her core.
“Come on,” he said, his voice rough.
She could do nothing but follow him. Which was terribly telling. Not just of this moment, but of the past fifteen years or so.
And once they were outside, her breath caught in her throat, all of the sensations building in her chest, making it impossible for her to do anything but stand there and tremble. He was touching her. And right before them was a beautifully appointed table set for two, a candle at the center.
It was like something that had been torn from her fantasies. Her girlish fantasies. When loving him had simply meant aspirations of sweet romance, holding hands and making sophisticated conversation.
Back before she had realized that there was much more to the connection between men and women than candlelight and hand-holding.
“Is something wrong?”
She looked at him, at his fierce expression. There was an intensity behind his eyes that she couldn’t decode. All she knew was that she had waited most of her life to have him look at her like this. And for some reason he was looking at her this way now. She was... She was powerless to resist. Utterly and completely held captive by that look in his eyes.
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