She wanted to ask him to pull the car over because she was about to lose her lunch. Not that she had eaten anything. She couldn't. Sandy closed her eyes and leaned back against the passenger seat of her station wagon. While her three kids had inhaled burgers and fries, she'd picked at a small salad. Even Kyle had gotten his lunch down with no trouble at all. Damn him!
She opened one eye and glanced at him. He was driving through the streets of Glenwood, heading back to her house. He looked calm, unconcerned. He was even humming with the radio! Didn't he know what was going to happen? Did he realize what they'd just done? Her three children were on a bus heading to the Glenwood city camp where they would spend the next four days and three nights. Nights he had implied the two of them would be spending together. Alone. Making love.
So why wasn't he nervous? Were his palms sweating and his stomach heaving and his body alternately hot and cold?
No, not Kyle. He was calm and relaxed. As if he had nothing to worry about. As if they weren't going to do it.
Her eyes shot open and she sat up straight in the seat. Maybe that was it, she thought grimly. He'd changed his mind. He didn't want to do "it" with her anymore. Or he'd never wanted to. She'd misunderstood everything. He'd kissed her before because… because…
"Stop fidgeting," Kyle said. "We've got plenty of time."
She stopped breathing. "Time?" she squeaked.
At the next stoplight, he glanced at her. Something warm and sexy glowed in his dark brown eyes. He grinned at her. "I was going to give you until tonight to let you have your way with me, then I figured why waste a perfectly good afternoon. So don't worry, darlin', we've got four days for loving."
She sucked in a breath and coughed. "Great."
So much for being Sensible Sandy. So much for being in control and acting dignified and sophisticated. She felt as prepared as a virgin facing a sacrificial altar. Maybe she could tell him she'd changed her mind. Maybe she should tell him that she wasn't his type. After all, she was just a mom with three kids. Hardly the sultry vixen he must be used to. She clutched her belly as it rolled one more time.
He turned into the driveway. She thought about jumping out of the car, but she figured she would only maim herself, and the thought of trying to make love with skinned knees was just too depressing.
Instead of continuing toward her place, Kyle turned the station wagon into his driveway and parked in front of the garage. He turned off the engine, then got out of the car and walked around to her side. It was her moment to bolt. She didn't. Sandy sat there like a rabbit caught in the hypnotic stare of a snake. She could do nothing to escape. It was inevitable. She might as well make the best of the situation.
He opened her door and held out his hand. She hesitated before placing her palm on his. Their gazes locked. Instantly, something hot and alive crackled between them. The rolling of her stomach quieted as anticipation took its place. Her body still trembled, but this time from need, not nerves.
"Stop thinking about it," he told her. "It'll be fine." He pulled her to her feet and slammed the car door shut behind her, then tugged her along to his back door.
"I'm not nervous," she lied.
But once she was standing in his living room and he released her hand, all her doubts crashed in on her. It was as if Kyle's touch kept her insecurities at bay, but as soon as she was by herself, she began to question everything.
"You want some champagne?" he asked as he headed for the kitchen.
Champagne? In the middle of the afternoon? "Ah, sure." Oh, God, she was out of her element. She should have known. She should have never agreed to this.
She crossed the room toward the stone fireplace. There were several photos on the mantel. Kyle with his brothers, Travis and his family, Craig and his kids. Happy pictures. No women who weren't related. That was something.
There was a slight popping sound as the cork was released. Sandy flinched. She continued to stare at the photos as if her life depended on memorizing them.
She sensed the moment he entered the room. He didn't make any noise, or say anything, but she knew he was there. Behind her. Waiting.
"There's something you should know," she said, touching her finger to one of the wooden frames. She smiled at the picture of Kyle graduating from the police academy. How handsome and strong he looked in his uniform. "I've only ever done it, you know, the boring way."
"Okay."
"I mean, there was this one guy in college, but it was only a couple of times, and frankly I didn't like it very much. It was better with Thomas. At least I figured out what all the fuss was about. Sort of." She could feel herself blushing, but she had to get it out. It was only fair. Otherwise, he would be disappointed. She wanted him to know up front. So if he didn't want to anymore, she would know why.
"I know that you've been with lots of women," she continued. "I'm not sure I could, um, keep up. Or do anything strange. I'm not very adventurous. And I've had three children. I've got stretch marks." She thought about telling him that her breasts were a little saggy, too, but didn't think he would want to know that in advance. Maybe he wouldn't notice. If she was on her back when she took off her bra, it would be hard to tell, wouldn't it?
She cleared her throat. "So I'm sure you're thinking this is a bad idea. I wouldn't blame you. Really."
She heard a clinking sound. She thought he might be putting the champagne glasses on the coffee table, but she didn't want to turn around and see.
"I thought you were beautiful the first time I saw you and I still think that," Kyle murmured.
From the sound of his voice and faint puff of breath on her cheek, she knew he was standing right behind her. "But I'm not like them," she said, staring at the rocks that stretched to the ceiling. She touched their rough surface.
"Like who?"
"Those other women that you've been with. I don't know what you expect of me."
He put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to turn. She wanted to close her eyes, but she knew that was too cowardly. She would just have to face him and get it over with. She swallowed hard, then looked at him.
His face was taut with an emotion she could only describe as need. The corners of his mouth tilted up slightly, but his eyes burned with fire. He was close enough to touch, close enough for her to see the smooth line of his jaw, close enough for her to wonder if he'd shaved just before leaving with her to drop the kids off for camp. The thought pleased her.
He kept his hand on her shoulder. "What do you expect of me?" he asked.
"Huh? I don't expect anything." Well, except maybe that it was going to be wonderful between them.
He reached up and pulled the headband from her hair, then slipped his fingers through the loose strands. "I don't have any secret tricks. I won't do anything you haven't done before. There aren't going to be any surprises."
Ha, she thought grimly. He hadn't seen her naked.
He startled her by frowning. "No doubts, Sandy. They're not allowed. I've been waiting a long time for this moment."
She searched his eyes. "This isn't just about your crush, is it?"
"Of course it is. It's also about how I feel about you now, today, with both of us adults. I can't forget the past, but that's not all it's about." He smiled slightly. "Why can't you believe you turn me on?"
She felt the color flaring again on her cheeks. "I'm not the type who inspires grand passion."
He grabbed her hand and brought it to the fly of his jeans. She could feel the hard length pressing against her. "Who do you think inspired this?" he asked.
She squeezed him gently. Maybe it was real, she thought to herself. Maybe he did think she was attractive and maybe he really did want to make love with her. Maybe it was going to be all right. He certainly wasn't lying about his desire. It was hard to fake that large an arousal.
She rubbed her palm up and down the length of him. She swayed toward him, suddenly eager to find out how he would feel inside of her.
He groaned, then pulled her hand away. "I have two things to say."
She could feel the desire lapping at her body. It was faint at first, the slightest of tugs, but as she stood in front of him, staring at his perfect body, it grew until it was a riptide threatening to pull her under.
"Are you listening to me?" he asked.
"Uh-huh." Why was he talking so much?
"First, I haven't been with lots of women. Some. A few. In this day and age, it would be crazy to be indiscriminate. Second, I'm using protection."
She blinked. The desire faded in the reality of his pragmatic statement. "Protection?" Oh, God, she'd forgotten. After Nichole had been born, Thomas had taken care of birth control permanently. She hadn't had to think about it anymore. But Kyle wasn't Thomas and this was the nineties. "Protection?"
"You just said that."
She turned from him and started for the door. "I can't do this."
She got all the way to the entrance to the kitchen before she realized he wasn't going to stop her. She paused and glanced back at him. He was still standing where she'd left him, in front of the fireplace. Her gaze lowered to his bare feet. While he'd been pouring the champagne, he must have also taken off his cowboy boots. She'd never thought of a man's feet as sexy before, but she liked Kyle's. They were broad and strong. Like him.
On the coffee table, bubbles floated to the surface of the tulip-shaped glasses. She looked at him. He was waiting. Patiently. It was her decision.
"You'd let me walk out?" she asked.
"If that's what you want. No being swept away this time, Sandy. No excuses. If you want to make love with me, stay. If you're not sure, you should go." With that, he picked up the two glasses and carried them into the bedroom.
At least she assumed it was the bedroom. She'd never explored his house before. She stood there in silence, wondering when she'd become such a wimp. This wasn't a difficult decision. Of course she wanted Kyle. All that was holding her back were her own insecurities. And a faint voice that whispered she would be in big trouble if she was foolish enough to fall for him.
She was a grown woman. In all her thirty-two years, she'd never reacted to a man the way she reacted to him. No one had ever left her breathless before. She'd spent her whole life playing it safe, doing the right thing, the expected thing. For once, she'd promised herself to walk on the wild side. She raised her chin slightly and started after him.
There was a short hallway. On one side was an open door leading to a bathroom. On the other, a second door stood open. From where she was standing, she could see a dresser and the foot of a brass bed. Light filtered in through open-weave drapes of blue and rust. She stepped into the room.
It was a man's room. Large pieces of wooden furniture lined the wall. A dresser, a highboy and two nightstands. An overstuffed blue chair filled one corner. A rust-colored comforter had been pulled back, exposing cream-colored sheets. Kyle sat on one side of the king-size bed. He'd removed his shirt. Sunlight caught the smooth skin of his bare shoulders and highlighted the hair on his chest. Sandy's fingers curled into her palms.
He reached for the two glasses he'd left on the night-stand and handed her one. She crossed the room and took it from him. He didn't want her swept away. He wanted her aware of everything that was going on. Her breath caught in her throat. That wasn't going to be difficult. No way she could think about anything else.
She took a sip of the cool liquid. Bubbles tickled her nose and the back of her throat. She'd forgotten how much she liked champagne. He drank also. She watched his throat as he swallowed. The air in the room heated, as if someone had turned on the furnace. Or maybe it was just being so close to him.
Her gaze traveled over his bare chest. She wanted to touch him, taste him. She wanted to feel him next to her without the encumbrances of clothing, or worrying about privacy or interruptions. Her breathing increased.
Kyle took the glass from her and set it down next to his. Before she could figure out what he was going to do, he'd already reached for the hem of her T-shirt and was gently tugging the garment over her head. Thank goodness she'd had the foresight to put on her best underwear. Her bra and panties matched, probably for the first time in her life. They were both a pale pink with a print of roses woven into the fabric. The bra gave her a little extra support and made her looked chesty. She hoped Kyle appreciated her silhouette. She hadn't had dessert since she'd decided to send the children to camp and then indulge with Kyle. She'd been doing sit-ups, but doubted two weeks of diligence made up for years of neglect.
With practiced ease, without even turning her around or glancing behind her, he reached for the button and zipper of her denim skirt and unfastened them. A quick tug had that garment pooling around her feet.
"You've done this before," she said without thinking.
He grinned at her. "Once or twice."
Then he reached for her bra. She wanted to stop him. Her breasts weren't as perky as they had been when he'd fantasized about them sixteen years ago. If he even had fantasized about them. Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Wouldn't you rather I was lying down?" she asked.
He raised his eyebrows.
She realized what she'd said and wanted to die. Right now. If the floor would just open up and swallow her. But it didn't. "What I meant was…"
He waited, watching her, grinning that damn knowing smile of his.
"Fine," she said through gritted teeth and reached for the back fastener. "I'll just take it off. But don't say I didn't warn you." She unhooked the bra, slid it off her arms, and glared at him. Then she bent over and jerked her panties down to her ankles, then stepped out of them.
"Are you happy?" she asked. "Look." She brushed her palm against her belly. There were faint lines from her pregnancies. "I'm marked, wrinkled-" She pointed to her breasts. "Definitely past perky. I could probably stand to lose ten pounds."
This was awful. The most embarrassing moment of her life. "I'm going home now," she said and started for the door.
"Naked?" Kyle asked.
She reached the doorway and stopped. "You're supposed to stop me. You're supposed to lie and say all those things don't matter, that I'm really the most beautiful woman you've ever seen."
As if her humiliation wasn't complete, she could feel tears burning in her eyes. She never cried. She refused to start now. About this.
"Are you done?" he asked.
She sniffed. "I think so."
"Good."
She shrieked as he came up behind her and lifted her in his arms. She supposed most women reacted well to being carried, however she didn't like the feeling of being up in the air. She clung to Kyle's neck until she was probably choking the poor man, and kicked her feet as if that would help propel them the short distance to the bed.
He knelt on the mattress and lowered her. When her head touched the pillow, he stretched out beside her. "What happened to Sensible Sandy?" he asked.
"I think she got packed with the kids' stuff by accident."
"I like this Sandy, too."
"Really?" Her mouth twisted. "You're just saying that because you're afraid I'm going to cry."
"Are you?"
His dark eyes promised her the world, yet she was afraid. "Maybe."
"Only tears of joy," he said quietly and reached for the champagne.
She expected him to take a sip, or offer her one. Instead, he held the glass over her midsection and tipped it until a stream of bubbly liquid poured onto her belly. The shock of cold made her jump.
"What are you doing?" she asked. "It's wet."
He grinned.
Kyle rose to his knees, then bent over her. He licked at the champagne. She stared at him in disbelief, then collapsed back on the pillows. It was a contrast of temperatures and textures. The bubbles tickled, his mouth was smooth. The champagne cooled her skin, his tongue heated her to melting. He drank the liquid from her belly, licking the last drops from around her hipbones, then he moved between her knees and stared down at her.
"You still doubt," he said, then held out his hands. She glanced at his fingers, then looked closer. They trembled.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because it's you. It's always been you."
The beauty of his face made her heart beat faster. He was male to her female, experienced to her awkwardness, and she wanted him more than she wanted to draw her next breath. For some reason she would never understand, he also wanted her. He thought she was special. Perhaps it was the past, or some combination of chemistry. Perhaps it was just dumb luck. Whatever the reason, she, an ordinary woman with nothing special to set her apart from the thousands of other ordinary women in this world, had worked magic on him. She made him tremble. Saggy breasts and stretch marks, three kids and a slight need to organize the world. She was done trying to explain it away. If he wanted her that much, far be it from her to deny him.
She opened her arms and spoke his name.
She was all he'd dreamed she would be, Kyle thought as he lowered himself to kiss her. She tasted of champagne and promises. She was hot and willing, tentative and bold, all things. She was his world.
He angled his mouth and sought entrance to hers. She parted for him. When his tongue touched hers, he felt the jolt clear down to his groin. His arousal surged painfully against the fly of his jeans. He would keep them on until the very end. He'd been ready since the moment she'd agreed to send her kids to camp. He'd been anticipating this moment since he'd woken up that morning. He had a bad feeling that if he took his jeans off, he would be compelled to plunge inside of her and explode like an adolescent. He wanted more than that for her. He wanted to be perfect.
To that end, he kissed her slowly. He touched her shoulders and her arms, rubbing his palms up and down on her smooth skin. She was softer than he'd imagined any woman could be. Her curves yielded to him.
He kissed her mouth, then her jaw and her ear. Her hands clutched at his back. He liked the way she held on to him as if she feared he would go away. If only she knew the truth. He had no other world save her.
After licking her earlobe and making her giggle and squirm beneath him, he trailed his mouth down her neck to her chest. Her breathing increased. Her body tightened in anticipation. He moved his hands from her arms to her waist, then slipped them higher, up her rib cage to her breasts.
She arched into his touch. Her hips came up off the bed and her fingers dug into his back. He raised his head slightly so he could see what he was doing.
His long tanned fingers contrasted with her pale skin. Her nipples were dark pink and already hard. He cupped her breasts, learning their shape and texture. They moved in his hands, soft and supple. She writhed beneath him, her legs tangling with his, her hips rising to meet him and taunt him with a brief caress. Around and around, he circled, close to the taut peaks, but not touching. Then he released her and reached for the champagne.
Her eyes opened and she watched him take a sip. Her lips parted. He bent down and took her right nipple in his mouth. She gasped. The liquid had cooled his skin slightly. He suckled her, loving the taste of her. She was sweeter than the champagne, more intoxicating.
He repeated the procedure, this time filling his mouth with the liquid and then letting the bubbles explode against her nipples. She called his name. Her arms fell to her sides and she clawed at the sheet. He traced a trail of dampness to her belly button, then back to her breasts. He loved her there, over and over, until her breath came in pants and her hips were permanently plastered against him.
He taunted them both by moving back and forth against her center. Several times he had to stop because he was about to explode. He could feel the pressure building, so he backed off.
He bathed her thighs in champagne, then licked her clean. He dipped her fingers into the slender glass and suckled them. Her eyes glazed over, her head tossed from side to side. At last, when perspiration coated her body and she had drawn her knees back to expose her most secret place to him, he reached between them and touched her there.
Just once. Very lightly. The tip of his index finger found her center and rubbed it. Then again. She gasped. Her eyes opened, but she couldn't seem to focus.
"What are you doing?" she asked weakly.
"Trying to drive you crazy. How am I doing?"
She smiled. "Great. Except you lied to me."
"When?"
"You said it wasn't going to be different." She blinked and looked at him. "It is. It's wonderful. Why are you being so good to me?"
Because you mean everything to me. Only he didn't say that. Instead, he touched her again, in her most feminine place, and she forgot the question. He touched her over and over until she was begging him for release. He bent over her and kissed her breasts, even as his fingers moved faster and faster, even as her hips began to rotate in the age-old rhythm of desire.
He shifted until he was lying next to her, supporting his head with one hand. He stared at her face, at the way her breasts moved, at the faint lines on her belly. Every inch of her was precious to him.
His forearm was against her thigh and he could feel her muscles tensing as she neared her release. He moved faster.
Her lips parted. A flush started at her breasts and climbed toward her face. He glanced at the place he touched her. His fingers slipped back and forth, parting the light brown curls. Her knees drew back toward her chest and he could see all of her. His throat tightened as he stared at her beauty, at the tiny place that brought her pleasure, at the dampness that would soon welcome him home. He felt the moment when her muscles locked and heard her stop breathing. He continued his quick, light ministrations.
Then she exhaled his name. Beneath his forearm her legs trembled and jerked slightly. Her hands opened and closed against the sheets. He glanced at her face and watched her try to catch her breath. The flush had climbed to her hairline, her nipples were erect. Satisfaction poured through him, as if the pleasure had been solely his. He wished they could do it again and again until he learned everything about her. He wanted to make love to her until she was too weak to walk or even stand.
Instead, he drew her close to him. He held her tightly in his arms as she continued to shake. He released her long enough to brush away the tears that trickled down her temples and kiss the questions from her lips.
"It's never been like that," she said, staring up at him.
The gladness filling him made it impossible to speak.
After a few minutes, she pushed him away. "Take your clothes off," she demanded. "I want to see you."
He grinned and stood up. He was shaking so hard, he had trouble with the buttons on his fly, but he got them undone and pushed the jeans and his briefs down in one quick movement. Sandy knelt on the bed in front of him, staring at his arousal.
He wanted her to lie down or move back or something, but she just knelt there staring. It was going to be a problem in about two minutes, he thought. Already the pressure was uncomfortable. Soon it would be uncontrollable.
"Sandy, I can't wait much longer," he said. "I hate to be a jerk, but you've had me like this since the day you arrived and a cold shower can only do so much."
She raised her gaze to his. "Really? I turn you on that much?"
"You tell me."
"Can I touch you?" she asked, reaching toward him.
"No!" He stepped back. "That wouldn't be a good idea. Not unless you want me to ah-"
She raised her eyebrows. "As fast as that? Gee, I'm surprised. I would have thought you'd be more controlled." She scooted back on the bed.
"I have damn good control," he growled, bending down and pulling a condom out of his jeans' pocket. "You make me sound like some horny kid. It's not like that. It's just this situation has been difficult from the beginning."
"I understand," she said kindly. "You don't have to explain it to me."
"Dammit, woman."
She giggled. "I'm teasing. Come on, let's take care of your little problem."
"You said it was big," he grumbled as he opened the package and started to slide on the condom. He was still shaking, so it wasn't an elegant procedure, but when it was finally fitted in place, he moved to the bed.
Sandy was grinning up at him. She moved to the far side and relaxed back against the pillows. Her hair was loose around her face, her body naked to his gaze, her thighs parted in welcome.
"You're the most incredible woman I've ever known," he said, moving across the bed and kneeling between her legs. "I swear I'll make it up to you."
Her pupils dilated. "You already did. This is just for you."
She reached down and touched him. He about exploded right then and there, but managed to salvage a little control, just enough to press into her. Heat surrounded him as she stretched to accommodate him. She wiggled her hips and he almost lost it again.
"This is going to take about one second," he said, wishing he could do better.
"I don't mind." She touched his face, then his chest. "I wish I could make you understand how terrific it makes me feel to know that you're losing control with me." She tightened her muscles around him. "The faster, the better, as far as I'm concerned. Impress me later."
He took her at her word. He pressed in until she'd taken all of him and withdrew slowly. Her muscles clenched harder as if begging him to stay. He plunged in a second time, then a third. On the fourth time, she drew her knees back and grasped his buttocks. She pulled him closer until he was buried inside her, deeper than he'd thought possible. She did something incredible, tightening even more and he crashed into paradise.
The sudden explosion shocked him. His muscles turned rock-hard, then released. He tried to pull back and plunge in again, but he couldn't move. He could only feel. She caressed him from the inside, her body rippling around him, her hands holding him against her, her breasts brushing his chest. He thought he might have said her name, he was pretty sure he got loud, which was kind of embarrassing.
When the pleasure had faded to a memory and his body was limp with relief, he held her close and inhaled her scent. It had been better than he'd hoped for. Better than anything he'd done before. It wasn't just about passion, though. There was a tenderness, a sense of joining between them that scared him to death. Not because she might trap him into staying. Hell, he wanted to stay. What terrified him was the fear that as much as he wanted to be there for her, he didn't know if he had what it took to last through the long haul.
"I'm convinced," Sandy said as she struggled to catch her breath.
"You're sure?" he asked.
"Positive." She stretched her arms over her head and sighed with contentment. "I could do more."
He thrust his hips forward. Despite their both having just found their release, the sensation of him moving inside of her sent a slight tingling through her body. Would she ever grow weary of being with him?
A faint light showed through the drapes at the window. The pleasantly tired aching of her body told her it was dawn. For the past four days, they'd done little but make love, eat and sleep.
Kyle had arranged for time off while the kids were at camp. Every afternoon, Sandy returned to her house to pick up the mail and water the plants. She was having her calls forwarded to his number, so if something happened with the children she would know. But there had only been blessed silence and the quiet isolation most enjoyed by new lovers.
"We've got to get some more sleep," she said, shifting to give him more room next to her.
"Why?" he asked as he settled on the pillow and drew her close. She rested her head on his shoulder.
"They'll be back this afternoon. We need to look rested."
"The fact that they're coming back is all the more reason not to waste time." He leered at her. "Besides, I have my reputation to think of."
She slipped her leg between his. His hand rested on her bare hip. She no longer thought about stretch marks or imperfect flesh. Kyle had seen it all, touched it all, tasted it all. He found pleasure in her body and that was enough for her.
"You've redeemed yourself a hundred times over," she reminded him. "It doesn't matter that you couldn't hold back the first time. Trust me, your control is amazing. I have the weak knees to prove it."
His control was amazing, as was his ability to discover exactly what pleasured her. In four days, he'd learned more about her body, her likes and dislikes, than Thomas had learned in thirteen years of marriage.
He brushed her hair out of her face. "You're good for me."
"I'm glad."
Contentment stole over her. Here in this bedroom, lying on sheets musky with the scent of their bodies, she felt as if everything would be all right between them. The world couldn't hurt them here. All things were possible.
But even as she sighed softly and smiled into his chest, worries stole over her. They couldn't stay in this room forever. In a few hours, she would go pick up her children, and life would return to normal. Then what? She didn't want to think about it, but she didn't know how to avoid the questions. What would happen then? Would they date? Continue as lovers? What did Kyle want of her? What did she want of him?
He exhaled. "I think you're right, kid. I need to sleep for a couple of hours. I'm not as young as I used to be."
She ran her fingers through the dark hair on his chest. "I don't see a single gray hair."
"They'll be there soon enough," he murmured. His body relaxed next to hers and his breathing deepened.
She listened to the rhythmic thudding of his heart. She wanted to hold on to him forever. Sometime in the last four days, she'd started to think of what life would be like with him there all the time and it frightened her. Not just because of who he was, but because of herself. She wasn't the kind of woman who inspired life-changing love in a man. She wasn't sure she was enough to keep Kyle happy. She hadn't been able to hold on to Thomas. No other woman had been able to get Kyle to commit to a long-term relationship. What made her think she could do any better?
Everything she knew about him told her he was wrong for her. Everything he did for her proved that he was the perfect man. Which was she supposed to believe? Which was right? Could she risk it again? What happened when things got rough? What happened when he had to make the hard choices? How could she trust him to think of herself and her children before he thought of himself? Did she even have the right to expect that?
She turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She wanted a partner, not a playmate. Was she wishing for the moon?
Kyle shifted toward her in his sleep, as if he missed her closeness.
"Sandy?" he mumbled, obviously not fully awake.
"I'm right here," she said, reaching over and touching his short dark hair. The individual strands felt like silk through her fingers.
"Love you," he whispered as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek.
Her fingers froze. What had he said? That he loved her? She continued to stroke his head, all the while fighting back her tears. What a way for him to tell her. When she couldn't ask him to repeat it, or if he'd even meant it. She didn't know which would be worse. For the words to be true, or for them to be a lie.