Familiar Stranger. Шарон Сала

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      “Ah…David…you always were a hard sell,” she said, and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

      The weight of her body against his chest was a gift.

      “So, are you saying it’s enough?”

      She shook her head. “No, I’m not saying that, but I am saying that I’ll take what you’re willing to give. I asked for too much the first time and lost you. I’m not willing to make that mistake again.”

      He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

      “God…woman, you don’t know how many years I’ve dreamed of this.”

      She pulled back to look at him. “Oh, but yes, I do. And while I would like the luxury of being wooed and courted, I’m not willing to waste our time on the ritual.”

      “What are you saying?”

      “I want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up the same way. I want to laugh with you and cook for you and play with you. I don’t want to think about loose ends. Whatever time you have to give me will have to be enough.”

      He tunneled his fingers through her hair, taking her kiss without asking, ripping her emotions to shreds with the anguish on his face.

      “I don’t deserve this,” he said.

      “No, you don’t,” she said. “But I do.”

      He laughed softly, then swept her off her feet and into his arms.

      “Are you going to make love to me?” she asked.

      “Hell, yes,” he muttered.

      She sighed. “It’s about time.”

      “If you don’t mind,” David whispered, nuzzling the side of her neck, “I’d rather do this in a bed this time.”

      “Down the hall, third door on the right.”

      As he carried her there, he had to remind himself that this wasn’t a dream. Cara was really in his arms.

      When they reached Cara’s room, he set her down by her bed and kissed her. Tentatively, then gently, then with a low, muffled groan.

      Cara tangled her arms around his neck, clutching him desperately. When he began to take off her clothes, her knees went weak. This was happening, she knew, but it was all so surreal. She couldn’t count the number of times in her life when she’d imagined such a scene. David striding through the door and sweeping her into his arms and then carrying her off into the sunset. The fantasy had lasted through her twenties and her thirties, and somewhere around the middle of her forties, she’d given up on fantasies.

      Now this was happening and it wasn’t a dream.

      It wasn’t a fantasy.

      It was David—a rock-solid, flesh-and-blood man who wanted her as much as she wanted him.

      When he began pulling off her clothes, then his, her pulse accelerated. Seconds later, she was flat on her back in the middle of her bed and he was hovering above her.

      “You are so very beautiful,” David whispered, and then rolled over onto his side and began tracing the contours of her body with one hand, fingering the curve of her chin, cupping the shape of a breast, mapping the plains of her belly, then testing the juncture between her thighs.

      Cara’s heart was pounding, her mouth slack with desire. She wanted to touch him, too, to test the strength of his muscles against the tenderness of his gaze, but she was too distracted by what he was doing.

      “David?”

      He shook his head and leaned over her, taking license with everything that he chose while leaving her breathless and aching for more.

      One minute passed and then another and another and the coil that had been winding within Cara’s belly began to throb. She moaned, then moaned again. This time louder. This time longer.

      David’s head was pounding as the blood rushed through his veins. The need to be inside her was strong, but he was waiting for that breaking point of coming undone.

      Then he heard her gasp and saw her eyes lose all focus. When she clutched at his arms, his name a prayer on her lips, he made his move.

      “David…oh…oh…please.”

      He was above her and inside her before she took her next breath. Her climax shook him, coming within three strokes of entry, and it was all he could do not to follow. But when she started to cry in soft, happy sobs, he couldn’t hold himself back. The joy of knowing he’d given her this pleasure was an aphrodisiac he couldn’t control. He rode the feeling with all the strength he could muster, and when it was over, thought he’d died in her arms.

      Cara woke abruptly, as mothers always do when sensing something wasn’t right in their world. Only this time, it wasn’t the high-pitched wail of a frightened child that woke her, it was the man beside her. She lay motionless, listening to the labored rhythm of his breathing, and fought an urge to cry. His skin was clammy and he kept muttering something she couldn’t understand. She raised up on one elbow, staring intently into the shadowed contours of his face, then let her gaze drift down his body. She’d seen the scars. Bullet holes. A shrapnel wound. A thick, ropy scar along the back of his leg. Dear Lord, what had happened to him? What hell was he reliving in his dreams?

      Suddenly, he sat straight up in bed and she fell back in surprise.

      “David?”

      At the sound of her voice, his body went limp.

      “I forgot where I was,” he said.

      “You were dreaming.”

      “Yes.”

      “Can I get you something? A glass of water? Some aspirin?”

      He crawled out of bed and walked across the room to where his suitcase was lying.

      “Where are you going?” she asked, as she watched him dig a pair of shorts from the case.

      “I need to run it off,” he said shortly. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.”

      “Run what off, David?”

      He turned then, nothing but a mass of shadow and shape on the other side of the room, but the tone of his voice was image enough.

      “The past.”

      “But David, you can’t run away from the past.”

      “I know, but I can damn well wear it out. Now go back to sleep. I’ll let myself in when I come back.”

      “You’ll need a key,” she said, and started to get up.

      “No, I won’t.”

      Then he was gone.

      She lay there for a moment, absorbing СКАЧАТЬ