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sleep, a veil of hair tangled around her throat. He knew she was awake when she pressed a slow, hot kiss on his left nipple.
"Have we waited long enough?" she whispered, teasing him to hardness again with the husky bourbon of her voice.
He groaned. She could arouse him with only her voice.
The need for her came back, as strong and sharp as before. And before. And before.
He slid an arm beneath her and dragged her up to him, slanting his mouth on hers, savoring the softness of her lips, the humid, salty taste of her.
She pulled away with a throaty giggle. "I am hungry again."
He touched her chin, tilted her face up to his. "And for what this time?"
She smiled. "What does it matter to me?" His gaze flicked to the table beside the bed. It was heaped with empty dishes and glasses, piled with half-eaten fruit and bowls full of candy. "You're right. We ought to keep our strength up."
She reached blindly behind her and picked out a ripe peach. Bringing it between them, she took a big, moist bite, laughing as the pale juice slid down her chin and plopped on his chest. He leaned down, took a bite, then he kissed her deeply.
She flopped into the heap of pillows beside him. "I miss the sunlight on my face. Let us go for a walk."
Ian felt a stab of fear at the words. It came, hit him hard, then dissipated. He had nothing to be afraid of anymore. She'd been a virgin-her maidenhead and her pain and the blood on the sheets had been all the proof he needed. There was no phantom husband lurking behind the door or beyond the gates. Nothing to be afraid of anymore.
It was an incredible feeling, this lack of fear, this sudden, exhilarating hope for the future. He had lived
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so long without it, maybe always, and to have it now, at thirty-five, was the most precious gift he could imagine.
"I'm not afraid." He said the words softly, wincing when he heard them spoken aloud. They sounded so silly and puerile. How could she know what they meant?
"What will you do now, with this fearlessness?"
He frowned. It was not what he'd expected her to say, although such a thing shouldn't surprise him. She never said what he expected. He stroked the silky hair from her face and smiled down at her. "What do you mean?"
She scrunched her face in the familiar expression of deep thought, chewed on her lower lip for a second. "You have lived here as people's . .. keeper for many years now, yes?"
"Yes."
"This has been because of fear."
"Yes."
"Then you should change your life now."
"I have changed it."
"How?"
He drew her close. "I've spent four days in bed with a woman I love."
She gave him a broad smile. "That is not what I mean. The dictionary defines change as transformation, alteration."
"I don't-"
"What is your dream?"
"Dream?" Like an idiot, he parroted the word. He shrugged. "I don't know, loving you until I die?"