Having Faith by Barbara Delinsky Page A

legs.
    Then, while he ran his hands over the parts of her body that were newly uncovered, she hurriedly worked at his jeans.
    His zipper was more difficult to lower than hers had been. He was fully aroused, and while that hindered her progress, the discovery excited her beyond belief. No sooner was his fly open when she slipped both hands into his briefs and found the heat waiting there.
    "Oh my," she murmured.
    "Oh my."
    "" Oh my' is right," he growled. Tumbling her backward onto the carpet, he quickly shucked his pants. He had to be inside her. There wasn't any doubt in his mind that if he didn't make it fast, he'd die of frustration. Her thighs were open. She rose to meet him when he came between them, and when he entered her, she cried out.
    It was the heat. He knew because he felt it himself. It was the heat and the moisture and the wine that made her sheathing so perfect. He tried to savor it, tried to move in and out with the proper understanding of how well she fit him, but he didn't have the patience. He was burning from the inside out, and the only way to fight that was to surge hard and deep toward fulfillment.
    Faith was with him all the way. She goaded him on with the movement of her hips, her legs, her restless hands. Their bodies grew damp with sweat, and the sweat mingled. They drove each other ever higher. And when he reached the release he sought, the spasms of his body beat against and between her throbbing.
    That should have been the end of it. They should have fallen apart on the floor, done in by drink or exhaustion or sheer bliss. Somehow, it didn't work that way. They did lie there for a minute until they'd caught their breath. But then it was as if they forgot they'd climaxed. Sawyer was still hard inside her, and when he began to move, she gasped in delight.
    It took longer this time. Their movements were slower, more drugged, but no less pleasurable. After a time, it was hard to tell where one peak ended and the next began.
    Faith came awake very reluctantly the next morning. On the one hand, things were as always. She was in her bed, where she was every morning when the sun rose over the harbor and skipped sideways into her window. On the other hand, things were different.
    Her head hurt, for starters. She discovered that when she tried to move it around on the pillow. Her eyes hurt, too. She opened them a slit, immediately realized her mistake and shut them again.
    And she was naked. The sheets felt different against bare skin. Moving a hand to her ribs, she confirmed the finding, but that didn't make it any easier to understand. She never slept naked. She was usually too cold for that. Winter or summer, it didn't matter, she always wore something, preferably long-sleeved and ankle length, to bed.
    She was warm, though, and for an instant she wondered whether she'd set the electric blanket higher than usual. But she didn't have the electric blanket on. At least she didn't think she did. It was still in storage. And yet she was warm. Gingerly exploring that warmth, she moved her leg. In the process, she discovered two things.
    The first was that her muscles hurt. Not just any old muscles, but those in her legs. To be exact, those in her thighs.
    The second was that she wasn't alone. Her foot had hit something solid. It was the source of the heat, she knew. She also knew that it had been well over a year since she'd shared a bed with Jack. She hadn't shared a bed with any other person since.
    Momentarily ignoring the pounding in her head and the ache around her eyes, she forced herself to look at the side of the double bed that was usually vacant. It wasn't vacant now. A head capped with dark, rumpled hair was in possession of the second pillow. Just below that head was a sine wed neck, below that a pair of broad shoulders, below that a smoothly muscled back that held remnants of a tan.
    Unable to take her eyes from that back, Faith took in a quick breath and sat up. She clutched the sheet to her