The warm tropical sun shone down, warming my skin, reminding me of the first time I met Paul, on this very beach in St. Tropez. We’d made love all night on our private stretch of beach. He told me repeatedly how he’d always watch out for me.
I lifted my leg over his hip, straddling his wheelchair. A padded metal brace held his head erect, white straps, made of softest chamois, kept his shoulders back, his body from toppling out of the chair. His body, though lifeless, was exercised daily by a private therapist, but it wasn’t enough for Paul. He needed to remember what it was like to make love to me, and every time he watched as my body gave way to ecstasy, in his mind and in his heart, he came, too. How could I deny him this one simple pleasure?
It had all come clear to me after Cade explained his plan. He was more interested in the money. Even if he had planned to run away with me, it was still all about the money. With Paul, it wasn’t about the money. It was about me.
I was glad for the chip Paul had planted in my cell phone that I carried in the pocket of my jogging suit that night.
I brushed an errant wisp of hair from his forehead and leaned forward, purposely pressing my breasts against his chest, hoping that he might feel something. “Did I ever show you the tie I bought for your birthday?”
His smile turned to a sexy grin, his eyes bright with arousal. “No, but I’d love to see you wearing it.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-2242-1
Mirror, Mirror
Copyright © 2008 by Pamela Johnson
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