And I’d be learning every inch of you
She slid her middle finger in and out, and rubbed her hand over other places needing friction.
—savoring the taste between your silky thighs.
Silky thighs…
Naomi threw her head back, arching into her hand. Luke. Luke.
And when you were ready
She was so close. His face. His tongue. His mouth. His tongue. His tongue. And then.
His member. Thick. Hot.
I’d know the heaven of being inside of you.
She cried out and then gasped at the pleasure coursing through her. This was so wrong. So very wrong. But it felt so good.
She arched again, and again, allowing the sensations to crash over and then roll through her. Until gradually, they subsided, leaving her relaxed, sprawled on her bed, her bones the consistency of pudding.
If only Luke was here to cuddle her. Being with him was a dream. A dream of what could have been. It hadn’t been fair—what she’d demanded of him this afternoon. She’d wanted to use him to make herself feel better. To make her feel somethinggoodfor a change. And although she’d known he would have found pleasure as well, it wouldn’t have been fair. Because how could she ever trust herself again where love was concerned? She’d been convinced Arthur had loved her and he’d been convincing another woman at the same time. Luke was speaking all the right words. Doing all the right things. But he was a young man who had his entire life ahead of him.
She was… used.
Being a widow was going to be lonely indeed.
* * *
A thumping sound. A tortured shout. Naomi bolted upright. Was someone breaking into the house? Awareness slowly returned. Ester wasn’t here but Naomi wasn’t in the house alone. Luke was across the hall. Another anguished cry had her swinging her feet off the side of the bed and onto the cold floor. Was he ill?
Not taking the time to put on a dressing gown, she rushed across her room and out into the hallway only to halt at his door. “Luke? Are you all right?”
When he didn’t respond, she pushed it open and peered inside.
A shaft of moonlight provided just enough light to see him thrashing and turning, caught up in the quilt twisted around his waist.
“Down!” he shouted. “Get down, damnit!” And then he jerked and tucked his head into his hands.
“Luke! Wake up!” Mindful of the baby, Naomi lowered herself onto the edge of the bed in an effort to still him. He was shivering and covered in sweat. “Luke!” she shouted louder, half-afraid he’d knock her from the bed in his panic. He opened his eyes finally, staring at her in confusion. And fear. There was fear there.
“You’re having a nightmare. It’s okay. You’re okay.” She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, his jaw, his hair. When she rubbed her fingertips along his brow, he blinked a few times and then finally seemed to come back to her. As she stroked her fingers through his hair, whatever hell he’d been caught up in faded away and his muscles relaxed.
He shook his head and, rather than allow himself a moment, pushed himself forward so that he was sitting up. “My apologies.” His voice came out gravelly.
“Don’t move.” Naomi rushed back to her own chamber, poured a glass of water from the pitcher, and then quickly returned to his side. “Here.” She shoved the drink into his hands.
Touching him now, confusion that had plagued her for days now was replaced with excitement but also belonging. She’d felt this before. The day they’d met—when she’d danced with him—when he’d assisted her off the dock and onto that little boat.
And then Arthur had come along and Luke had all but disappeared…
Because Arthur had lied to him.
Everything was different now. Luke was different. She was different.
And Arthur was gone.
She recognized this for what it was: a connection between two souls.
