Craig unlocked the door, and they stepped into a sitting room furnished with antique chests, a table, and what looked like a comfortable chair and couch.
“Let me check it out,” he said, taking a quick look into the bedroom and then the large bathroom. He came back to the bedroom and drew the drapes over the window, darkening the room.
When he turned around, he saw Stephanie standing a few feet away.
The mixture of anticipation and uncertainty on her face made his mouth go dry. He hoped his expression was more certain. He had longed for this kind of connection since he’d lost Sam. They’d grown up together and forged a bond as naturally as breathing. He knew he and Stephanie were almost there. If they dared to take the next step.
“Are you afraid of this?” he managed to ask.
“You know I am.”
“You think it would be possible to walk away from each other now?”
The question brought a spurt of panic. “No.”
He saw her swallow.
“I never made love with John Reynard,” she said.
“Thank God,” he heard himself answer.
“I came up with excuses.”
As she spoke, she took a step forward, and he did the same. They reached for each other, swaying as they clung together.
It’s going to be okay,he said.
We don’t know that.
Do you want to . . . stop?
I don’t think we can. Not now.
He absorbed the truth of her silent words as he lowered his mouth to hers for a long, hungry kiss.
When they’d gotten close before, they’d picked up thoughts from the other’s past. Now there was nothing between them but this moment in time.
They were alone, with each other. And this time nothing was going to stop them. Yet they both understood that they were taking a risk that neither of them fully understood.
CHAPTER TEN
Craig kissed her again, his hands moving over her back, down to her hips, pressing her middle to his erection, knowing they were about to change everything.
Everything had already changed the first time we touched each other.
That was true, too.
His head was pounding, a counterpoint that he wished he could banish. But it seemed to come with the arousal.
Maybe this is like the first time a woman makes love; there’s pain,she suggested.
Not a headache. That’s a different cliché. But we should go back to what you said first. What if we must break through a barrier between us?
How?
He sent her a very graphic picture. When she moved her body against his, he knew they were on the same wavelength.
He slipped his hands under the edge of her knit top, sighing as he stroked the soft skin of her back.
