Free Find Wonder In All Things by Karen M. Cox Page B

inside his chest. Lying down beside her, he drew one hand along her inner thigh and her eyes slid shut, releasing him from her gaze and allowing him a respite so he could concentrate on the rest of her. As his fingers slipped between her legs, she started to cry out and self-consciously covered her mouth with her hand.
    “Yell all you want, darling,” he murmured. “No one can hear you but me.”
    His touch coaxed her further into delirium, and he whispered roughly, “Let it go, Laurel. It’s all right, just let go.”
    She broke then, her arms reaching above her head, grasping the blanket in her fingers — arching and sighing and writhing in movements so erotic, he had to drop his head and close his eyes to keep from losing control of himself. He felt as if he’d run ten miles, and he gulped the warm, humid, night air as if he were drowning. He kissed her softly and whispered sweet nothings to her, and while she recovered, he slipped a condom out of his wallet and doffed his button-fly Levi’s.
    He looked up to find her watching him, interest and trepidation warring on her features.
    “Still afraid?”
    Her eyes darted up to his face. “No,” she said quickly, and then she let out a nervous throaty laugh. “I mean, not much.”
    He lay down, facing her and held her close. She kissed him on the mouth in acquiescence, and he pulled her on top of him.
    “What — ?”
    “I know what you want, remember? Trust me.”
    “Famous last words.”
    He smiled at her bravado. “Mountain Laurel, you’re one in a million.” His gaze narrowed in on her. “Damn, this is going to feel so good.” He guided her with his hands, pausing when she gasped with a quick intake of air. “Take your time. You know what to do.” He moved her hips in a barely perceptible rhythm, which she slowly began to take over. His eyes closed, and he let himself sink into the warm, urgent cadence, shuddering as he felt his tenuous control slipping away. Somewhere in the middle of it, he realized she was losing her restraint too, and he wanted to shout in primal triumph as the world exploded in a white-hot burst of light. While the resulting embers faded and floated away, he felt a tear slide from the outer corner of his eye. He brought his hands up under the red curtain of her hair to hold her forehead against his. His voice came out low, smooth and sure. “I will always love you, Laurel Elliot. Always.”

Chapter 7
    Christmas Day
    Fat snowflakes flew across the windshield of James’s Toyota Corolla as he snaked along the interstate curves leading to the mountains. His cheeks were tight and drawn from where he’d swiped away tears, and his jaw hurt from clenching it for the last hundred miles. He was almost there — almost to the closest thing he had to a home now. And it wasn’t a place, although the place was part of it. His home was now a person — a person with flaming red hair, dark blue eyes, and a smile that made all his troubles fade and his worries disappear. Laurel.
    He only hoped she would be there. They had been planning this interlude since October. Her weekly letters kept him abreast of the progress on her cabin, and the last one said the place was done — not fancy — but livable, and she was planning to spend her Christmas break there. She asked him to join her, and he said yes, but the plans were for him to arrive day after next. There was no phone — no way to reach her to say he was coming early.
    He still had a key to the Pendletons’ boat in case her place wasn’t an option, but he really hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. The boat would provide shelter, but shelter wasn’t what he was looking for. He wanted comfort. He wanted Laurel.
    The car in front of him fishtailed in the snow, reminding him to pay attention to the rapidly deteriorating road conditions. According to the radio, the worst of the storm wouldn’t hit until sometime around midnight, but he knew the snow would probably be heavier in the