Free The Night that Changed Everything by Anne McAllister Page B

bone-deep contentment, relaxation, a sense of serenity and well-being as Nick’s weight settled against her. He would have moved off. She held him where he was—wasn’t ready to let go. Not now. Not yet.
    Their hearts were still hammering in unison. His sweat-dampened cheek rested against hers. Midnight shadow whiskers abraded her sensitive skin. Instinctively Edie turned her head toward them, pressed her lips to his cheek, breathed in the scent of him.
    Slowly he turned his head, too, so that they lay facing each other, sharing the pillow, their noses nearly touching, their eyes open, watching each other silently.
    There were no words. At least Edie couldn’t think of any. So she smiled. It said everything she couldn’t find words for.
    Nick didn’t smile. He looked like a man who didn’t know what had hit him. That made Edie’s smile widen.
    His eyelids flickered shut. He opened them again, seemed to focus on her once more. But within moments his eyes shut again, and this time they stayed shut. His breathing slowed and deepened.
    He was asleep.
    This time Edie didn’t sleep at all. Her breathing, like Nick’s, slowed and settled into a regular peaceful rhythm once more. But she felt no exhaustion now, no lassitude. She felt centered. Settled. Physically a little sore because she hadn’t done this sort of thing in a while. But on the whole she felt astonishingly good.
    Great sex will do that for you,
she thought, remembering similar feelings after she’d made love with Ben. But with Ben it hadn’t only been great sex. There had always been something more.
    There had been a connection between them, the sense that together they made beautiful music, that together they created something greater than the two of them could on their own.
    Could that happen with Nick, too?
    The thought came from out of nowhere—or from some wellspring deep within. Edie didn’t know where. She knew only that even thinking such a thing was a mistake.
    Nick didn’t want that. He’d made it absolutely, perfectly clear that he wasn’t interested. And she had agreed to that. She’d assured him—and herself—that she wasn’t interested in anything else, either.
    She wasn’t. She hoped.
    And if she was?
    Well, Edie acknowledged, that was her problem.
    Now she lay quietly and allowed her gaze to trace Nick’s sleeping features. He looked younger asleep, his hard featuresgentled. Was it the “great sex” that had softened them? Edie wondered. Or was it the great sex
with her?
    Had he felt the sense of connection, too?
    Or—Edie forced herself to confront the possibility—was she just a lonely widow trying to rationalize a night of very uncharacteristic behavior?
    She didn’t have the answer to those questions. All she knew is that she wouldn’t get those answers tonight. Maybe she never would.
    But lying here was not helping. It was only making her want things she had no right to, with a man she didn’t really know.
    Except a part of her thought she knew Nick Savas very well indeed.
    He had showed her tonight that it was possible to find life after Ben. And she certainly knew she would be thinking about him—and not about Kyle Robbins—for some time to come.
    But now she needed to get up and get dressed and go back to her own room—to her own life.
    There, over the next days or weeks or months, she might discover the answer to what she’d been doing tonight.
    Carefully Edie eased herself from beneath his arm, then slipped out of the bed, wincing as she began to move about and gather up her clothing. Muscles she never knew she had were reminding her of their existence now.
    In the bathroom—thank heavens for some modern conveniences!—she put on a small light and dressed as quickly as she could, which wasn’t very as she had to slither into the dress since no one was available to button it up the back for her, and she could hardly saunter down the corridors of Mont Chamion castle with her dress hanging half