Page 42 of The Calendar of New Beginnings (Dare Valley #9)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A ndy knew he was probably crushing Lucy, but he couldn’t seem to muster the energy to push away. His breath was still coming out in heaving gasps, his heart was pounding, and sweat was coating his skin. Holy freaking Christ. What had just happened?

He hadn’t been with a lot of women, but he’d had a lot of sex. Good sex. Great sex. The kind of regular married sex that used to put a smile on his face throughout the day. It had gotten better with Kim the more they’d done it, the longer they’d been together.

He’d thought that was how things worked.

Lucy had just blown that theory to hell. Sex with her was like jumping to light speed, and he was flailing to wrap his shorted-out mind around it.

Things had pretty much gone as expected at first. There had been humor between them, and she’d gotten pushy. He’d known she would play an active part.

But something had changed the moment he’d entered her.

She’d gripped his hands and opened everything she was to him, and he’d felt like the deepest parts of each of them were merging together.

And then she’d come, harder and hotter than he could have ever imagined.

The passion between them had been crazy and urgent, and the last threads of his control had splintered.

The force of his climax had been absolute and unwavering.

His body felt hollow now, but there was this odd expansion in his chest, one that felt all warm and comforting.

He nuzzled her neck, wanting to touch her, to be close to her, to never be apart from her. There was love here. So much love he felt small in the face of it.

She was quiet, her breathing smoother than his, and so soft and pliant beneath him.

He forced himself onto his elbows and realized their hands were still wrapped around each other.

Her auburn hair was mussed, a lock of it laying against her soft, white cheek.

The rusty line of her eyelashes curled in the most appealing way.

He’d never realized how long her eyelashes were before.

He saw every freckle, every pore on her face.

It was like every atom that made Lucy O’Brien was suddenly visible to him.

She was beautiful, breathtakingly so.

Her lashes flickered, and her eyes opened. There was wonder there and so much love his heart seemed to fill with it like a water bucket from a well.

“Hey,” he said softly.

The only response he received was a smile, and it was enough.

He gathered his strength to shift off her, but she tightened her legs around him.

“No,” she whispered. “Stay.”

“I don’t want to crush you.”

“You’re not,” she said, all soft and warm under him.

“Let me take care of this,” he said and dispensed with the condom .

Coming back to rest on top of her, they stayed that way until he got a crick in his neck from being on his elbows too long. When he shifted onto his back, she cuddled against him.

Hours seemed to pass. They didn’t speak, and it might have been the longest they’d ever gone without saying a word. Her hand rested on his chest like she was counting his heartbeats while he ran his hand along the side of her back, marveling at the smooth line of her vertebrae.

Finally, his stomach grumbled, and he sighed.

“You’re hungry,” she said, still quieter, still more peaceful than usual.

“I can wait a little longer,” he said, not wanting to interrupt their reverie.

She made no move to rise, only rested her face on his chest. When his stomach made more noises, she finally pressed up. Her hair looked a bit tangled, which pleased him somehow, and her eyes were like luminous jewels.

“Come on,” she said. “You need to eat.”

He tugged her back, drinking in her soft gaze. “I don’t want to leave this.”

A half smile touched her face. “We won’t.”

But she kept her back to him as she rose and pulled on a robe from her bag, and he could feel that they were once again on unfamiliar ground. At least there were puffy clouds beneath their feet.

She was making sandwiches when he joined her in the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around her middle. The sweep of her mustard-covered knife slowed on the bread.

“Well,” he said in a deep voice. He hadn’t heard himself sound this way for some time, husky and satisfied, replete from lovemaking.

“Well,” she replied, resuming her task.

“Can you stop making the sandwiches for just a minute, please?”

She set the knife down on the counter and turned around. There wasn’t a smile on her face, but her eyes were serious.

“Are we going to talk about what we’re feeling here?” he asked, suddenly awkward again. “I…it was cataclysmic for me. You?”

“Same,” she said, leaning back against the counter. “I was trying to credit it to the pillow.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Seriously?”

Her shoulder lifted. “I’ve never…”

“Ah…it’s an anatomy thing,” he said, putting his hand next to hers on the counter. “I studied anatomy, remember?”

“You always were an A student,” she responded, giving away nothing.

“It wasn’t the pillow. It was us. This.”

She heaved out a slow breath. “I know. I thought it would be good, but I didn’t see this coming, frankly.”

It was hard not to grin. “Neither did I, but as my mother always says, ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’”

She punched him in the chest, righting the easy balance between them. “Thanks for making me think about your mother after I just had wild sex with her son.”

Since she was starting to seem more like herself, he pressed a little closer. All he wanted to do was put her on the countertop and gobble her up. “It was more than wild sex.”

“Yes, it sure was. As I was making the sandwiches, I finally realized why.”

He couldn’t keep from sliding his arms around her waist. “Enlighten me. ”

She pressed her lips together like she was trying to find the words.

“When I was out on a particularly tough assignment, I would come back to wherever I was staying feeling numb. It was like everything inside me was frozen after what I’d seen.

If I had Internet, I’d pull up my computer and write to you—even if you weren’t awake. ”

How many nights had he done the same with her? Especially after Kim had died. She’d been his salvation in a way, the one person with whom he could share his deepest and darkest hurts and fears.

“When I finished writing you, I could feel my heart again.”

He was stunned for a moment when the words sunk in. “Oh, Lucy.”

She took his hand and placed it over the spot that reverberated in steady, easy beats.

“I felt like that again after we made love,” she said, and he knew it was the first time she’d used that term instead of sex.

“Andy, you help me get in touch with my heart. You always have. And today…today you put me into a deeper connection with my heart than I’ve ever experienced.

” She looked at him, and he was alarmed to see tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t expect that.”

His own heart thundered in his chest.

“You’ve always helped me feel my heart too,” he said quietly, “even when I didn’t think I had one left.”

She cupped his chin. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, lowering his head until his mouth was inches from hers. “Thanks for helping me find it again.”

And then he kissed her softly on the lips, feeling their hearts dance around each other all over again.