Maggie Shayne - Wings in the Night 01 by Twilight Phantasies

Author:Twilight Phantasies [Phantasies, Twilight]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-09-24T16:41:33+00:00

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He shuddered. She felt his hands tremble with it. He heard her thoughts. With her face averted she found the courage to speak them aloud. "Why do you always... hold back?"

His sigh was not quite steady. "This is not the wisest subject to discuss with you naked, wet and plied with brandy." He kneaded her buttocks with soapy hands, but removed them soon. She rolled over, studying his face in the candlelight. "Do you want me?"

His jaw twitched as he studied her, "More than I want to draw another breath."

"Then why—"

"Hush." The command was bitten out. He rose from his crouching position beside the tub and pulled a blanket-sized towel from a rack. He held it wide open and waited. "It is for your own good, Tamara," he told her.

Tamara got up, stepped out of the bath and onto the thick rug beside the tub. His towel-draped arms closed around her, then moved away, leaving the towel behind. "I'll leave you to dress—"

"You didn't leave me to undress," she snapped. She wasn't certain what made her angrier—the knowledge that she wanted him or the fact that he refused to oblige her.

"Your blouse is ruined." He nodded toward the stand where he'd placed her clothes after she'd discarded them. "There is one of my shirts for you to wear." He turned from her and strode out of the room.

"For my own good," she fumed after he left her. She reached down into the bubbly water and jerked the stopper out. "Why is everything I hate always supposedly for my own good? It's like I don't know what's good for me and what isn't."

She roughly adjusted the towel under her arms, and tucked the corners in to hold it there. She knew what was good for her. She was an adult, not a child. She wanted him, whatever he was. And he wanted her, dammit. All of this honorable restraint bull was making her crazy. The only time she felt right anymore was when he held her, when he kissed her.

Tonight. . . tonight more than ever she needed that feeling of rightness, of belonging. She moved very slowly through the door, down the hallway and back into the living room. Eric's back was to her. He knelt in front of the fireplace, feeding sticks into it. She made no sound as she moved barefoot over the parquet floor, onto the colorful Oriental rug, but he knew she approached. She felt it. She stopped when she stood right behind him, and she placed her damp hands on his shoulders. He'd removed his jacket when they'd arrived here, and rolled his shirt sleeves up when he'd bathed her. His arms, bare to the elbows and taut with tense muscles, stilled at her touch.

Slowly he rose. He turned, and when he looked down at her, his eyes seemed almost pain filled. "You are not making this easy."

His white shirt's top two buttons were open. She touched the expanse of his chest visible there.

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