Free On Love's Own Terms by Fran Baker Page B

porcelain edge, turned off the tap and sank down into the bubbly water. “Last one in has to mop up later.”
    Luke lost, but both of them were winners. He shed his clothes, then climbed in and sat facing her. She knelt between his legs, allowing him any liberty he enjoyed.
    With unhurried hands he lathered her breasts, his circular motion creating an exquisite friction that left her tingling from scalp to toes. Then he reached beneath the bubbles and scooped up clear water to rinse away the soap. When he leaned forward and sipped from the streams he’d made on her skin, she arched reflexively against him. “You taste so good,” he murmured. “You always tasted good—all over.”
    His mouth savored each curve, each swell while he bathed her body with love. Suddenly, Luke lifted her higher as his hands moved lower, touching her tenderly. Bonnie splayed her fingers across his shoulders, seeking support. Caught up in a current she couldn’t fight, she drifted with the wet and wonderful sensations rippling through her. He held her tight until her storm was spent, then helped her glide down into the water.
    “My turn,” he rasped.
    “My pleasure.”
    Bonnie soaped him slowly, starting with his wide shoulders. She massaged his muscular, hair-matted chest and stroked the sensitive area under his arms before her hands slipped below the waterline.
    His pure animal groan increased both her boldness and the amount of pressure she applied. She wanted him to scale the same dizzying heights where she’d soared earlier, but he would only let her take him half the way.
    “I won’t go without you,” he decreed hoarsely.
    “I’m ready whenever you are,” she whispered.
    In better control than his ragged breathing implied, Luke grasped her wrists and wrapped her arms around his neck. Raising himself up on his knees, he brought her into full contact with his upper torso before he stood and lifted her out of the tub. They toweled each other dry, pausing occasionally for soft kisses or arousing nibbles that left new beads of moisture.
    Luke carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently on the feather mattress. Then, silently as a dream, he came to bed.
    “The light…” Bonnie pointed to the lamp on the dresser.
    “Leave it on,” he urged. “I want to see if you remember me.”
    She did. Her body anticipated his every intimate request and answered with one of its own. His breath spilled warm as wine on her satiny skin as his kisses rained along her delicate collarbone, over the luscious swell of her rib cage, then to lower pulse points sheltered in secret silken places.
    When she cried his name, Luke shifted his weight and moved up, sliding his muscled legs between her thighs. Bonnie felt his heart beating beneath her hands, and every vestige of mistrust melted in the consuming heat of her need. She arched her hips to meet the thrust of his, then bit back a cry of mingled pleasure and pain. He was instantly aware of why she tensed and ecstatic disbelief flared in his lazy-lidded eyes.
    “Bonnie.” He stopped, searching her flushed face.
    “Love me, Luke,” she pleaded softly.
    “I do,” he vowed, “more than I can tell you.”
    “Show me,” she whispered.
    He did. Luke pillowed her head in the hollow of his shoulder, and Bonnie pressed her lips to that rippling ridge of muscle. Cradling her in the most intimate embrace, he rocked her with the force of his love. Together again, they satisfied a sterling promise untarnished by time.
    Much later, they lay entwined while the night-perfumed air fanned their bodies. They slept spoon-fashion, tucked in a tight curl, and she knew she was truly home. But only for a little while.
    * * * *
    A splintering crash, followed in short order by a good-natured curse and rowdy laughter, woke her.
    Stretching luxuriously, she basked in a morning-after glow so rosy, it shamed the sunshine streaming through the window. She shouldn’t feel this good, this complete, this alive. But she