her breasts ache with need. When he stretched his fingers over her fullness she was ready, arching toward him. This time, he let her move, filling his hand, pressing hard into his palm.
She felt his laughter against her lips as his hand took its time molding her softest flesh to his will. He knew he was pleasing her just as she knew her soft moans pleased him.
Without warning, he deepened the kiss once more. When she responded in kind, he tightened his grip over her, branding her forever with his “one touch.”
Chapter 12
They didn’t say a word when he finally pulled away with one last tender kiss on her cheek. She buttoned her shirt. He straightened flat on his back once more. Both knew the other was awake. Both were too lost in their own thoughts to talk.
She stared out the window. A sliver of a moon was slightly visible between two clouds. She could still taste his mouth on hers. She could still feel his hand over her breast. He’d kept his word. He’d kissed her good night and he’d touched her once. A kiss that had taken her to heaven. A touch that she felt all the way to her very soul.
How could the gentle, quiet man do such a thing? Why had he?
A smile slowly spread across her bruised lips. Because, she answered herself, I asked him to. She felt a power build inside her, a power she’d never known. She’d always been the little sister, the daughter who obeyed, who would have been the old maid taking care of her poppa in his aging years if he hadn’t found the widow to marry. No one had ever let her set the rules for anything in her life, and now this strong, powerful man did just that.
She couldn’t stop grinning. She might have set the rules, but he’d made full use of his one touch.
“Aggie,” he said low near her ear. “Are you asleep?”
“No, dear,” she answered, seeing no reason to pretend.
“Why me?”
“What?” She knew what he was asking, but she wanted to make sure.
“Why’d you marry me? There must have been men at every house you visited. Men with more money. Men better looking.”
“There were.” She wished she could tell him how many had made fools of themselves, promising her the moon and stars as if they could deliver. Promising her that life would be one endless party when all she wanted was a quiet place to be happy.
“Then what made you meet me at the train?”
“Because,” she whispered as she relaxed into sleep. “You saw me. The inside, not just the out. And you liked me—just me—even before we”—she yawned and mumbled the last few words—“stepped into the light.”
Hank heard her breathing slow and knew she was asleep. “You’re wrong,” he whispered. “I loved you—even before we stepped into the light.”
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