Man...Mercenary...Monarch. Joan Elliott Pickart

      “Well, I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you, Laura. I’m very glad that you got cabin fever and came to Jake’s tonight.”

      “So am I,” she said softly.

      They smiled, warm smiles, meaningful smiles, smiles that wrapped around them like a comforting blanket.

      Then the smiles disappeared as they continued to gaze into each other’s eyes. The desire within them burned brighter, hotter, consumed them.

      And they welcomed it, because it was real and rich, and so very, very right. It belonged to them in their private and special world.

      They communicated without words, messages of want and need sent and received with intertwined emotions of peacefulness and excitement.

      John slid out of the booth and extended his hand to Laura. She placed her hand in his with no hesitation and moved to stand by his side. He retrieved their jackets, assisted Laura in putting hers on, shrugged into his own, then dropped several bills onto the table.

      With his hand resting on Laura’s back, they made their way through the crowd at the bar to emerge into the clear, cold night.

      “I walked over from my motel,” John said quietly. “It’s a couple of miles from here.”

      “I borrowed a vehicle from where I’m staying,” Laura said. “We can go in that.”

      John stepped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

      “Laura.” He looked directly into her eyes, able to see her in the light from the neon sign on the building. “I want you to know that this isn’t just…just a night like I spoke of before.”

      “I know that, John,” she said softly. “I don’t quite understand why this is so right, but it is, and I’ll have no regrets about what we’re going to share. I promise you that.”

      He nodded, brushed his lips over hers, then tugged his Stetson low on his forehead.

      A short time later, John parked the truck Laura had borrowed in front of his room at the motel. He’d left a small lamp on and the room welcomed them with a dim, golden glow.

      John closed the door and slipped the chain into place. Laura leaned against the door and he braced his hands on either side of her head.

      “I can’t see you after tonight,” he said. “I have to focus on my son, on learning how to become the best father I can be.”

      “I understand,” she said, nodding. “It’s better this way, because I’m only here temporarily. This is our night, John. It was fate, our meeting at Jake’s, talking, sharing, feeling as though we’d known each other for a very long time. It’s all very special, rare, and very, very beautiful.”

      John nodded, then lowered his head to claim Laura’s mouth in a gentle, fleeting kiss.

      Laura kept her arms at her sides as he kissed her again, deeper this time, parting her lips to seek, find, then duel with her tongue in the sweet darkness of her mouth.

      Laura’s legs began to tremble and she gripped John’s jacket, holding fast.

      The kiss went on and on.

      It was magic.

      It was a night stolen out of time and reality.

      It was clothes seeming to float away by a wish, instead of a touch, as desire exploded within them with hot, licking flames. It was passion soaring to previously unknown, glorious heights.

      Cool sheets on the bed greeted their heated bodies and they kissed, caressed, explored, marveling at the wonders discovered.

      John supported his weight on one forearm as he skimmed his other hand over Laura’s breasts, then on to splay over her flat stomach.

      “You’re beautiful, Laura,” he murmured, close to her lips.

      “So are you,” she whispered, her fingertips tracing the taut muscles in his back.

      He shifted lower to lave the nipple of one of her breasts with his tongue. Laura sank her hands into his thick hair, pressing his mouth harder onto the soft flesh. She closed her eyes for a moment to savor the exquisite sensations rushing through her.

      She opened her eyes again, wanting to see John in the glow of the lamp, wanting to memorize every detail of him, cherishing the sight, the sound, the taste and feel of this magnificent man.

      Her man, Laura thought dreamily. Hers for one night. They were creating memories together that she would keep forever, tuck away so securely in her heart. In the years yet to come she could reach into the secret cupboard and relive the magic of this night.

      “Magic,” she said, not realizing she’d spoken aloud.

      “Yes,” John said, raising his head to meet her gaze. “That’s what it is—was from the moment I saw you. I’ve never talked, shared, with anyone the way I have with you, probably never will again. Thank you, Laura, for…for just being you.”

      “And I thank you, John, for being you, for chasing away my loneliness, for trusting me with your worries and fears, the very essence of who you are. I’ll never forget you. Never.”

      “Yes, you will, and you should.”

      “No, I…”

      “Shh,” he said, then his mouth melted over hers.

      They were no longer in a small, shabby room; they were in a field of wildflowers under a brilliant blue sky and a warming sun. They were in a place meant only for the two of them, where no one else was allowed to go.

      Their place. Their world. Their magic.

      Their breathing became labored and hearts thundered. Hands were never still and where hands had traveled, lips followed in a heated path.

      It was wild, and reckless, and wonderful.

      “John,” Laura gasped finally, “please.”

      “Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Wait. I want to protect you.”

      John returned to her as quickly as possible and Laura reached out for him eagerly, his absence having been an eternity.

      John moved over her, catching his weight on his arms, then he entered her slowly, filling her, watching her face for any hint of pain.

      Laura sighed in pure feminine pleasure, a soft smile forming on her lips. She raised her hips to meet him and the dance began, building in power and force to a pounding rhythm, taking them higher and higher.

      Reaching. Glorying in the ecstasy. Anticipating the moment of exquisite release. Giving and receiving in total abandon.

      On and on…

      “John!”

      “Yes!”

      Laura clung to his shoulders and he flung his head back, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. They were there, together, and neither wished the moment to end. They hovered, savoring, awed by the splendor.

      John collapsed against Laura, his energy spent. He rolled off of her quickly so as not to crush her, then he nestled her close to his side.

      Hearts quieted. Bodies cooled. The flames of desire dimmed to simmering embers.

      They didn’t speak as the magic demanded silence. Reverently, carefully, memories were hidden away in private chambers of their hearts.

      They slept, heads on the same pillow, Laura’s hand encircling a small ring that hung on a chain around John’s neck.

      Fingers of sunlight inched beneath the curtains on the window to tiptoe across Laura’s face, waking her. She opened her eyes slowly, then in the next instant sat bolt upright on the bed, her heart racing as she realized she had absolutely no idea where she was.

      The cobwebs of sleep disappeared with a blink, to be replaced by