Letters to Kelly by Suzanne Brockmann

Author:Suzanne Brockmann [Brockmann, Suzanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2003-01-28T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Kelly awoke as dawn was beginning to edge its way past the hotel room curtains. T. lay in the big bed beside her, his arm possessively draped across her, holding her close, her back against his chest.

She felt the familiar jolt of sexual excitement that always shot through her when she was near this man. It flared into full-blown desire as she felt his most masculine part pressing into her leg.

T. Jackson even wanted her in his sleep.

Being desired so intensely gave her a powerfully strong feeling. It was similar to the way she’d felt as a kid when she’d climbed out onto the roof of the house. She felt daring, bold and adventurous. She felt an adrenaline high, a rush.

But that wasn’t the kind of feeling she wanted from a relationship.

She wanted to feel safe and warm. She wanted to feel secure. She wanted to be cherished, not hungered for.

T. looked so peaceful, so serene, so content as he slept. With his hair disheveled, an unruly jumble of waves falling down across his forehead, with his long, dark lashes lying against his smooth, tanned cheeks, he was, truly, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was funny, smart, bright and fun to be around. But he’d broken her heart once, and there was no reason to believe that he wouldn’t do it again. No, she could not let herself love him again.

How could you love T. again, when you never stopped loving him? a little voice in her head asked.

But she had stopped loving him. She could remember the exact time, the exact hour it had happened.

That was when you wanted to stop loving him, the voice said. It doesn’t mean you really stopped. People can’t just turn their feelings off like a light switch. You still love him.

No, Kelly thought almost desperately. She didn’t love T., and she could prove it.

Quietly she slipped out of bed and went into the living room. She dressed quickly and grabbed her backpack and jacket, and crept out of the room and out of the hotel.

Standing at the underground trolley stop, she waited for the train that would take her home.

See, she told herself, she didn’t love him. If she loved him, she wouldn’t have been able to walk away.

Okay, the little voice in her head said. So how come you’re crying?

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