EXCERPT Griffin was back in the garden, but now it was neatly kept. The roses were no less full of blooms but now they were pruned to take advantage of their natural shapes and growing patterns. Strings of miniature lights hung above giving a soft glow on the tables and chairs that filled the area. And this time, Griffin wasn’t alone. He was there. First she could feel him, standing behind her as she sat at the table, his hands warm and strong on her shoulders. He was laughing as if she’d just said something very funny. Then he leaned down and dragged his lips along the side of her neck, sending shivers of electric heat through her. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, then moved around and pulled her to her feet. Griffin looked into his dark eyes, smoldering with desire, and she lifted her hands to trace his face. Such a beautiful face, dark, rough with stubble. His lips were full and soft, turned up in a hesitant smile. Thick, black fringes framed dark gray eyes. She drew her fingers down his lean cheeks, over the hint of cleft in his chin, and down his throat, coming to stop where the dark hair began on his breast bone. Wide, strong shoulders, a broad chest that narrowed to a trim waist. Arms sculpted with muscle that rippled as his arms encompassed her and pulled her close. He smelled of sun-kissed male skin and the hint of musk. His heart thudded inside, a comforting feel against her cheek. Her hands slid down and around him and she relaxed in his embrace. As they stood, entwined, she could feel the hardness of his erection under his jeans. Her pulse sped up in response, knowing, expecting, longing for what was next. "Mark. . ." "Hmmm?" It was more a rumble than a sound. "Would you make love to me?" He pulled back, holding her at arms length. "Here?" "Yes, here." Mark smiled and shook his head. "No, princess, not here. But soon, I promise." He pulled her back against him, bringing his hand up to loosen the scarf that held her hair back. Then, his hands tangled in her hair and he lifted her chin. His lips found hers then, but barely, almost reverently. "Thank God you’re finally here," he whispered. Then, he lowered his lips to hers again, this time claiming her mouth with his. Her knees nearly gave out with the heat and passion that filled her. His kiss was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Not only that, but she’d never sensed the well-being she did now. Though she wanted him with an urgency that nearly took her breath away, contentment and satisfaction swept through her. Thank God she was finally here. ***** I woke at the sound of a nearby siren, the drapes in my bedroom sucked toward the screen at the pull of the breeze. None of it seemed to make it into the room as I was covered with a fine sweat and badly tangled in the sheets. The clock said three-oh-four. My heart raced from the dream and I lay perfectly still, trying to reach back and feel him, feel his lips on mine, feel the joy of being with him. Mark. I didn’t know any Mark and yet I knew him. Another siren drew near - the throatier sound of a fire engine - then faded away. I untangled the sheets and got up, padding to the bathroom in my bare feet. Ladies don’t go barefoot. I flipped on the bathroom light and looked in the mirror. My hair hung around my face and shoulders in a cloud. Had I not braided it before bed? I normally did. It sure wasn’t braided now, was it? Grabbing the glass by the sink, I got a drink, then went back to bed. I don’t think I went back to sleep. I tried. I closed my eyes, hoping to ease back into the garden, into the dream, into Mark’s arms. Soon, he’d said. He’d promised.
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