Just The Way You Are(70)

She didn't walk, she ran into his embrace, pressing her face against his wet slicker, not caring that they were both soaking wet. She just threw her arms around his neck and held on tight. Sam reassured her with a constant stream of words that barely registered, but the soothing tone of his voice slowly eased her tension.

"I'm sorry," she said after a few minutes. She tried to pull away from Sam but he wouldn't let her go. "I'm okay now," she told him.

"I'm not," he muttered.

She looked up at him and saw his eyes gleaming in the shadowy light. He pulled away from her and ripped apart the snaps of his slicker, taking it off and tossing it onto the floor.

"Come back here," he said.

She stared at him uncertainly, suddenly realizing the danger was no longer in the storm but in him, in her.#p#分页标题#e#

He cut the distance between them when she didn't move and put his hands on her hips in a way that reminded her of the way he held her when they made love, so she could feel him, all of him.

She could almost feel him now, the anticipation of knowing what could come, how she could feel, overwhelming her senses. And when he took one hand off her hip to unzip her jacket, to toss it on top of his, all she could think of was how close their jackets were and how close they could be.

He was warmer now, she thought, as she moved into his arms with a sweet familiarity. His shirt was soft against her cheek, and she could hear his heart beating, strong and fast. She breathed in and out, hoping for calm, for sanity, but her breath brought in his scent, his appeal, and with each molecule of air she wanted him more.

"We—we can't," she forced herself to say, but she once again tightened her grip on his neck as the thunder rattled the display cases. "You're taking advantage, Sam. I wouldn't be hugging you like this if it weren't for the storm."

"I know. It's the storm that's holding us together. It's not you—or me."

Lightning lit up the store like the flash of a camera. For a minute Alli almost thought Jimmy had once again caught her on film. But the light faded, and when Sam turned off his flashlight they were surrounded by darkness.

She wanted to let him go. She tried to let him go, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own, her fingers playing with the curls of hair at the back of his neck.

"Megan—" She tried again to distract him.

"Is fine. I don't want to drive in this. Do you?"

"No." She paused. "You can really stop holding me now."

"You can stop holding me, too."

She was going to do just that when she felt Sam's lips touch her hair and her heart did a somersault at the phantom, feathery kiss. Her pulse began to race even as she told herself she didn't want this. She couldn't want this. But when Sam tucked a kiss into the curve of her neck, she shivered in anticipation, her body a traitor to her thoughts.

"You still have that couch in your office," Sam murmured.

"We're not going into my office," she said automatically.

"It will be safer away from the windows."

She wasn't afraid of the glass breaking. She wasn't even afraid of the storm anymore. She was afraid of herself, terrified of what she wanted to happen next.

Sam moved her backward as if they were in a dance and he was steering her around a ballroom. Only they weren't waltzing past other couples, they were moving in between the aisles of her shop. Her shop, she tried to remind herself, her business, her new focus. She'd poured so much energy into her marriage, and it had all been a waste of time. Now it was going into the shop.

But as Sam turned her around, as he shuffled them toward the office door, all she could think about was the man who was holding her, whose hands and eyes and lips promised her the world. The next thing she knew they were in the office, and the couch was hitting her in the back of her legs.

Sam stood in front of her, holding her hips against his, and she could feel his body hardening just as hers was beginning to soften. He swayed against her. She moved with him, her thighs pressing against his, her breasts tingling from contact with his chest, her lips seeking his mouth as he sought hers.

How she loved the way he ran his hands through her hair, trapping her head with his fingers so he could kiss her the way he wanted to, the way she wanted him to. It was a hot, carnal kiss between two people who knew each other inside and out.

Their bodies moved in perfect accord, as if to music playing somewhere in their heads, in their dreams, in their memories. They had made love a thousand times, but while tonight felt the same, it also felt different, as if they'd never been together, as if they didn't know each other's bodies by heart. Maybe it was the intense darkness, the shadows that kept reality safely hidden away. Maybe it was the storm, the drumming rain on the ceiling that made their other life seem so very far away. Maybe it was that she wanted one last time with him.#p#分页标题#e#