hung over his forehead, and she brushed it back.
    “I want to see your face,” she said, letting
her fingers memorize him. “You take my breath away.”
    Slowly he untied her sash, peeled off her
robe, and flung it onto the floor.
    “You won’t be needing that.”
    His rhythms were as graceful as music, and
the song invaded every part of Virginia, its cadences and harmonies
balm for her body, her heart, her soul. She felt reborn, as if the
woman who had struggled to prove herself over and over again had
vanished and in her place was somebody with wings, somebody who
knew how to fly.
    “You are so good,” she murmured, “so very,
very good.”
    ”We’re
good. It’s us, Virginia, you
and me together.”
    He paused and studied her face. His sudden
smile was as dazzling as the sun.
    “I’ve spent all my life looking for you.”
    “Shhh.” She put her hand over his lips.
“Don’t say things in the heat of passion that you won’t mean in the
cold light of day.”
    “I never say things I don’t mean.” He took up
his rhythm again.
“Never.”
    There was none of the awkwardness of new
lovers between them. Their minds were as connected as their bodies.
A mere thought from her became action from him. He understood her
sighs, her moans. He knew her moods, her desires, her
preferences.
    The years rolled away, the years of
sacrificing her own desires for the sake of her child and her
career, and she was once again a woman, a