Her Immortal Love by Diana Castle Page B

to trust him. Needed to trust him. She couldn’t go through the rest of her life afraid to trust. Afraid to live.
    She nodded, her stomach whirling like a blender on the liquefy setting. He lowered his head until his lips met hers. She hadn’t kissed a man since her marriage to Douglas ended. She initially stiffened, even as Tristan’s warm, firm mouth demanded a response from her.
    Slowly, she slid her arms about his waist and pressed her body against his. He held her tighter, his kiss deepening. He grabbed the bottom of the shirt he’d given her to wear and slid it up her hips. He moved his hands over her rear, kneading and caressing the cheeks, his tongue easing slowly between her lips.
    Lydia moaned. It had been a while since she’d felt the touch of a man's hands on her body. And his tongue! He pushed it lustfully into her mouth and rolled it around with a delectable agility that was downright sinful. Dipping his hands to the small of her back, his fingers lightly grazed the soft skin. Her pulse skyrocketed, her knees loosening like water. Only his strong arms around her kept her from falling to the floor.
    Breaking their kiss, he quickly unbuttoned her shirt and slid his hands up her waist to her bra. He cupped her breasts and rasped his thumbs across her nipples. They swelled and tightened.
    “You are so beautiful, Lydia,” he murmured. “So very beautiful.”
    She wanted to believe him. But on that day she’d finally confronted Douglas with irrefutable evidence of his affair, he bluntly told her that the reason he’d started seeing a younger woman was because she no longer excited him sexually.
    Despite the months that had passed since he’d flung those hurtful words at her and in spite of Saffron's repeated attempts to convince her otherwise, Lydia could not help but see herself as Douglas had.
    Old.
    Tristan must have seen the doubt in her eyes. “You don't believe me.”
    She shook her head and looked down. He gently took hold of her chin and raised her face back to his. “Come with me.”
    He took her by the hand and led her to the door he’d gone through earlier. It opened into a hallway. To the left she heard the whir and bump of a washing machine.
    He guided her down the hall, past another bathroom and into a bedroom. A huge bed covered with a burgundy and gold bedspread dominated the room, which included a large-screen television that hung on the wall and a desk upon which sat a computer. There were paintings here also and another bookshelf, though not as large as the one in the front room.
    He opened a huge walk-in closet. His clothes and shoes were neatly arranged on hangers and shelves. A far cry from the chaos that had been Douglas’s closet. A full-length mirror hung on the door.
    He positioned her in front of it. “Look at yourself.”
    She did. But she couldn’t help but wince.
    He slid the shirt off her shoulders and tossed it on the floor. He undid her bra, his eyes on hers in the mirror. Moving his hands over her naked breasts, he caressed them, the tips of his fingers sliding over their smooth plumpness.
    She stared, transfixed, at his hands as they roamed over her body; her shoulders and breasts and hips and thighs.
    He whispered in her ear. “I want so much to make love to you. Can't you feel how much I want you?” The bulge of his thick erection pressed against the curve of her buttocks.
    Her heart pounded erratically and she gently pushed her ass against his groin. He smiled at her reflection. “The body of a goddess. To be worshipped and adored, to give pleasure and to be pleasured.”
    He slid his hand around her hips and pressed it against the front of her panties. “Here is where life is nurtured.”
    She bit her lip. He had no idea she was barren.
    He moved his hands up her stomach and cupped her breasts. “And here is where that life draws its strength.’
    His voice took on a lovely lilt, the words flowing from his mouth like a blessing. He moved his hands up to her