self-assurance could have fit into a thimble with room to spare. She hadn’t been sure of anything in those days—except the one decision that had altered her life, caused her immeasurable pain. The old Maddie, she thought, was long gone and buried. Now she was strong, because of love and sweat and many, many tears. But yes, dammit, she
was
sure of herself. Well, most of the time anyway.
She turned slowly and looked at Sam. Her eyes were large, dark, shining. She wet her bottom lip, which quivered slightly beneath the touch of her tongue.
The movement grabbed Sam with a force that nearly knocked him over. Hell, what was going on here? Was Maddie a witch? He reached out and rested one hand flat on the counter.
Maddie’s voice was soft, touched with sadness when she said, “Yes, you could say I am sure of myself.”
There was nothing he could say. What he had uttered as a rebuke was picked up by Maddie andtransformed into a confession, a stirring kind of confirmation of herself. How did she do that? She twisted things, manipulated his feelings. And he didn’t like it. It translated into power—and no one had power over Sam Eastland.
Maddie had turned back to the sink to wipe a small water stain from the stainless-steel surface.
“Where does it come from, this self-confidence?” Sam asked.
She hung the towel on a small hook beside the sink and turned to walk back across the room. “Life,” she said simply.
Sam watched her every movement. He saw her pivot like a dancer, and then he spotted the small pool of water on the floor. Before he could utter a warning, her bare foot slid through the puddle, then shot out from under her as her body toppled toward him. He caught her as she fell, and pulled her up against his chest. And when she lifted her head in surprise, he was ready to do what one small but vital part of him had wanted to do for what seemed like a long, long time.
He lowered his head and kissed her. His lips parted hers ever so slightly until his tongue slipped inside and tasted the sweetness of her mouth. Her lips were moist, full, and tasted as sweet as smooth thick honey. Twisting his fingers into her braid, he pulled her closer to him, and the soft escape of her breath, tantalizing and sensuous, whispered into his mouth. Thesurge of desire was swift and fierce. His kiss deepened, his tongue exploring, his heart pounding.
Finally he released her, his hands dropping down to his sides, his chest expanding as he gulped air. He braced himself for her response: a slap across the face, a silent, defiant departure. But whatever it was, he had felt her desire keenly, a powerful match for his own. Her response had been full and animated. The simple act had split apart a lump inside of Sam, a pent-up feeling, bordering on painful. Maddie made him angry, she irritated him, and she made him swell with pulsing desire.
Straightening up, his back flat against the cool wall, he faced her. She was immobile, her arms at her sides. Her eyes were glistening, holding flashing specks of light in a sea of deep green.
“Well?” Sam said at last.
“Well, what?” she asked. The words were throaty, forced. Her eyes roamed his face while she steadied herself. And then she shrugged. “From what I’ve read about you,” she said calmly, “I’d have expected you’d be better at that.”
With that, she turned and walked calmly through the kitchen and across the living room to her sleeping bag. She hunched down, separated the downy folds of the bag, and then slid her slim body between them.
Sam stood there for a long moment staring at her, trying to focus. Emotions washed through him, one conflicting with the next: frustration, anger, desire,and several he couldn’t put names to. By the time he pulled himself together and strode across the room to the sleeping bag, she was as quiet as the night air. One arm was curled beneath her head, her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even. She was sound asleep.
Maddie
was
sure of herself. Well, most of the time anyway.
She turned slowly and looked at Sam. Her eyes were large, dark, shining. She wet her bottom lip, which quivered slightly beneath the touch of her tongue.
The movement grabbed Sam with a force that nearly knocked him over. Hell, what was going on here? Was Maddie a witch? He reached out and rested one hand flat on the counter.
Maddie’s voice was soft, touched with sadness when she said, “Yes, you could say I am sure of myself.”
There was nothing he could say. What he had uttered as a rebuke was picked up by Maddie andtransformed into a confession, a stirring kind of confirmation of herself. How did she do that? She twisted things, manipulated his feelings. And he didn’t like it. It translated into power—and no one had power over Sam Eastland.
Maddie had turned back to the sink to wipe a small water stain from the stainless-steel surface.
“Where does it come from, this self-confidence?” Sam asked.
She hung the towel on a small hook beside the sink and turned to walk back across the room. “Life,” she said simply.
Sam watched her every movement. He saw her pivot like a dancer, and then he spotted the small pool of water on the floor. Before he could utter a warning, her bare foot slid through the puddle, then shot out from under her as her body toppled toward him. He caught her as she fell, and pulled her up against his chest. And when she lifted her head in surprise, he was ready to do what one small but vital part of him had wanted to do for what seemed like a long, long time.
He lowered his head and kissed her. His lips parted hers ever so slightly until his tongue slipped inside and tasted the sweetness of her mouth. Her lips were moist, full, and tasted as sweet as smooth thick honey. Twisting his fingers into her braid, he pulled her closer to him, and the soft escape of her breath, tantalizing and sensuous, whispered into his mouth. Thesurge of desire was swift and fierce. His kiss deepened, his tongue exploring, his heart pounding.
Finally he released her, his hands dropping down to his sides, his chest expanding as he gulped air. He braced himself for her response: a slap across the face, a silent, defiant departure. But whatever it was, he had felt her desire keenly, a powerful match for his own. Her response had been full and animated. The simple act had split apart a lump inside of Sam, a pent-up feeling, bordering on painful. Maddie made him angry, she irritated him, and she made him swell with pulsing desire.
Straightening up, his back flat against the cool wall, he faced her. She was immobile, her arms at her sides. Her eyes were glistening, holding flashing specks of light in a sea of deep green.
“Well?” Sam said at last.
“Well, what?” she asked. The words were throaty, forced. Her eyes roamed his face while she steadied herself. And then she shrugged. “From what I’ve read about you,” she said calmly, “I’d have expected you’d be better at that.”
With that, she turned and walked calmly through the kitchen and across the living room to her sleeping bag. She hunched down, separated the downy folds of the bag, and then slid her slim body between them.
Sam stood there for a long moment staring at her, trying to focus. Emotions washed through him, one conflicting with the next: frustration, anger, desire,and several he couldn’t put names to. By the time he pulled himself together and strode across the room to the sleeping bag, she was as quiet as the night air. One arm was curled beneath her head, her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even. She was sound asleep.
Maddie
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