by Diane Saxon
If she’d considered protesting, he silenced it with another deep roll of his hips against hers and stole all thought from her head.
She curled her fingers around the hard, flexed muscles in his shoulders to encourage him closer and watched the strain of his neck while he increased his rhythm, setting her pulse into overdrive.
She arched her own neck, inhaled the scent of lemons and man. She speared her fingers through his lush, soft hair, a whimper escaping her when he nipped at her neck
Hot tingles flowed over her skin, setting her pulse alight and her heart pounding. While she tried to keep up with his frantic race toward the end, she clutched him closer, hands slipping over his slick flesh, legs sliding down his heated skin. His deep, husky sounds of arousal vibrated through his chest and up his throat until they burst from his mouth along with his final deep thrust.
His heavy weight collapsed on top of her, expelling every last drop of air she’d barely been able to suck in.
As she thought about objecting, he rolled them both over, keeping her body tight against him, their slick skin sticking together. He tucked her head under his chin and wrapped his arms around her, smoothing lazy circles over her back while she tried to regulate her breathing. His was just as wild and erratic, and if she had the energy to lift her head, she would have loved to have looked into his face and seen his expression.
“Barbara?”
“Hmmm?” He’d drained every ounce of energy from her so she could barely formulate a grunt, never mind a sentence.
“I love you.”
She managed to raise her arm, curl her fingers around his unshaven cheek. A sloppy smile spread across her face, but she was unable to stop her eyelids from fluttering closed as soul-deep contentment soaked through her. “I love you too.”
»»•««
“I meant to ask.” She turned toward him and accepted the mug of thick black coffee he offered. “I noticed the purple room last night.” He almost laughed at her delicate shudder when she mentioned the word purple. “Where is your daughter?”
He spared her a quick glance and witnessed the smile drop from her face as she turned her head to watch the old car rattling down the dirt track toward the house.
“She’s here now. She spent the night with Delia. I didn’t want her disturbed.”
Barbara’s soft lips parted in surprise. “You really were confident I would come.”
“Of course.” He turned his face to the window to watch the bright profusion of lilac and pink ribbons spilling from his daughter’s raven hair as she climbed out of the car. He’d only had an inkling of doubt, but he knew if Barbara hadn’t come for him, he would have tracked her down and romanced her until she gave in. She was too precious to lose.
Warmth slid through his chest as Barbara pushed herself away from where she’d been leaning against the kitchen table ready to greet Marie.
“I feel like I’ve already met her.”
She had no idea.
The door burst open, and Marie flung herself inside, too excited to wait for his housekeeper who was helping Brynn out of the car.
“Hi.” Marie skidded to a stop and smoothed her hair back from her face with delicate fingers. Her rosebud mouth twitched up at the corners while she studied Barbara with serious chocolate eyes.
“Marie, meet Barbara. Remember I told you she was coming to visit?”
“Of course I remember, Daddy.” Marie tossed a superior and very adult look at him before she flicked her hair over her shoulder and gave Barbara a long slow perusal. “May I call you Barbie?”
About the Author
Diane Saxon lives in the Shropshire countryside in England with her tall, dark, handsome husband, two gorgeous daughters, a Dalmatian, a one-eyed kitten, a ginger cat, six chickens, and a gorgeous black Labrador puppy called Beau—a name she’s borrowed for her hero in For Heaven’s Cakes.
After working for years in a demanding job, on-call and travelling great distances, Diane gave it all up to write when her husband said, “Follow that dream.”
Having been hidden all too long, her characters have burst forth demanding plot lines of their own, and she’s found the more she lets them, the more they’re inclined to run wild.
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