Listen to Your Heart - Fern Michaels [60]
“Now this is what I call a perfect evening,” Paul said as he dried the last dish and placed it in the cabinet. “You’re staying, aren’t you?” he said, wrapping her in his arms. “The dogs are asleep, and it would be a shame to wake them.”
“Try and get rid of me,” Josie said, lifting her lips to his.
“’Night, guys,” Paul said quietly. Rosie squirmed out from her safe haven next to Zip and waddled over to Josie. Josie bent down to pick her up. She walked across the room with the little dog cuddled to her chest. She crooned and whispered to her. “I just want you to be happy, baby. It’s okay—it really is. You’ll always be my baby. Now I have Zip, too. Keep him in line. He’s afraid I’m going to take you away from him. I would never do that. He just doesn’t know it yet. You belong to me, and don’t you ever forget it.” The little dog licked at her face and then squirmed to get down. Josie swore later that the boxer nodded his satisfaction when Rosie stretched out alongside him. She watched, a smile on her face when she saw one big paw stretch out protectively.
“I guess our little brood is safe and sound.”
“They’re happy,” Josie said with a catch in her voice. “My mother always said real, true love was making sure the other person was happy. I think she was right.”
“Ha! I know she was right. I wish I had known your mother.”
“I wish you had, too. She would have liked you. I think you would have liked her, too.”
“You can use this bathroom. I’ll use the one across the hall,” Paul said.
“Okay.” Josie turned around. “I love you, Paul Brouillette. I think you should know that.”
“I love you, too, Josie Dupré. I think you should know that, too.”
The wind outside the bedroom lifted, stirring the branches of the old oak tree, making it sway in an endless rhythm. The black night sky touched with stars was like a coverlet drawn over the old house when Paul turned off the lamp. They were alone, two souls, finding each other, getting to know each other all over again.
Naked together, they clung, kissing, murmuring, lips moving softly against lips. Her flesh came alive under his touch, her excitement and passion communicating with and stirring his own.
She was his love. He had held her this way before, just hours ago, worshiping at her breasts and taking possession of her innermost core, yet she excited and stirred him as if it were the first time. There was so much more to Josie than fair skin and alluring curves; there was the woman within, the woman he now knew he could not live without. He pulled her on top of him, wanting her to master their desire.
Wild blood coursed through her veins, her aching need for him cried within her soul. This was the man she loved.
Slowly he filled her with himself, and she opened to him, moving with him, imprisoning him in love’s tender sheath. She whimpered softly, loving the feel of his body, responding to the sound of his tender whispers when he told her of her beauty and the way he loved the scent that was only hers.
He savored her lips, tasting the ambrosia of passion’s fruit, tantalizing, withdrawing from her and entering again with slow, sensuous strokes and the caressing roll of his hips beneath her haunches. He inspired her to ride him, to take him deep within, helping her find the sweet fulfillment at the center of her being. His loving hands possessed her breasts, cupping their firmness, following their lovely slope to tease the pouting crests.
Fire sparked where their flesh joined, but it was only kindling to the raging conflagration of their souls. And when their lips met again, they tasted the salt of tears, and each thought it was their own.
Together they slept in one another’s arms. And when they awoke in the early hours before dawn, they made love again and again.
Over coffee Paul leaned across his newly decorated table,