Bridget

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Bridget Page 12

by Linda Lael Miller


  She gave a soft moan. He was going to excite her all over again. “If you leave me, Trace Qualtrough, I swear by all that’s holy, I’ll come after you and bring you home.”

  He replaced the blade of grass with his tongue. “Don’t you worry,” he said. “I’m not going anyplace. Ever.”

  She closed her eyes. Gasped with pleasure as he suckled again. “Promise?”

  “Promise,” he replied, at his leisure.

  She smiled and, with a long, crooning sigh, gave herself up to her husband’s lovemaking. One thing about Trace Qualtrough—he always kept his word.

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