To Dance Again by Hebby Roman

Author:Hebby Roman [Roman, Hebby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Late Life Romance, Second Chance Love
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2015-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Ramón opened his eyes slowly and tried to read the digital clock beside the bed. Pulling the clock closer, he saw it was after eight in the morning.

The bed dipped and something soft brushed against his hip. Maricel. Maricel—naked in bed with him.

A dream come true.

How could he let her go? But how could he keep her? She deserved better than being tied to an invalid.

She was a fever in his blood. He couldn’t get enough of her. Caressing her naked body, he marveled at the satiny feel of her skin, the rounded contours of her and the sweet hollows, too. She moaned under her breath and turned on her side with her back to him.

Closing his eyes, he stroked down her spine, cupping her buttocks and gently exploring the cleft there. This was one thing he didn’t need his eyesight for. One thing that was somehow more evocative, more sensual, if he allowed his sense of touch to take over.

Smiling to himself, he skimmed his hands over her body, tracing a lazy line over her lush curves. She shifted but was still sleeping. They’d both fallen asleep after making love.

Making love—more like a frenzied mating. She’d been so hungry the first time he’d touched her, she’d exploded. And he’d purposely checked himself until she was ready again. Knowing what he knew now, he would have never guessed she was so passionate.

Lying back against the pillow, he cocked his arms behind his head. As if following the warmth of his body, she sighed and scooted closer.

He thought about last night—how the past had almost overtaken the present. When she’d said she loved him, her words had roused some dark, slumbering beast. He couldn’t dismiss her words; no, he had to dredge up the past.

For what? To be honest with her? To let her know he hadn’t forgotten the way they’d felt, all those years ago, even if she had?

Ironic, his fixation with honesty, considering he wasn’t being truthful about his condition. And she didn’t believe his façade, either. No, she’d come up with her own explanation. Typical woman, she believed he was still in love with is ex or wanted a young woman.

If her reasoning wasn’t so off base, he’d laugh again.

They’d both made mistakes when they were young. Who was really to blame? Level headed and cautious, Maricel had played a waiting game, going to the States. But who was to say she wouldn’t have returned to him?

If he’d waited for her.

Her crack about his father had hurt. And she’d known it would. He’d spent most of his early life, trying to get over the fact his father loved him so little or despised him so much, he’d walked out on his family.

And there had been his mother’s feelings to deal with, too. He’d tried to make amends for his father’s desertion, striving to be a dutiful and caring son. But it had been a fruitless task. His mother loved him—as a son. But she pined for her husband to return.

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