Page 22 of Unshakable

As Henri’s eyes widenedin surprise, Toula laid her hand on his leg, making herself as clear as she possibly could. “One more good reason to have a quiet house.”

His smile warmed the room and his emotions heated her from the inside out. Isolating herself with her family meant closing off many joyous avenues of life. If Henri understood her and if her reading of him fell on target, he should stay and they could have time together, uninterrupted by beautiful grandchildren, work, or a precocious son.

They rose from the table in unison, and he helped her clean up dinner in companionable silence. Nothing more needed to be said, this had been settled between them.

As she locked the back door and turned out the lights, a delicious tremble came over her, something she hadn’t experienced in years.

Anticipation.

Henri waited in the archway, ever a gentleman, and she took his hand as she passed and led him up the stairs, past the girls’ empty bedrooms, and into her own.

“Nothing fancy,” she apologized.

Henri smiled and drew her close by the waist, as if he saw nothing in the room besides her beauty. Though he seemed polished, his nerves surfaced and melded with hers.

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

Taking a read of his emotions, his desires, she answered, “I wish you would.”

His lips covered hers, sparking a million memories. Of Michael, of Tourelle, of poor Louis. Of all her attempts to be seen and loved for only herself.

For him, she seemed enough, and she felt whole. More than whole as he embraced her, the lines of his body imprinting his admiration of and need for her. As his kiss bloomed into a more intimate connection, he took his time, stroking her skin, unbuttoning her blouse.

Respecting her while wanting her.

She tasted regret in the back of her throat. Henri was the one she should have met all those years ago. He understood his place in the world and nurtured her gift with his overwhelming curiosity. She could have spent her entire life with him and been happy, even if he outlived her by a thousand years.

As he undressed her and allowed her to undress him, she memorized the details of his body, the lean, muscular power he hid behind ordinary clothes, and the way his eyes absorbed and reflected the nearest color.

“What color is my aura now?” she murmured, the first and only time she ever asked him.

He could only answer honestly because she would know if he lied. She wrapped him up because she would always know if his feelings were true. “You have the most beautiful topaz aura when you’re happy, flecks of gold dancing throughout.”

He lowered her onto the bed, taking his time, as if the end of the world would never knock on their door. She smiled in the near darkness, slipped into his inviting embrace, and gave herself over to their combined, repressed need.

Nothing interrupted them tonight. No phone calls from grad school, sullen sons, or logical daughters. Nothing more than a few hours secreted away from the end of the world, their urgency to have these moments the only fuel between them.

Something for themselves. As their bodies locked together, Toula closed her eyes and swam in the mix of her feelings with his in the way only she could.

And just for tonight, because she could, she let go of the reins, and lost herself in the blissful, unending river of Henri’s long life and deep promises.

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