Free All Grown Up by Janice Maynard Page B

fluttered shut. Neck arched. Breathing halted. The sensation of fullness was both novel and overwhelming. “Sam. Oh, Sam.” How many times had she dreamed of this moment? And been foolish enough to let the fantasies keep her from forming relationships with other men.
    She hadn’t consciously saved herself for Sam. After all, most of the time she was able to convince herself that she despised him.
    But not now. Not like this. Her throat burned and her eyes stung. Perfection. Desire met and sated. Damp skin to damp skin. Heart to heart. So badly did she want him to say he loved her that it was a sharp pain squeezing her chest.
    His eyes were closed, his face a mask of intensity, of carnal pleasure. The pace increased. His hips pistoned, driving him deeper into her welcoming body.
    Her fingernails scored his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He reached beneath her and canted her hips for one last desperate push.
    Something exploded inside her, ecstasy and shock and a physical release so deep and utterly breathtaking that she lost a few seconds of reality in the maelstrom.
    She heard Sam shout. Seconds later, he slumped on top of her, stealing what little oxygen was left in her lungs. Her arms clung to him automatically. She was beyond rational conversation. Nothing seemed real. Not the place. Not the feelings. Not even the big, raw-boned man smothering her with his hot skin, ragged breath and beautiful body.
    As delight winnowed away with the ticking of the clock on the mantel, panic set in. What had she done? It had taken her years to recover from her first romantic debacle with Sam Ely. At twenty-one she had been mature for her age in terms of goal-setting and a life plan. And though some might say in retrospect that she’d had nothing more than a youthful crush on a man much older than she was, Annalise knew the truth.
    She had been in love. The real deal. Despite what had happened back then…and even through the intervening years of guarded hostility on her part, based on tonight’s utterly unexpected, and unbelievably wonderful events, the truth was impossible to evade.
    Annalise Wolff was still in love with Sam Ely.

Six
    T he power came back on just as faint evidence of dawn chased away dark shadows and painted the room with gray. Annalise yawned, her brain fuzzy. The night before, Sam had gone through the house and turned off all the light switches before they retired, so the only evidence that twenty-first century conveniences had returned was the gentle, reassuring hum of the heat system cranking up.
    She allowed herself one last moment to savor the odd but lovely sensation of sleeping with a man. Sam radiated heat. She was curled into his side with one bent leg across his hips and her face tucked against his chest. Sometime during the wee hours he had pulled the covers on top of them.
    She didn’t know what to do, and that was such an anomaly, she felt mildly claustrophobic. Ordinarily, she always knew what to do. Sometimes she mapped out a plan. More often than not, she plunged ahead, full speed, confident that she could handle whatever might be coming down the track.
    But that was in business. Her work was her life, a sad thing for a woman her age to admit, but there it was. She loved the challenge of space design, of color, of texture. And she loved helping people create their own nests. Especially since many of her clients had no idea what they really wanted when they signed on.
    Recently, she had spent more and more time at Wolff Mountain. It was gratifying to see her family, one at a time, finding happiness after the childhood of tragedy they had shared as a common cup. Even her big brother, Devlyn, had lately managed to lay some of his demons to rest when he reconnected with quiet, patient Gillian.
    For Annalise, it wasn’t that easy. Her brothers and cousins loved her. She knew that. And her father and uncle did, as well. But despite the close relationships they all shared, Annalise was the