Page 43 of Landing Love

Oh God. She was sorry. That was the last thing he wanted. “Don’t be.”

“I’m sorry about everything. I was barely there today, and here you’ve been so kind to me.”

He kissed her forehead and whispered, “Ann.”

“And thank you for marrying me. You must think me ungrateful the way I acted today.”

“No, I think you were hurt very badly. You’ve faced so much loss. And I know some of the things in your home held memories that are irreplaceable.”

She nodded. “I don’t even have a picture of him anymore.”

Oh. Of course she didn’t. His own desire to be everything to her warred with his empathy for her plight. Her grief was the only tangible reminder she had of her first marriage. He wanted to fix it, but he wasn’t sure how. What was lost in the fire was gone forever. He caressed her hair. “Junior will know who his papa was. We’ll make sure of it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m talking about him again. I want to be a good wife to you. Truly I do.”

Running his thumb over her cheek, he said, “You will be. And you don’t have to forget him for my sake. He loved you and cared for you before I ever met you. I’m grateful to him for giving you the love you deserve. This wound may never heal, but I hope you can find your way forward anyway. Live the life he wanted you to live, the life he would have given you if he’d survived. I’m sure he loved you too much to want you to dwell on grief.”

He kissed her forehead and then each cheek, then looked into her eyes, dark in the moonlight.

“Thank you.” She caressed his cheek. “You are too good to me. I don’t know what I’ve done in life to deserve you, but I’m grateful.”

The tug between them tightened—a connection that would not let go. Ever since he first met her, it had been there, and now it was stronger than ever. They were meant to find each other. She was the woman he’d been waiting for.

She touched her forehead to his and kissed him lightly on the lips. He couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss and caressing her hair. Much to his surprise, she responded by snuggling closer, her leg tangling with his. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and he breathed in sharply.

“Ann,” he panted. “What are you…?”

“You want me.”

“God, yes.”

“I don’t know if or when I’ll ever feel ready, but you’re right. I can’t live in the past. You’re my husband now, and part of being married is…” She traced his jaw with her finger.

“You mean you want to…” She couldn’t mean that. Could she? Despite his current state, he had doubts. She had made it quite clear earlier that she was unprepared.

“I don’t want to deny you because of my grief.”

He pulled back. He certainly didn’t want her to do this out of a sense of obligation. “Ann, I’d rather wait until you want to be with me.”

There was a long silence. Then she whispered almost too quietly to hear, “I do want to be with you.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

Hell’s bells. She wanted to be with him. She said so. Why did he mistrust? He couldn’t help worrying she was doing this out of a sense of duty.

Then she kissed him again, stroking his back, and then reaching between them to brush her fingers over the arousal he’d hoped she hadn’t noticed.

Oh, dear Lord. There was only so much a man could take. Kissing her again, he gave in to the desire he could not deny. It was too much. It was so much. It was everything. He needed her with every ounce of his being, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

She explored his back as he ran his hand from her thigh up her side to her breast. He delicately traced its curve through the thin cotton, as she leaned into his touch.

Her breast was heavy and full in his hand. He caressed it reverently as he nibbled on her ear and kissed her neck. How he’d craved the feel of her just like this, dreamed of it. And here she was offering herself up, opening to him. She took his hand gently and slid it beneath the thin fabric to touch her directly, and he touched the puckered skin of her hardened nipple.

She gasped.

He pulled back. “Did I hurt you?”