AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I had to go, Leigh. Please believe that.”
“I do,” she said earnestly, leaning down to kiss his cheek.
“But I’ll never have to desert you again. This leg will keep me out of commission for a while. By the time it heals, I can leave the company, knowing they’ll have someone well trained. I’ll leave Flameco for good.”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Chad.”
He grinned. “Just like putting up that baby bed. You didn’t ask. I volunteered.” His face became solemn. “I’ve had a helluva good time, Leigh, doing what I did. It was an adventure few young men ever get to have. I made more money than I could spend, but had enough sense to invest most of it and not fritter it away. I loved the job, the daring of it, the satisfaction of knowing I was saving other lives.”
His words almost echoed those of his father as he had tried to explain to Leigh how he’d felt about his work. “But I love you more. I love Sarah more. I love our life together more. Hanging out with a bunch
of rowdy guys, traveling around the world, which I’ve already seen several times, fighting those fires, no longer holds any attraction for me. I want to dabble in my businesses closer to home, raise my daughter and start on some brothers and sisters, love my wife.”
“Are you sure, Chad? I’m willing to accept anything you do. I couldn’t live with myself if I thought I had kept you from doing something you loved doing.”
His satanic grin and the sparkle in his eyes should have warned her that the conversation had taken a change in direction. “I’ll tell you something I love doing that I’ve been kept from doing these past few weeks.”
His hand found its way under the sheet. “I love doing this.” Her breast was taken under the ardent supervision of his hand. He caressed it with deceptive nonchalance, like an expert ice skater who makes it look so easy, but whose every move is calculated and rehearsed. “I love doing this,” he said, bringing her nipple to rapt attention with masterful fingertips. “I love doing this.” He peeled the sheet away and lowered his head to treasure her with his mouth. Lips and teeth and tongue were all employed to cherish her.
“Do you know how much I love you, Leigh?” he asked. “Do you?”
“Yes, I know. And I love you. I love you,” she whispered, though the powers of speech were almost beyond her. His hands reacquainted themselves with her body. He stroked her back, her breasts, the lean midriff, the slender thighs, the feminine domain between them.
“Sweet…” he said on a sharp intake of breath as she joined the sensual foray. “I love you, Leigh. From the beginning, from the moment you reached out to me with such blind trust, I’ve loved you. Oh, darling, touch me like that again… it’s heaven. Paradise.”
“I was so afraid something would happen to you and you wouldn’t know that I love you. I do. So much.”
“I never doubted it.”
“Oh… Chad… please there… there.”
“My pleasure.” As always his touch transported her to a sublime region where her senses became saturated with him, leaving no room for anything else. He had her heart, her soul, her body, and had taken them all with her full consent. She undulated against the hand that was loving her with unsurpassed gentleness, and felt herself being swept into the rushing current of emotions that carried them both.
“Chad, your leg…? Your cast…?”
“It’ll be all right,” he assured her as his body blanketed hers. “Trust me.”
She always had.
About the Author
Sandra Brown is the author of sixty-three New York Times bestsellers. There are over 80 million copies of her books in print worldwide, and her work has been translated into thirty-four languages. She lives in Texas. For more information you can visit www.SandraBrown.net.
When Dr. Emory Charbonneau disappears on a mountain road in North Carolina, her heart-pounding story of survival begins, taking the age-old question, “Does the end justify the means?” and turning it on its head.
Please see the next page for an excerpt from Mean Streak
Prologue
Emory hurt all over. It hurt even to breathe.
The foggy air felt full of something invisible but sharp, like ice crystals or glass shards. She was underdressed. The raw cold stung her face where the skin was exposed. It made her eyes water, requiring her to blink constantly to keep the tears from blurring her vision and obscuring her path.
A stitch had developed in her side. It clawed continually, grabbed viciously. The stress fracture in her right foot was sending shooting pains up into her shin.
But owning the pain, running through it, overcoming it, was a matter of self-will and discipline. She’d been told she possessed both. In abundance. To a fault. But this was what all the difficult training was for. She could do this. She had to.
Push on, Emory. Place one foot in front of the other. Eat up the distance one yard at a time.
