Second Chance Mountain Man by Frankie Love

Author:Frankie Love [Love, Frankie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-03T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Honey

The rain comes down in buckets and as Hawthorne kisses me it’s like the skies knew what we needed. And if people think sunshine is pure happiness, they’ve never kissed in the rain.

Because Hawthorne’s lips against mine are blue skies and my body against his is a garden of dreams just waiting to grow. And as the rain covers us, his mouth covers mine.

Our lips part, our tongues entwine and I wonder how I ever left him, this man who holds me in his arms, whose broad shoulders would protect me from any storm. But he is also a man who knows I can handle the thunder and lightning on my own. Who taught me that I’m strong enough to stand in the wind and not be blown over.

I met him when I saw myself as a fragile flower, but he taught me that my petals couldn’t fall away so easily. He loved me as I grew into something braver than I ever imagined myself to me.

And he laid it all out there for me. His heart.

After all that ... I still left.

“Don’t you hate me?” I ask between kisses, my tears streaking my face as the rain still falls. My dress clings to me and I cling to him. He doesn’t answer. “You should hate me, Hawthorne.”

He cups my cheek with his hand, his touch sending shivers of desire over my body, waking me up from a year-long sleep, and he shakes his head. “Never.”

I close my eyes, the tears seeping through, and he brushes them away with his thumb. “You needed to go, to figure out what you wanted.”

I nod, my heart on fire, my soul his for the taking.

He knows. He laces his fingers with mine, and we run from the rain, into the hotel, knowing what comes next. Us.

In the elevator, our hands run up and down our drenched bodies, clawing at one another in a way that means only one thing. Yes. Yes. Please.

He slides a key card into his hotel room door and he pulls me in the room, and he holds my face with both his hands. “Honey, it’s been so long.”

My eyebrows lift, I lick my lips, wanting and needing him. Him. Him. Now.

“You’ve waited for me?”

“Always.”

He pulls down the zipper of my dress, and I push back his suit coat, loosen his tie. We kick off shoes and we tear off everything else.

Nothing is left but his body and my body and the passion that was always there; the passion I knew would consume me in a way that would leave nothing on the table. If I gave him my heart in its entirety it would never be the same. I would never be the same.

I held back and he leaned in, and now…

Now I’m back and he never left. Pain pierces me in a way that floods me with regret.

“I’m sorry,” I say to the sliver of space between us.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“You proposed and I just left you.” I gasp at the memory, covering my mouth with my hands, shame coursing through me.

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