Christmas in River’s Edge (The Weaver Sisters Book 3) by Nan Reinhardt

Author:Nan Reinhardt [Reinhardt, Nan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance
ISBN: 9781961544161
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Published: 2023-10-22T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The sun warmed Jenny’s face and she rolled over onto her back, stretching like a lazy cat in the beams streaming in through the window. She felt amazing. Better than she had in months, maybe years. The incredible dream she’d had last night left her sated and inexpressibly happy. Suddenly, her eyes flew open. It was no dream! And neither was the gorgeous man sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, his waffle-weave Henley unbuttoned to reveal the soft dark mat of hair on his tanned chest.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Dimples creased Gabe’s stubbled cheek.

“You’re still here.”

Immediately, his expression sobered. “Not okay?”

She was too aware that she was clad only in Gabe’s plaid flannel shirt under the rumple of bedsheets. “Very okay.” She glanced around. “How did I get up here? The last thing I remember is you and me on the sofa . . . and . . .” She flushed with heat, aware that a red blush was spreading up her neck and into her cheeks. Even in thirteen years of marriage, she’d never had a night like the one they’d shared—passionate, raw, intoxicating. She’d only ever been with Ryan, who had been more concerned with his own gratification than hers and unwilling to experiment or play. Gabe’s remarkable skills had left her gasping and longing for more of something she’d never known before in her life. He’d explored every inch of her, inspiring her to do the same to him, and opening up a whole new world of pleasure.

“I carried you.” His dark, sultry eyes sent a shiver down her spine as memories of the previous night returned full force. How they flooded back, making her heart race and sensation bubble up in her core.

She pressed her palms to her hot cheeks. “We . . . we . . .” The words were stuck in her throat.

He stroked his thumb across her lower lip. “Yeah.” His voice was husky. “Creatively, but, yeah, we did.” Passion flared in his eyes, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “You are my fantasy, Jenny Weaver. Always have been.”

Feeling like an inexperienced girl, she was afraid to even breathe, frightened that, if she did, he’d disappear, and the magic she remembered from the night before would vanish with him. How foolish to be embarrassed with a man who now knew every inch of her, a man whose lean body she’d discovered at length last night, yet she couldn’t seem to look him in the eye.

“I’ll be better prepared next time, so we can . . . you know . . .” He flushed, too, and his brow furrowed. “I mean, assuming you want a next time.” He lifted her chin to stare into her eyes.

Jenny could have sworn she felt her heart stop and then restart at his touch. She was already hungry for him again, for his hands on her skin, his lips on hers. “I do,” she whispered fervently, and ran her fingers through his thick, black hair before drawing his face down to hers.

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