Chapter Nine
Andie skidded to a stop, her legs stiff from the hours she'd spent in the hospital waiting room, frozen at the sight of Diana. She lay stiffly in a bed covered with a soft, pink blanket, a wall of windows spilling light over her pale face. The room might have been cozy if Diana hadn't had wires and tubes toward her body, poison slowly dripping into her body and her arm curved protectively over her suddenly asymmetrical chest.
"Hey." Andie gave her friend's fingers a gentle squeeze. "This is going to be fine. There's nothing to be afraid of. We're going to get you better. What's wrong? Can you tell me?"
"Oh, Andie." Diana's fingers tightened until she had a death grip on her. "It's awful."
"What's awful? Does something hurt? What should I do?" Andie glanced wildly around, looking for a nurse, a doctor, someone, anyone.
Diana let out a cold little laugh and Andie froze.
"No, Andie, it's awful, I know, but my breast, I... I can't wear any of my bras anymore." And two tiny tracks of tears streaked down her cheeks.
Andie cradled Diana's hands against her face, stunned. She was her best friend; she knew everything about Diana. She of all people should have realized, should have remembered. Ever since middle school, not a day had gone by that Diana hadn't worn a pretty, lacy matching bra and underwear set. The habit had become even more important to her as she'd become an adult and taken over the orchard. She spent every day in work overalls and rubber boots, rain slickers and Carhartt pants. How many times had Diana told Andie she didn't feel like a woman without her fancy underclothes, that she didn't even feel like herself without them now? How could Andie have forgotten?
"Don't you worry, Diana," she said. "I'll take care of it today, as soon as I leave here. There's a store over in Greenfield that sells really pretty bras for people who've had mastectomies. Do you want... should I get you..." Andie trailed off, not sure how to say what she was thinking.
"A replacement boob?" Diana smiled tightly. "Yes. I don't want to walk around all lopsided until I can have my reconstructive surgery. Do you think you could go now?"
"Are you sure? I thought you wanted me to stay here with you?" Andie reached forward and tucked a long, silky strand of Diana's hair behind her ear. "I'll do whatever you want."
"I want to feel pretty again."
Andie stood, clapping her hands together briskly. "Then that's what I'll do. Lucky for you, Mrs. Brown is watching the store today. You want me to send in your mom?" Diana gave her a quick, sharp nod, so Andie spun on her heel, then paused at the door. "And Diana?"
Diana stopped fussing with the ties on her hospital gown and looked up at her. "What?'
"If you're a good little girl, and take your medicine, I'll tell you all about the date Conner and I have planned for tomorrow night."
"No! Really? A real one? I can't believe it!" And Diana smiled, a bright grin that chased away a layer of fear from her face.
"Mmm hmm. So be good!" Andie waved a finger at her like she was telling her to behave, then strode out the door. She only managed to get halfway down the hallway before she had to prop herself against a wall and fight the anxiety that wanted to swarm over her. She felt like the worse friend ever. How had she'd forgotten such a core part of Diana's personality? She should have seen it, should have realized what was happening and taken care of it. No wonder Diana had been feeling so bad since the surgery.
Andie let her head drop back against the wall, shut her eyes and willed herself to be calm. And then, she knew she wasn't alone anymore.
"Hey. What's wrong?" Conner slid his palm down her arm, all the way to her fingers, then interlaced them with hers.
"It's a girl thing." Andie shoved away from the wall. "I've got to go over to Greenfield and run an errand for Diana."
"Then we'll go to Greenfield." He started to tow her down the hall. "What about Diana?"
"She wants me to send her mom in. Hey, wait a second. Conner, wait." When he finally seemed to register the worry in her voice, the way she was jerking at his hand, he stopped.
"What's wrong?" His gaze swept over her from under the dark length of lashes, his mouth set in a serious line.
"I -" Andie paused to blow a fluffy curl out of her face. "Don't you have something to do? Somewhere to be? This is going to take up the whole afternoon. I can't ask you to give up your time like that."
His dimple shimmered in and out of existence as he stepped closer, nudging his body against hers. He cupped his hand around the back of her head, tipping it up so that they were eye to eye. "I don't want to be anywhere else, with anyone else but you. Right now, you are all that matters to me. Is that clear?"
"But-"
Conner placed a finger against her lips, stilling them. "No. You are all that matters." And then he replaced his finger with his mouth. They slid into the kiss together, a long slow, tender meeting of the lips. The warmth of it filled Andie, first her head, then her heart, until she felt like she'd swallowed the sun.
"Okay," she whispered against his mouth and he laughed, then laced their fingers together again.
"So," he asked as he led her toward the waiting room. "Where are we going?"
"Lingerie shopping," Andie said, still too dazed to realize how that might sound.
"Even better." He slid her a glance, one that had something hot and shaky coiling low in her belly.
"Nuh uh. Don't get any ideas. I have to pick up some stuff for Diana and bring it straight back."
"Straight back? We couldn't say, take a ten minute detour?" He slid his thumb back and forth over her palm until her skin felt like it had a dozen angry bumble bees inside of it.
"No. No ten minute detours. You can take all the... ten minute detours you want tomorrow, on our date." She paused outside the waiting room door and let her head rest on the cold, cinder block wall for a minute.
Conner slid his hand free from hers, pressed his thumbs into the tension knot at the base of her neck. He rubbed gently, easing a little of the pressure. "Hey, want me to go in there? I can get Susan."
"No. I'm going." And she did. She talked to Susan, had a quick whispered conversation with Shawn, who assured her he'd be able to pick up Logan from school, that he'd pick up Conner's puppy from his house and take him to the clinic for the afternoon, and then she was out of there.
The cold, October air blew through her hair, slipping its icy fingers under the warm wool sweater she wore. Andie realized guiltily that she felt like a little kid, let loose from school ten minutes before the start of the big test, the one she hadn't studied for.
Conner gave her a narrow look then slung an arm around her shoulders as he led her through the parking lot and over to his Jeep. "It's okay to feel like that, you know."
"Like what?" Andie asked. But she knew he knew and she couldn't manage to meet his eyes as she pretended otherwise.
"Like you got a 'get out of jail free' card. This is a damn hard thing for everyone to be going through. It's going to be heck for everyone back there, watching her, waiting, worrying. When you get a reprieve, when you walk away from that, it's normal to feel some relief."
"Even if it's my best friend?" Andie asked as he opened the door for her.
"Especially if it's your best friend." He boosted her into the truck, one hand on the small of her back, the other on her butt. When she gave him a steely glance over her shoulder he laughed.
"What? This isn't a ten minute detour." And the hand that was still on her butt, gave a good hard squeeze.
"No, it's the side road that leads to the detour. Hands off, at least for now."
"Okay, Okay." Conner walked around the hood of the truck and slid into the driver's seat, the keys in his hands, but he didn't turn the ignition. Instead, he gave her a wicked smile. "I'm doing a good thing here, right? That means I deserve a reward."
"What kind of reward?"
Conner looked at her, all traces of the smile gone. "I want you to try on some of the lingerie. I want to see you."
"Nope. No way." God, could he have picked anything worse? Yeah, maybe she felt a little sting of excitement at the thought, and yeah, she wanted more than anything to feel alive, to feel free again. She could see herself, nearly naked, under the buzzing florescent lights. No way was that happening.
Conner looked at her, and then, instead of putting the keys in the ignition, he slid them into the pocket of his leather jacket.
Andie's stomach pitched with nerves. "I can't. Not in the middle of the store, but you can pick out... something for me. I promise to wear it on our date." And hell if that didn't make her feel as bright as a thousand candles, all lit at once.
Out came the keys. "Good enough, but not on our date. I want you to wear it the whole day tomorrow." He shifted as close as he could to her in the confines of the SUV. Close enough that his scent could curl around her, dragging at her body, urging her closer. "I want to know it's there, our secret, under your prim, shop-lady clothes."
Andie's mind thrummed. There was being alive and then there was being foolish. "Uh. Wait. You can pick out something within reason. Within reason!" She repeated louder when he only laughed.
"Too late. You already agreed. And I know you're a woman of your word, Andie Turner." He threw her a wicked little smile that had his dimple creasing his cheek before he started the truck.
And all Andie could think was, "crap."
***
A loud banging on his apartment door pulled Conner from his sleep. "Go away!" he shouted, then buried his head under the pillow. No way he was getting up. He'd had a hard time falling asleep last night and when he finally had, he'd been wrapped in seductive, torturous dreams of Andie. He'd seen her as clearly as if she'd been right in front of him, the soft curves of her breasts wrapped in the sheer, creamy bra he'd picked out. The matching garter belt, clipped to the stockings covering her long, luscious legs. Best of all, the tiny scrap of fabric centered over her core, barely covering anything at all...
He was sliding back into the dream, back into the heat of her, when the thumping came again.
"Hell!" He shoved back the comforter, then thought better of it and wrapped it around his waist, hiding the evidence of his dream. "I'm coming!"
As soon as he stepped out of the bedroom, he could hear the wind hammering against the lakeside windows. The glass rattled under the impact, underscoring the heavy thump of pounding rain.
"Something better be on fire!" he shouted, then ripped open the door.
"Or flooding?" a dripping wet Shawn asked, his face twisted into a scowl.
"What?" Conner hitched the blanket a little higher.
"The wind tore a bunch of shingles off the roof of your building. You've got rain pouring into the upper floor, and on top of that, the basement has about two inches of water in it. Andie sent me to get you. Power's out. Cell service too. Let's go."
When Conner stood there, his brain completely blank, Shawn made a sound of disgust.
"Come on! Do you want all the work you've done to be ruined? Let's go!" And he gave him a small shove to get him moving. So Conner went.
It took him approximately sixty seconds to get dressed, throw on his rain coat and a pair of slop boots and follow Shawn out to the parking lot.
"Let's take my SUV. The roads could be washed out." Conner paused at his Jeep, looking at the small slice of the lake framed between the buildings. He didn't need to see more to know it was raging. It was a dull, deep gray, its waves rising higher then he'd ever seen before, exploding into massive walls of white spray as they hit the huge boulders of the breakwater.
"Where the hell did this come from?" He vaulted into the Jeep and was peeling out, into the street, in a mater of seconds.
Shawn shook his head. " Blew up out of nowhere. It's bad. There wasn't much warning. I imagine the Coast Guard's going to be very busy today."
"Logan?" Conner asked as he squealed around a corner.
"At Mrs. Brown's house." Shawn looked into the backseat. "Where's your puppy?"
Conner pressed his lips together as he urged the accelerator a little higher. "He's not my dog anymore. He's Diana and Susan's dog now. Diana needed him more than I did." And if that thought caused a little sliver of pain to slide though his heart, well, he'd be damned if he was going to show it. "Is your sister okay? You didn't leave her alone there, did you?"
"No. Johnny's there, and Mrs. Brown's son, Jake, the one that did your plumbing. They've about got most of her merchandise out of the basement. We stacked it in the old courtroom for now. It's the driest room. I don't think you even have to worry about the mural getting wet, as long as we stay on top of things. All the roof leaks are over on the other side of the building."
Conner sighed as he screeched to a stop. All he'd wanted to do today was think about Andie wearing her sexy underwear under her work clothes while he worked the afternoon shift at the pub, then get his apartment cleaned up as decent as he could, get the pasta he'd planned for supper prepped. And think about the underwear...
"Dude!" Shawn shouted, practically in his ear. "Snap out of it. Let's get this done! I've got about four hours, and then you're on your own. I've got a clinic to run. You know how it gets during a storm; lost animals, hurt animals; crazy people. So let's go!"
"Yeah, yeah." Conner shoved out of the SUV, sinking his head deeply into his collar, trying to evade the sting from the bulleting rain drops. The wind hurtled past him so hard that it felt like it was snatching the air out of his throat, his lungs. He literally had to struggle to get a breath and lean at an angle to walk through it. When he opened the glass door to the entranceway, the wind snatched at that too, and it took the two of them to wrestle it closed.
The sudden silence pounded at his ears.
"Holy crap," Conner said.
Shawn wiped a hand over his face, flicking away the rain. "You're telling me."
"Shawn?" Andie popped out of the door of her shop, her face lit by the soft glow of the oil lantern she carried. Another gust of wind slammed into the side of the building and Conner heard something creak and shudder. Andie jumped, then laughed nervously.
"Don't worry," Conner said. "This building isn't going anywhere. I don't know if even a tornado could touch it."
"No, I know." But he could still see the way she shivered when the next gust hammered against the windows.
Shawn grabbed a huge electric torch from his sister. "You get all your stuff out?"
Andie grimaced. "Most of it. Some of it was ruined."
Conner swung his jacket off, gave it a good shake, then hung it on one of the coat racks by the door. "All right. Let's round up some buckets. Andie, you can stay here if you want. I don't know if you should be traipsing around in the dark, especially not in heels." And then he realized that along with the heels, she was wearing a sapphire-blue sweater dress, sashed tight around her waist with a white leather belt. Her feet were clad in white leather boots with spike heels and white stockings slid up the long, long, columns of her legs, only to disappear under the hem of her dress. White stockings. She was wearing the stockings. Which meant she was wearing everything else.
He was pretty sure he heard the trickle of liquid as all of his blood gushed south. His eyes skated over her body, then back up to her face. Her cheeks were a deep rosy red.
"The storm wasn't so bad a couple hours ago, when I was getting dressed, and the power was still on. I opened the shop. I thought maybe I might get a few customers. I didn't know it was going to turn into this." She pressed her fingers to her lips, like she was trying to stop the flow of words from her mouth.
Conner took five steps forward, took the lantern from her, set it on the floor and then tugged her against him. He knew Shawn was right there. He knew his building was flooding. He knew that if he didn't stop it, he'd never be able to sell it, to live his dream in Montana, never be able to get away from his dad and his disapproval. In that moment, he didn't give a crap about any of it, any of it but her.
He took her mouth with his, swallowing the gasp of shock and arousal as it poured out of her throat. He could feel her pulse thudding under her breasts, racing in time with the thunder of the storm, with his own heart. He tasted and took until his mouth filled with the flavor of her, his lungs with the scent of her, his body with fiery need for her. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done to pull his head away from her, to step back.
He ignored Shawn's grunt of disgust, focused totally on Andie. "We're still on for tonight, right?"
Andie looked out into the dark gray wall of water and wind lashing against the glass. "I don't know what kind of date we can have in this."
Conner cradled her cheek, let the pad of his thumb slip across her lower lip, watched her eyes dilate with pleasure. And thought he might die right there from the strength of his want for her, his need for her. "Please. I'll figure out something. Give me something to look forward to at the end of the day."
She ducked her head, peeked up at him through her lashes. "All right. If you're up for it, so am I."
And he knew that she was agreeing to a whole lot more than a dinner and a movie.
***
Andie stood in the middle of her shop, a faceted, crystal star in her hands, watching the shimmer and spark of the candle flames reflected in it. And tried to ignore the fact that her hands were icy, her fingers shaking. She'd been in a dull state of panic all day. Well, panic and arousal. She couldn't lie about that, not to herself. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop thinking about him. About Conner.
What little light there was in the sky was fading fast as the storm continued to thrash against the building. Shawn had made it to the clinic, then safely home again. Logan had gone for his sleepover, despite the storm. In fact, he was probably safer and happier there, as the Peterson's had a generator, which meant lights, cooked food and as much X-box as Logan and Trent could play.
In that moment, not a single person needed Andie.
She turned in a slow circle in her shop, watching the shimmer of flame and gold and crystal. She felt lost. The thought scared Andie. Not that she was lost, but that she should feel it, that she had somehow given away so much of herself that when she was no longer required to give, she should feel like there wasn't enough left to be Andie, to be her own woman, anymore.
The door to her shop swung open and Conner stepped through. He was covered with dirt and grime and sopping wet. Even though Andie knew his eyes were green, at that moment, she could have sworn they were black. They pulled her in, pulled her closer, and the dull ache inside her sparked hotter. And that heat was enough to help her remember, at least a little bit, who she was.
" A minute," Andie said. She went from candle to candle, snuffing each flame, watching as the smoke spiraled into the air, then died away. She wrapped her thick, wool coat around her and covered her head with her scarf. Then she put her hand in Conner's and let him lead her out into the night.
The wind lashed at her, threatening to tear her coat right off her body. Conner picked up the pace, towing her along with him, then boosted her into the SUV.
"Ready?" he asked as he turned on the headlights. He smiled, but it was a hungry smile and Andie shivered, suddenly not sure she was ready for this, for the changes that might come after, no matter how it would make her feel in the moment, no matter how she needed it.
"Conner." She whispered his name, so quiet she wasn't even sure he had heard her, but he had.
He let his hand rest on her thigh, heavy and warm, for a moment before returning it to the wheel, needing it to wrestle his way through the storm. "It will be okay, Andie, I promise. It's going to be better than okay." And he gave her a grin, his dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth. It was enough for her. Enough to know that it was Conner, that it had always been Conner. She wanted this more than she would have ever thought possible, and if things changed after, well, they'd deal with it then.
They were at his apartment in a matter of minutes. Conner used the flashlight on his phone to light the way into his kitchen and showed her the drawer where he kept the emergency candles, flashlights and matches. "Why don't you light some of these? I'm going to take a quick shower, try to scrape the worst of the dirt off. Okay, Andie?" He tucked one of her curls behind her ear.
"Yes, okay." She handed him one of the flashlights. "Hurry."
Conner laughed, leaned forward to press a quick kiss against her forehead. "Your wish is my command." And he disappeared down the hallway.
Andie set lighted candles in the kitchen and living room. She slipped out of her boots, then padded down the hallway, stopping in front of open doorway to his bedroom. Then she stepped through, setting candles on the dresser and the nightstands.
The furniture was utilitarian, had probably come with the apartment, but the bed was covered in a thick, golden brown comforter with cozy red flannel sheets peaking out from beneath. The room smelled of lemon furniture polish and Andie could see the tracks from the vacuum in the cream colored rug. It touched her, in a way that she hadn't expected, to think of big, tough Conner cleaning for her, preparing for her.
Andie felt her breath catch in her throat as she heard the shower shut off. Just like that, the reality of what was happening, what was about to happen, hit her. Some of her courage deserted her and she fled for the living room.
Conner stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still slick with wet, his white t-shirt and jeans clinging to his damp body. He stood at the entrance to the living room, his shoulders filling the opening, as he stared at her, sunk into the couch. "I had everything planned. I was going to cook pasta. I had champagne. I still have champagne, I guess, although I'm not sure how cold it is now."
"Can we have some champagne? I wouldn't mind a glass." And wasn't that the understatement of the year? She was desperate for a glass, anything to ease the horrible ache in her throat, the nerves burning in her fingers. She fought back a nervous laugh; nobody could say she wasn't alive now. She felt so alive she thought she might levitate with it.
Conner popped the cork on the bottle, the crack of noise making her jump. He filled two flutes and brought them to where she sat, but instead of handing her one, he placed them both on the coffee table. He bent over the small wood stove and lit the pile of kindling inside. The flickering glow slid over his skin as he lifted her feet off the floor, swung her around so that she was reclining back against the arm of the sofa, then sat, placing her feet in his lap.
He handed her the champagne glass. "Shut your eyes."
"Conner. I don't-"
"Shut your eyes, Andie. stop thinking for a little bit." His voice was rough, commanding, and Andie could sense an underlying tension in him, as if he barely had himself under control. He pressed his thumb into the arch of her foot, his fingers sliding slightly against the silky material of the stockings.
Andie shut her eyes as a wave of pleasure washed over her. It felt so good. She hadn't even realized that her feet ached from the boots she'd been wearing until he began to work the tension and stress out of them. His hands were warm, almost hot against her skin as he worked his way from the arch down to each toe. They slid up her calf.
Andie gulped the rest of her champagne, hoping to ease the dryness in her mouth, then opened her eyes. He was watching her, his eyes half closed, the thud of his pulse at the base of his throat visible even from here. A sudden burst of wind battered the windows and Andie jumped.
Conner's eyes grew even darker, and then he was standing up; moving her legs and placing his still full glass on the coffee table, before kneeling on the carpet next to her.
He swept her hair back from her face. "You're so beautiful, Andie." He leaned forward and let his lips brush against hers, soft and slow, tantalizing and teasing, until Andie's lips burned with the light touch, until she ached for something deeper, something harder. She tugged him closer, desperate for more.
Conner's tongue swept her bottom lip, tasting her. His scent, soap and that smell of fresh outdoor air he always seemed to carry, invaded her, sending her head swimming, driving her a little crazy. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders, trying to pull him toward her, but still it was only his mouth that touched hers.
"Conner." Andie gasped his name, and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside her mouth, sweeping through her, exploring her until her whole body ached with wanting him.
Conner leaned back, his gaze running over her, so hot she almost swore that its path left a trail of blisters. He wrapped her hands in his and tugged until she rose to her feet. Andie's head fell back as Conner left a trail of scorching kisses across the small sliver of skin bared by the slight scooped neckline of her dress. Andie was suddenly desperate to feel more, to feel all of him, and she couldn't hold back the shudder that raced through her.
Conner groaned, a low rough noise and jerked her against him. His hands slid to her hips and he pressed into her, causing Andie's heart to suddenly beat in an odd, erratic flurry.
"Conner, I-" Andie's voice was stuck in her throat and she had to take a deep breath, try again. "I haven't done this in a long time." Which was a huge, massive understatement. Andie hadn't been with anyone since college, since before her parent's death. At first, she'd been lost in grief, then she'd been lost in raising a child, and then, somehow, she'd just become lost, her true self buried behind mountains of responsibility and worry and everything else she'd let pile up, until she'd forgotten that she had ever been anything other than a caregiver, a protector, a provider.
"It's okay," Conner whispered the words against her neck, the feel of his lips moving against her skin causing another tremor to shake her. "Relax. Everything's fine. Everything's better than fine." And he gave her a grin, his dimple flashing at her for a moment, before he bent forward and scooped her into his arms.
Andie's heart took one wild swoop as Conner stepped around the couch and carried her into the bedroom. The candlelight flickered over his face, a sharp shadow slicing underneath his jaw. Andie let her head tip forward, pressed her lips to that shadow, then traced it with the tip of her tongue. Conner's arms tightened around her and she heard the sharp intake of his breath, the pace of his heartbeat speeding at her touch, and suddenly she forgot her nerves. She forgot everything but the moment, the man and the unbearable, aching romance of it.
Conner let her legs swing down, let her body take a slow and luxurious slide along his, until they were both gasping for breath as they stood there on the carpet, staring at each other.
Conner turned her to face away from him and slid the zipper of her dress down a few inches, before leaning forward to let his lips skim over the skin he had exposed. He did it again, and again, until the heat and pressure of them against Andie's lower back drew a soft moan from her lips. The rough rasp of his callused palms slid back up her spine, over her shoulders and down her arms, sweeping against her dress until, with a soft shoosh, it slithered down her body to pool at her feet.
Andie stood there, in the undergarments Conner had picked out, her back to him. Suddenly, she was afraid. Afraid to turn around and face him. Afraid to take the next step. And most of all, afraid of the vulnerability that would come after. She hated herself for it, for the weakness and the fear, but even as she hated, it didn't do one thing to diminish it.
"Andie." Conner wrapped his arms around her, letting his hands rest against her stomach, holding her close, sheltering her. "It's okay. I promise."
"I know." But still she stood there, biting her lip as she fought with it, fought with the sheer terror of giving herself to another person, of letting someone in that far, of exposing herself to the possible pain that might cause.
But then his lips were at the nape of her neck, the slightly-too-long sweep of his hair tickling the skin of her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing slow circles under her belly button. She wasn't fighting anymore, wasn't thinking anymore. All she could feel was pleasure, and heat, and the pure, unadulterated rightness of the moment. Of him.
So she turned in his arms, until she faced him, until she could see the hunger he felt for her in the tight skin around his eyes, in the tension he held in his shoulders. Until she could see the way his gaze swept her barely clothed body, taking in all of her. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his fingers convulsing lightly on her hips like he wanted to drag her against him.
He ripped the shirt over his head, then went completely still as her hands skimmed over his skin. His eyes were dark now, so dark that they might have been black, as he looked down at her pale fingers against his honey colored skin.
Conner cupped her face with both hands. His mouth teased hers, nipped at hers, as she let her hands roam the hard contours of his back. His mouth slid lower and lower, his head nestled against her chest, until his tongue swept under the rim of creamy material covering one breast. And Andie's knees turned to water.
Conner caught her, lowered her to the bed, his body settling heavily against her side. The wind pounded against the windows, and even safe and warm in their cocoon of candlelight, Andie could hear the harsh, metallic ring of the sailboats' rigging as it slapped against their metal masts.
"Conner. Please," she said. The words were jagged and she could hear the note of pleading underneath them. And she didn't care. All she knew was that she felt like she had waited for this moment, for this man, for eleven years. She couldn't wait any longer. She arched into him, felt him slide home.
Conner's breath was a harsh rasp in his throat, and she could feel the tremors racing through his arms as he fought his impulses, as he fought to keep things slow.
Stillness fell over both of them for a moment. Andie stared up at Conner, at the dark swirl of emotions in his eyes, as the purest, most powerful pleasure she'd ever felt soared through her, shivered through every inch of her body, curled into the very core of her heart.
And then they we're moving, they're bodies sinking into a perfect rhythm, their hearts beating in unison. The sweet smell of vanilla and candle smoke filled the air as the spiraling need grew hotter, more desperate, until Andie thought she couldn't bear it anymore. The air around them seemed to turn hazy, then suddenly crystal clear, as Andie gave a harsh little cry and her body plunged over the razor sharp edge of pleasure. With a loud groan, Conner followed her over.