Free Yours, Mine & Ours by Jennifer Greene Page B

preschools?”
    She started to laugh…and then he did, too.
    â€œI know,” he said wryly. “I can remember when I had the spare time for music, restaurants, a show, whatever. Now it’s analyzing what makes a four-year old fib and deciding whether he needs vaccination shots for preschool. What happened to my real life and will it ever show up again?”
    Amanda felt a heart tug…she could have asked the exact same question, and she couldn’t believe there was someone else who understood exactly what she was going through. This kind of talk…it wasn’t like leaning. It wasn’t like counting on a white knight torescue her. It was just…incredible…to find someone else who needed to reach out for the same reasons.
    A friend.
    A plain old real friend.
    What a wild concept.
    â€œWhat?” he said, as if trying to read her expression.
    â€œNothing. I just… It’s nice to laugh. Just laugh. Just be with someone else,” she said honestly.
    â€œYeah. No strings. No weirdness. No worrisome anything.”
    â€œExactly,” she said, and in that peaceful moment, her sanity took a complete nosedive. There was no explaining it. Mike lurched up from the deck steps to stand up, and start for home. She stood up at the same time, thinking it was time to turn in. Screen doors were open; it’s not as if they couldn’t hear their kids, but it had been a long day. She suspected he was as ready for an early night as she was, and started to say so.
    Only, their shoulders accidentally grazed again, when they were both in motion. And because it was dark, she stumbled on the bottom step. He caught her, kept her from falling. They were still laughing…but then she lifted her laughing face up to his, intending to say something warm and friendly.
    Suddenly there was a second of silence. As magical as the firefly night. As compelling as water andfood and shelter. As restlessly disturbing as the air just before a thunderstorm.
    And then the storm hit.
    These weren’t like the kisses before. This was Gorilla Glue. Once he pulled her into his arms, she couldn’t pull free. Once her mouth found his, he either couldn’t or wouldn’t let go.
    He spun her—possibly just an instinctive moment to protect them both from falling. Whatever the reason, he whirled her down the step, into the grass, into the dark shadows of the yard. A simple turn somehow escalated into a wild, crazy dance. A dance of kisses. A dance of stolen laughter. A dance of silliness at first, yet transformed by the rhythm of silk and shadows into something darker, richer. Sexier.
    He murmured something, into her hair, onto her throat, a whisper that tickled her skin, tingled her senses. She lifted her arms to loop around his neck, wanting to look at him, to understand what was going on.
    He looked back, but his eyes were too dark, too mesmerizing. His palms skidded down her sides, taking in ribs, waist, hips, shaping her, learning her. Then he bent down for another sweep of a kiss, this one involving teeth and tongues and pressure.
    She curved closer, spine bowed, so her breasts and belly could rub against him. She hadn’t felt this ignition charge since…since he’d first kissed her. But that was controllable. This wasn’t. The divorce hadbrought on an epic stretch of sexual deprivation. But desire so fierce, so luscious, that she couldn’t catch her breath?
    He made her feel it. The desire to risk all. The brand of need that tangled every nerve in the body. Abandonment. That’s what she wanted. Just once in her life. To abandon all reason, all good sense, and just give into the power of this man, this moment, this incredibly powerful wildness.
    A dog suddenly barked. Not his hound. Not her Darling. A neighbor’s dog…reminding her—and apparently Mike—that they were in the middle of a neighborhood. His head shot up. She lifted hers at the same