Page 51 of Prime Time

or his spiritual illness. It had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with love. And when it was over, she was grateful for the chance to have loved him unconditionally, giving all, receiving nothing.

Not speaking, not moving, she held him fast while he rested, his head a beloved burden on her shoulder. She listened to each breath, cherishing the sound. His heartbeats were absorbed by her breasts, and she gloried in that steady throbbing.

He raised his head. When he saw the tears rolling from the corners of her golden eyes into her hair, he was filled with remorse. “God, Andy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. He left her, and the awkward attempts he made to restore her clothing were endearing. He cradled her head against his chest and stroked back her hair.

“I don’t know what happened to me. I didn’t even kiss you before … What a bastard I am. I made you cry. You must feel ravished. Raped. God, I’m so sorry,” he choked out.

She lifted her head and held his face between her hands. “Stop this. Now. I’m crying because I’m glad you needed me.”

“I did. I do. I can’t imagine that after the last two days this would be what I need, what I want.”

Her smile was tender as she smoothed the black brows. “You’ve been obsessed with the thought of death. I think you needed to know you were still alive. To celebrate life.”

His eyes were like glowing coals, gray at the edges but smoldering with fire in their centers. “Is it even possible, that with all that’s happened between us, the animosity, the anger, the mistrust, that I’ve fallen in love with you, Andy Malone?”

“I don’t know. Is it? I hope so. Because I love you very much, Lyon.”

“Andy.” Her name was a reverent whisper as his thumbs caressed her lips. Then he chuckled softly. “Andy. I never thought I’d love someone named Andy. Much less think I was going to die if I didn’t kiss this Andy.”

Then his mouth was open and moving over hers. He made up for the swiftness, the near violence of what had happened moments ago with the gentle leisure of this kiss.

His tongue tasted her lips, licking them softly with its tip. He kissed the corners of her mouth until they quivered with the need to open to him. He pressed inside and swept her mouth. Palate, teeth, the inside of her lips knew the marauding of his tongue. It rubbed against hers and coaxed it into his mouth. The pressure found there was so sweet, she clung to him weakly.

When he took pity and gradually eased away, they both breathed deeply of the essence of the other. He continued his adoration by nibbling her throat, the beginning of a journey the final destination of which was her ear.

“When did you learn to kiss like that?” she asked on a soft moan as his teeth caught her earlobe.

“Just now. Kissing hasn’t ever seemed that important until now.”

“And it’s important now?”

“Very.”

“Why?”

“So you’ll know how much you’re loved.”

He kissed her again. This time his mouth was still, taking possession of hers, plunging his tongue deeply and holding it there. His arms held her imprisoned against him, and she felt the stirrings in his loins that were answered in her own.

“Can you forgive me my former selfish insensitivity and come upstairs with me?”

She nodded and they vacated the sofa. Quietly they gathered up discarded clothing, straightened what they were still wearing, and left the office.

It was nighttime, the sun having set long ago, for it was dark out. They paused to listen, but could hear no noise coming from the kitchen or Gracie’s room beyond.

“Are you hungry?” he asked politely, and Andy’s smile was wide.

“What would you do if I said yes?” she teased.

“Swallow real hard and try to keep from crying.”

She took his hand and led him up the stairs. She thought he would take her into his room, but at the door of the bedroom she had occupied he stopped.

“Let’s go in here.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

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