Free Games of Zeus 02- Silent Echoes by Aimee Laine

against the back, hair blowing in the wind, wrinkled clothes on a tight frame. A small grin built, the softness of it spreading beauty to her face.
    Ian wanted to run a hand along her cheek, to touch, feel and savor the electricity that had coursed through. More than that even, he burned with a desire to lay his hands along the nape of her neck, rub the pad of his finger against the scar at the base of her skull and pull her in for a kiss.
    Why would I think she has a scar there?
    He blew out the urge to run and sauntered his way toward Taylor until he reached her toes. “No time like the present.” He only had to tilt a few degrees to stare right down into her eyes. Despite the grit and torment sleeping in a jail must have caused, her face reflected a beauty that had been burned into his retinas long ago. Taylor’s scent—a combination of earthiness, flowers and pure female—drugged him into a stupor worse than his binge at Rocky’s.
    He followed the motion of her lashes as she closed her lids, finding the small freckle he expected to show up at the edge, and again as she opened them. The simple act, involuntary, but so—her. A dip to her lips gave him a clear picture of what he wanted to savor—had desired for months—yet feared for reasons unknown.
    One hand slid to her waist. He pulled her body against his.
    Now or never.
    Her palms met his chest but didn’t push away.
    Their breaths stopped.
    Lips touched.
    The world ceased to exist.
    Ian tilted. Taylor shifted.
    His tongue darted, teasing and coaxing her to open.
    She did.
    A symphony of emotion intertwined around the two of them as if their life together started and stopped yet continued across the boundaries of time. He pushed the kiss deeper, reveling in a moment of ecstasy.
    Clapping and whistling broke their private reverie. Ian righted himself only to find gawkers in the group of college students. Some snapped photos, others smiled and clapped as if they’d just witnessed two lovers reunited sixty years after their separation.
    A hero and his soul mate.
    The prince and rescued princess.
    “Ian?” Taylor asked.
    Tangled emotions forced themselves to the surface. “Yeah?” he asked.
    She didn’t tear her gaze away as he expected, but held tight, thoughts seeming to formulate in her eyes.
    By no means a patient man, Ian broke their temporary muteness. “When you touched my arm at Tripp’s wedding, did you … feel something?”
    He had to know. The question had weighed on him since that moment.
    Taylor’s big blue eyes blinked once, though her expression remained calm and serene—except for the bags etching deep lines beneath them. After what seemed an interminable amount of time, she said, “Yes.”
    A simple statement—one tiny answer—grounded him. “What was it?”
    “I don’t know.” Her hair bounced with an indiscernible head movement.
    “A hot or cold sensation?”
    “Wha—”
    “Shock?”
    A head shake. “Why—”
    “Pinch?”
    A chuckle came with her, “No. Why are you asking this?”
    Ian blew out a breath. “Familiarity? Did it feel like a touch you’d always known? Something deep inside you’d recognize if you were married to someone for fifty years? Like knowing where someone’s freckles are or what the skin feels like where there is an old scratch.”
    “Mayb—”
    Ian shook his head. “Why do I feel this connection? It’s getting stronger, too, the more I’m around you. Why, if you don’t—”
    “When the five o’clock shadow hits your face, and I run the back of my hand over it, there’s a little notch in the lower right part of your jaw that dips more when you’re a little scruffy.” Taylor lifted her chin as if to challenge him to disagree.
    His eyes widened. “Son of a bitch, you do feel it.” He squeezed where his hands wrapped around her arms, wishing he could pound a punching bag, but at the same time wanting to bring her even closer. “I’ve spent the last six bass-ackward months trying to