Page 93 of The Formation of Us
She leaned her head back against the edge of the tub, enjoying the massage and the feel of his hands stroking up her calves. “You know what I thought when I first met you?” she asked.
“That I was a hard-nosed, inconsiderate lawman who was trying to take advantage of you.”
“No, I thought you were a hard-nosed, very handsome lawman who could easily seduce me.”
A crooked grin slanted across his mouth. “Believe me, you weren’t easy to seduce.”
She lifted her foot from his hands and trailed her big toe down his chest to his stomach. “I wouldn’t have resisted if I’d known how tender and loving and playful you are.”
He released an exaggerated sigh. “And here I’d thought my big, bad sheriff act attracted you.”
“That tough, commanding side of you is a bit titillating.”
“Then stand up, sweetheart.”
“As you wish, Sheriff.” She rose to her feet, waiting for his instruction, willing to give him anything—everything. She would be the perfect wife, the perfect playmate, the perfect lover.
He moved to sit on the stool, then poured more oil into his hands and rubbed his palms together. Gently, he circled her waist with his hands and pulled her onto his lap. His body was hot and hard beneath her legs, against her bottom, everywhere. He pushed the pads of his thumbs on either side of her spine and slid them up to her shoulders, soothing her, exciting her, making her body surge forward and fall back into the cradle of his thighs with every delicious stroke. Over and over again he swept his hands across her shoulders and down her back, slipping around her ribs to caress her breasts, then back again and down and around and oh . . . everything in her melted.
“You have magical hands,” she said, sighing with pleasure. “I noticed them the first time I met you.”
“Ah . . . another confession. I think I’ll keep rubbing your body until you divulge all your secrets.”
She wished she could divulge everything, to ease her conscience, to be truthful with her husband, to rid their marriage bed of the lie that slept between them. But she could only give him love.
She pushed off his lap and knelt in front of him. “Let me rinse this oil off.” She slipped under the water, but two large hands clamped around her waist and lifted her back to the surface.
“Leave it,” he said, his voice hoarse with passion. He kissed the side of her jaw and she sought his mouth, hungry for him. Slowly, he moved his palms down her back and over her bottom, then up and around to her breasts. She moaned and arched toward him, but he continued that languorous rubbing down her back and over her buttocks, driving her crazy with longing.
Finally, his large, work-roughened hands cupped her bottom and lifted her onto his lap. She embraced his neck and twined her legs around his waist, sighing as he filled her. He moaned low in his throat, and her head fell back in ecstasy.
Could something this beautiful really last? This man in her arms was so good and steady, and she was lying to him every minute of every day with every word, every kiss, every caress.
Water sloshed around them, lapping at their bodies as they clutched each other breast to chest, their mouths fused, hot and urgent as they brought each other to that blissful, soaring release Faith had come to know so well. Shattered, she lowered her forehead to her husband’s shoulder, loving the man who had claimed her heart, who trusted her with his friendship, with the intimacy of his most private self. She bit her lip, but tears of mortification leaked past her defenses because she didn’t know how to protect him without betraying him.
Chapter 29
The urgent pounding on the front door brought Duke to full attention. He tossed aside the newspaper, and headed to the foyer. “Adam, stay in the parlor, and keep Cora with you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Duke opened the door to find a woman he didn’t know standing on his porch, white-faced and trembling. “I’m Millie, and I’m staying with Anna. Her husband b-broke in and he has a gun.”
“What the hell?” Fury rushed through Duke. Larry Levens was in prison for life. The bastard had killed two men, one of them a deputy sheriff. He’d beaten Anna half to death five years ago and could only be out for revenge now. “Wait here with my wife.”
The terrified woman stepped inside as Faith hurried into the foyer.
Duke opened the closet. “Anna’s husband broke out of prison,” he said, wondering why the hell he hadn’t been notified of the man’s escape. He took his gun belt off the top shelf and strapped it on. He opened the chamber, made sure the revolver was loaded, and asked Millie if anyone else was at Anna’s house. It would be safest if it was only Anna and Larry, but Duke half-hoped someone like Boyd, who lived across the street, was there to distract Levens until he could get his hands on the mean son of a bitch.
“Dahlia’s there,” Millie said, “but Larry hit her with his gun. I ran out the back door like Anna told me to do.”
“My God,” Faith gasped.
Anna and Dahlia could already be dead.
“Stay put, sweetheart. I’ll send Dahlia home as soon as I can.”
He gave Faith a quick kiss, then bolted outside, cutting across lots behind several buildings. He came out on Main Street and jogged up West Hill. Slowing his pace, he crept close to the old Pemberton Inn that had once housed hi g brother’s saloon. He crouched beneath the windows and stayed close to the building, hoping to get into Anna’s home through the small storeroom in the back. Anna’s cry, and Dahlia’s vivid, angry curse, bled through the plank walls.
