Heart of a Hero. Anne Marie Winston

“I’m too heavy for this. You’ll hurt yourself. Put me down.”

      He laughed aloud. “Do you know how many pounds I used to carry up the side of a mountain? Trust me, honey, you’re not too heavy.” He paused at the top for a deep kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and enticing her into exploring him as well. “Besides,” he said when he lifted his head, “when I was packing a load up a mountain, I didn’t have this kind of incentive waiting for me at the top.”

      It took him only a moment to cover the steps to her bedroom, only a moment more to cross the room and set her beside the bed. Although she had steadfastly refused to allow herself to think of him during waking hours, she had dreamed of Wade over and over, even after she’d believed he was dead. But none of the dreams had ever come close to the heady reality of being in his arms. Even now, she wasn’t sure it was real sometimes.

      He pulled her shirt over her head as she set her small hands to work unbuttoning his, then unhooked her bra. She paused so that he could slide it off her shoulder and toss it aside, and then, as he cupped her breasts and began to lightly rub his thumbs across the rosy nipples, her hands slowed and fell away.

      He tore his gaze from the sight of the plump, beautiful mounds in his hands to look into her eyes. Heat and passion filled his gaze, and to her delight, she felt his body shudder in anticipation against her. Reluctantly, he took his hands from her and stripped off his jeans and briefs, then tugged her slacks and panties down and off in one smooth, efficient motion. He reached around her and peeled the bedcovers back before urging her down onto the cool cotton sheets.

      Taking her hand, he guided it down between them to his aching length. “Help me.”

      He jumped when her small hand closed around him. Savoring the silken feeling of his body, so taut and hard, she tightened her grip the way she knew he liked and stroked him once, twice and yet again. His hips lifted and thrust against her and he growled. “Tease.”

      She lightly bit his shoulder. “Tell me you don’t like it and I’ll stop.”

      He sounded as if he were having trouble dragging air into his lungs. “Like that’s ever going to—oh, baby, yeah.”

      As she positioned him at the throbbing entrance to her body, she lifted her hips. He was hot and solid and she cried out as he surged forward, embedding himself deeply within her. Her hands clenched on his buttocks, urging him to move, and within moments they established a fast, frantic rhythm that built a blazing fire within her. His body hammered against her, creating an ever-rising tension that stretched tighter and tighter until finally it snapped. As her body bucked and writhed in his arms, and then he was hoarsely calling her name as his body stiffened and froze in a shattering climax that left him shaking and gasping for breath.

      When she could breathe again, think again, she stretched up and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Wow.”

      He snorted and chuckled. “Yeah. Wow.” He rolled to one side and pulled her into his arms and she relaxed against him, enjoying the cuddling. “I think we’ve mastered that.”

      “You do? As an educator, I can tell you that research shows that even when a skill has been mastered, a certain amount of practice is necessary to reinforce the concept.”

      “Is that so?” He stroked a hand gently down over her hip and lightly squeezed her bottom. “In that case, I suppose we’ll just have to keep practicing until we’re sure we’ve got it right.”

      Now it was her turn to laugh. “Could take a while.”

      “It could,” he agreed.

      Nine

      Wade had a job interview on Friday with the company out of Virginia, the specialized security firm that was setting up a new branch. He’d met the personnel director already, and today’s interview, he told Phoebe, was with the owner of the company.

      “He’s going to love you.” She picked up her coffee cup as he rose to put his dishes in the dishwasher. They’d gotten into a pleasant weekday routine in which they had breakfast together before she left. He usually had some kind of start on dinner before she arrived home, which meant she got her work done faster if she’d brought any home to grade, which meant that right after Bridget went to bed, she and Wade could go to bed, also.

      Or at least go to the bedroom, she amended.

      Every night he made love to her, stoking the blaze between them into a raging inferno of need. She awoke in his arms in the morning to a wild sense of unreality.

      She’d had more than a year to accustom herself to the idea that Wade would not be a part of her life, and during half of that time she’d believed that he was dead. Sometimes it was difficult to believe that she really could be so happy. Although happy was a pale imitation of the feelings that rioted through her when she came through the door in the evening to see him there waiting for her, holding their daughter in the crook of one muscular arm.

      When he pulled her to him and kissed her senseless, she was able to silence the one niggling voice in her head that reminded her that Wade might desire her…but he didn’t love her.

      “Don’t worry about Bridget,” she said. “Angie is watching her all day.”

      Wade nodded. “I could be back by lunch if this doesn’t fly. If it does…it’ll be late when I get home.”

      She rose on tiptoe to kiss him as he straightened his uniform, liking the way he’d said home. As if they truly were a family already. “Good luck.”

      She watched as he climbed into the rental car he still had, and waved as he drove off. “I love you,” she murmured.

      Would she ever be able to say it aloud? He seemed happy, and he clearly was thrilled with fatherhood. And when he touched her…well, they had no problems in that department. She smiled to herself as warmth radiated through her. But sometimes she caught him staring into space with a faraway expression on his face and she wondered what he was thinking about.

      She was afraid she knew. And she was afraid to ask.

      Melanie. Oh, she remembered everything that had happened the night of the reunion, the way he’d looked at her as if she were some new treasure he’d discovered—but that had been one single night. And even then, when he’d realized how upset Melanie had been, he’d been quick to pursue her.

      To reassure her that there was nothing between Phoebe and him?

      She would never know. Just as she would never know how much he still thought of her sister, how often his heart ached with loss.

      Phoebe’s insecurities, those feelings that had dominated her interactions with her sister most of her life, reared up and grabbed her attention every once in a while, reminding her that Wade had belonged to Melanie.

      Never to her.

      True, Wade seemed content now. But was it the familiarity of their friendship? His new fatherhood? Guilt at leaving her pregnant and alone? She feared it might be all three.

       But he’s with me now. He couldn’t make love to me like that if he didn’t care for me at least a little. Could he? Stop being a pessimist.

      The school day dragged. She wondered how Wade’s interview went. She checked her mobile phone for messages several times during the day, but he hadn’t called. Although she hadn’t expected him to, she worried that things hadn’t gone well.

      He probably wouldn’t call her if the interview had not been successful. For all the years that she’d known him, Wade had been an intensely private man about his deepest feelings; she suspected that if he didn’t want to talk, prying any information out of him would be next to impossible.

      It wasn’t until she saw the familiar outline of her little home that her spirits rose. Bridget was in there, with Angie. The sight of her daughter, the feel of that little body snuggled into her arms, was always balm to her sad moments.

      Angie was sitting cross-legged