Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [191]
When she was sure they were both about to faint with the intensity of their lovemaking, Roberto pulled away. She noted that his chest was heaving; hers was, too. In the dim light he looked down on her, and she met his look recklessly, unafraid for him to see all the love and longing in her eyes. Her fingers clung to the lapels of his suit as she studied him.
She waited, needing to know he’d experienced the same wonder she had. He closed his eyes momentarily, his breath deep and harsh, as though he needed to separate himself from her, if not physically, then emotionally.
Brynn might have been offended if he hadn’t continued to hold her close and with such tender care. She pressed her head to his chest and listened to the strong, fast-paced beat of his heart.
“I don’t dare touch you again,” he whispered thickly.
“Why not?”
“You make me lose my head.”
“That’s bad?” she asked.
She felt his smile against her cheek. “Not exactly. It would be very easy to take you into that bedroom and make love to you, but I won’t.”
“You won’t?” She couldn’t believe she was asking him this.
“I can’t allow that to happen. Once would never be enough with you. I would want you again and again, and that would only lead to—”
A loud knock sounded against the door, startling them both. Roberto’s eyes met hers in the faded light. “You’re expecting someone?”
She shook her head.
“Who is it?” she asked, struggling to make her voice strong enough to be heard.
Roberto turned on the light switch.
“Emilio,” Roberto’s brother shouted from the other side.
Roberto stiffened with irritation and opened the front door.
“It’s Modesto,” Emilio cried as he stumbled into the apartment. His eyes were wide with panic and fear. The teenager slumped onto the sofa and covered his face with both hands. “Modesto’s been shot.”
Jammed inside Jenny and Michelle’s dinky apartment for the potluck Christmas party, everyone seemed to be talking at once. Trey felt as out of place as a bull moose at one of those fancy dog shows, the ones with dolled-up poodles with painted toenails.
Jenny’s acting friends were certainly a mixed breed. There were everyday people, the kind he would have been hard-pressed to guess were show people, and then there were the others. The others, he noted, tended to be flamboyant attention seekers.
It made for an interesting evening, he would admit that much. Holding his drink, he found a quiet corner and played the role of casual observer.
A couple of times Jenny drifted his way, but she wasn’t able to stay for long. Trey understood. Since she shared hostessing duties with her roommate, she couldn’t very well give him all her attention. Though to be honest, that was what Trey would have preferred.
He sipped the wine, a fruity-flavored one he wouldn’t normally drink, but was all the market had offered. He found himself watching Jenny, mesmerized by her. She was as beautiful as he remembered, more so. Yet he couldn’t look at her without his gut twisting up in a knot. This had been his lot when she was growing up. Loving her from afar.
Next to burying his parents, the most difficult thing Trey had ever done was to let Jenny Lancaster leave Custer, Montana, without telling her how much he loved her. He hadn’t felt particularly self-sacrificing and noble at the time. He didn’t feel that way now. It was just that he had some decisions to make, damned important ones, and they involved Jenny.
He loved her, and although he’d tried to forget her in the last three years, he couldn’t. Countless times he’d attempted to convince himself to look for greener pastures.
It hadn’t worked.
He’d spent the better part of ten years in love with Jenny, and it didn’t appear that time or distance was going to change the way he felt.
She’d been little more than fifteen when he’d first recognized her as a woman. Until then she’d been a pesky kid. Living next door, so to speak, Trey had