The Mirrabrook Marriage. Barbara Hannay
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Her heart leapt in a quicksilver of joy. ‘Well…a girl can hope.’
‘And so can a guy,’ he said softly.
The look in his eyes made her skin feel too tight for her body. ‘Would you—um—like something else to eat?’
‘I’d like another taste of that delicious mouth of yours.’
‘Come and get it,’ she said softly.
A cloud of heat rose through her, making her body flame with outrageous longing. Slowly, Reid leaned towards her, supporting his weight on his hands and knees. His movements were so measured the air seemed to tremble with tension.
In a sensuous daze, Sarah let herself loll backwards till she lay on the rug. She tipped her head back and saw his face register surprise then a slow smile as he lowered his mouth over hers in an upside-down kiss.
She had never imagined anything quite so sexy. Only their mouths touched as they adjusted lips, teeth and tongues to this totally new angle. They kissed in a series of sips and nibbles and sweeping strokes of their tongues. It was fun and yet, oh man, incredibly intimate. Their hunger mounted quickly.
Reid moved from her mouth to sample her chin. With his knees near her head he leaned over her, kissing her throat, then he trailed on, down into the V of her shirt opening.
Sarah’s fingers flew to undo her buttons. This was what she had to have. Reid’s loving. She was his. Body and soul. She was madly in love with him. No other man would ever mean what he meant to her and she had never given herself this way to anyone else. She wanted to be Reid’s. Now. Always.
An astonishing kind of dark wildness overcame her. She needed him. And she felt a sense of panic that perhaps what she wanted most mightn’t happen. He might stop too soon.
Perhaps Reid sensed her need, or perhaps, because he’d been waiting as long as she had, he was desperate too. They fought to shed clothes, helped each other to be rid of anything that prevented them from being together skin to skin. Burning skin to burning skin.
Their kisses were fast, hot, hard. Their caresses became greedy, their movements almost savage, their bodies possessed by an urgency that was skyrocketing out of control.
Then, without warning, Reid pulled away, and he looked upset.
‘What?’ she whispered, fighting panic. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘This is wrong. It’s too wild.’
She felt suddenly cold. ‘I—I don’t mind.’
‘No, Sarah.’ His face was flushed. Angry? He was dragging in deep breaths as if struggling for control. ‘If we keep on like this I’ll hurt you.’
‘But I don’t want you to stop. I—I want you to make love to me.’
Propped on one elbow beside her, he lifted her dark hair away from her eyes and traced a hand down the side of her face. His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire but he smiled just a little sadly.
He nuzzled her ear. ‘Sweetheart, there’s no way I want to stop, but let’s take this a little easier. We’ve got all afternoon.’ Gently, he pressed his lips to the curve of her throat. ‘It’ll be even better slow.’ He kissed the dip above her collarbone. ‘I want this to be special for you. Have you any idea how special you are, Sarah?’
She felt tears spill on to her cheeks. ‘They’re happy tears,’ she hastened to assure him. ‘It’s just that I’ve been wanting this for so long.’
‘Darling girl, so have I.’ He gave a rueful little laugh. ‘That’s another reason why I want to take it slowly, otherwise it’ll be all over before we get properly started.’ With the pad of his thumb he wiped the hot path of her tears.
And then he began to kiss her again, slowly, lovingly, while his hands traced her skin with a feather-light touch.
Later, she knew that he’d given her a beautiful gift. Every girl deserved to be made love to for the first time the way Reid made love on that sweet afternoon, with the background hum of bees in nearby wattle and mild winter sunshine spilling through overhead tree branches.
She cried whenever she thought about it.
She was crying now, all these years later, curled up in her chair in the study, clasping the old school programme to her heart.
Oh, Reid, what went wrong?
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she thought of what had followed—that wonderful first year after she’d come to teach in Mirrabrook, when she and Reid were blissfully in love and her world had been perfect.
Throw the programme away. You’ve got to move on. You’ve got to forget.
But she couldn’t do it. Not yet. She’d throw it away at the end of term when it was time to leave. It would be easier then to get rid of everything in one fell swoop.
Without bothering to dry her damp cheeks, she picked up the drawing pin, stuck it through the hole in the paper and pinned it back on the wall. And felt guilty for being so weak.
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