Free Soul Keeper by Natalie Dae Page A

if he doesn’t come?
    Their two years of talking via email sped through her mind. The warm friendship he’d given as her five-year marriage deteriorated, the advice, the hope that there were men out there who didn’t treat women badly. Their chats had blossomed when she’d filed for divorce, moved on to light flirting and, two years later, he’d admitted to falling for her. Wanting her in his life permanently, promising to cherish her forever.
    A lump expanded in her throat and she swallowed, fighting the urge to sob.
    Please don’t let him be another of those men who promises the world and fails .
    Tears stung her eyes and she blinked in an effort to see the passengers. What if she missed him? What if he’d looked at the crowd and thought she hadn’t turned up? Carrie brought a hand out of her pocket and dabbed the tears away with her fingers, took in a deep breath and spun in the opposite direction. Air whooshed out of her and she clapped her hand over her mouth, her smile so wide it hurt.
    There he stood, leaning against a lamppost, hands in black trouser pockets, suit jacket covering a white shirt. The dark blue tie he’d said he’d wear rested over his chest, and a lazy grin tweaked his mouth. Her knees buckled and she lowered her hand, suddenly unsure of what to do next. He held out his arm and she ran toward him, pushing through the thinning crowd, her whole body needing his touch, his arms about her.
    She stopped inches in front of him and looked at his beautiful face, itching to cup his cheeks and press her mouth to his. His smile widened, and he took his hand from his pocket and brought his arm up to match the other. Carrie stepped into them, molding her chest to his, and ran her hands up and down his back. Lifting her face, she lost herself in his gaze, and a sense of belonging stole over her. Of rightness. Of undeniable love.
    “Hello, sweetheart,” he said.
    Carrie almost choked on the emotion swelling in her throat, but he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers, a light, wonderful brush that upped her heart rate. Hungry for him, desperate to show him how much she loved him, she clutched him closer and slipped her tongue between his lips. A kiss that started so sweetly changed into one of breathless lust. Nothing mattered—not the passengers, the impropriety, nor the whole damn world.
    Rob Edwards was here, in her arms, and anything else paled to insignificance.
    His strangled groan filled her mouth, and her emotional whimper joined it. She cupped his shoulder blades, kneaded them, then pulled her mouth away to look at him, making sure he was really there. Rob trailed his fingertips down her cheek, thumbed away her tears, his other hand on the small of her back, the pressure of it possessive.
    “It’s like I’ve always known you,” he said, his eyes moist.
    Carrie nodded, unable to speak, unable to believe their union was so perfect, how she’d dreamed it would be. She laughed, the sound more like a sob, and touched her forehead to his. He rubbed his nose against hers, and she wished they were away from this place, somewhere more private.
    “Did you book the room?” he asked, his mint-scented breath warm as it fanned her mouth.
    She nodded, smiled, and a surge of love swirled from her toes, snatching her breath and stopping her heart for two beats.
    “I could stare at you forever,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.”
    Carrie blushed, unused to such words being spoken out loud. Oh, he’d said them many times in emails and on IM, rendering her to mush, but to actually hear them? She wanted to cry so much it hurt her throat. Instinct guided her to rest her cheek against his chest, hug him to her in case this was another one of her dreams. How could she be this lucky? This…secure?
    His heartbeat pounded in her ear, the steady, rapid thud indicating he felt the same as her. He embraced her, his hold so precious, so wonderful she scrunched her eyes closed to stop the tears falling.