That’s just the way I am. I don’t need friends.”
In truth, Annie had wondered if they might be right. Would she turn out like her mother? Would she suddenly snap and retreat into a world of her own, a world filled with fears and paranoia one day and giddy euphoria the next? A world where she couldn’t distinguish reality from fantasy?
“Everyone needs friends,” Rourke said. “You do. I think you’d like to have people smile at you when you walk into the hardware store, or wave at you from across the street.”
Annie stood up, wrapping the quilt more tightly around her naked body. “Can we stop with the psychoanalysis, Dr. Freud?” She snatched her coffee mug from the hearth and walked over to the sink. “Just because you made me breakfast doesn’t mean you can tell me how to live my life.”
Rourke followed her to the kitchen, slipping his arms around her waist and slowly turning her to face him. He took the edges of the quilt between his fingers and slowly parted the faded patchwork, revealing her body beneath.
Annie shivered as the quilt dropped onto the plank floor. Slowly, he drew his hands over her naked body, smoothing the gentle curve of her shoulders and the length of her arms, then moving up from her waist to her breasts. Her breath caught when he teased at her nipples with his thumbs, the cold and his caress drawing them to a hard peak.
“Do you want me to leave?” he whispered, his head dipping lower to steal a quick kiss. “I’ll leave, just say the word.”
His hand slipped from her breast and, palm flat, skimmed down her stomach to the spot between her legs. He teased her there, with a gentle flick of his fingers, and Annie closed her eyes at the wave of sensation that raced through her. With every other man, she’d been able to maintain her self-control. Why was Rourke Quinn different? Why did her body seem to crave his touch?
“Say the word,” he repeated, his fingers gently rubbing between the soft folds of her sex.
“No,” she gasped, leaning against him as a wave of pleasure washed over her. “Don’t leave.”
* * *
T HE STORM CONTINUED through the day, the rain battering the cottage and the wind whistling through the shutters. They stayed in bed, taking the time to test the boundaries of their desire for each other.
Rourke was surprised at how uninhibited Annie was when it came to sex. Though she refused to surrender to emotion, she didn’t have any problem surrendering to passion. Most women couldn’t tell the two apart, but Annie had a firm grasp on that. Unfortunately, he was finding the task a bit more difficult than usual.
It was hard not to feel something for her. She had an empty spot deep inside her heart and he just wanted to fill it with good feelings, with happiness and contentment, with optimism. She deserved at least that much after such a difficult childhood. But who was he to swoop in and try to change her life with just a few nights in bed?
Her naked body was curled up against his, her fingers splayed on his chest. He turned his face into her silky hair and drew a deep breath. She smelled of lavender soap and wood smoke.
Rourke closed his eyes. There was no reason he couldn’t stay a little longer. He had a place to live until he decided what to do with his uncle’s cottage and he wasn’t anxious to get back to New York. He’d sublet his apartment until after the holidays and had planned to camp out on a friend’s sofa until he’d decided what to do next. Why not do his deciding here?
Annie stirred beside him and her hand slipped beneath the quilt, resting on his belly. “Are you awake?” she whispered.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I thought so. I could hear the wheels turning in your head.” She pushed up on her elbow and looked down at him, her expression sleepy and satisfied. “You think too much.”
Rourke reached out and tucked her tumbled hair behind her ear. “Yeah, well, I guess that’s the way I’m wired. Am I supposed to not care
In truth, Annie had wondered if they might be right. Would she turn out like her mother? Would she suddenly snap and retreat into a world of her own, a world filled with fears and paranoia one day and giddy euphoria the next? A world where she couldn’t distinguish reality from fantasy?
“Everyone needs friends,” Rourke said. “You do. I think you’d like to have people smile at you when you walk into the hardware store, or wave at you from across the street.”
Annie stood up, wrapping the quilt more tightly around her naked body. “Can we stop with the psychoanalysis, Dr. Freud?” She snatched her coffee mug from the hearth and walked over to the sink. “Just because you made me breakfast doesn’t mean you can tell me how to live my life.”
Rourke followed her to the kitchen, slipping his arms around her waist and slowly turning her to face him. He took the edges of the quilt between his fingers and slowly parted the faded patchwork, revealing her body beneath.
Annie shivered as the quilt dropped onto the plank floor. Slowly, he drew his hands over her naked body, smoothing the gentle curve of her shoulders and the length of her arms, then moving up from her waist to her breasts. Her breath caught when he teased at her nipples with his thumbs, the cold and his caress drawing them to a hard peak.
“Do you want me to leave?” he whispered, his head dipping lower to steal a quick kiss. “I’ll leave, just say the word.”
His hand slipped from her breast and, palm flat, skimmed down her stomach to the spot between her legs. He teased her there, with a gentle flick of his fingers, and Annie closed her eyes at the wave of sensation that raced through her. With every other man, she’d been able to maintain her self-control. Why was Rourke Quinn different? Why did her body seem to crave his touch?
“Say the word,” he repeated, his fingers gently rubbing between the soft folds of her sex.
“No,” she gasped, leaning against him as a wave of pleasure washed over her. “Don’t leave.”
* * *
T HE STORM CONTINUED through the day, the rain battering the cottage and the wind whistling through the shutters. They stayed in bed, taking the time to test the boundaries of their desire for each other.
Rourke was surprised at how uninhibited Annie was when it came to sex. Though she refused to surrender to emotion, she didn’t have any problem surrendering to passion. Most women couldn’t tell the two apart, but Annie had a firm grasp on that. Unfortunately, he was finding the task a bit more difficult than usual.
It was hard not to feel something for her. She had an empty spot deep inside her heart and he just wanted to fill it with good feelings, with happiness and contentment, with optimism. She deserved at least that much after such a difficult childhood. But who was he to swoop in and try to change her life with just a few nights in bed?
Her naked body was curled up against his, her fingers splayed on his chest. He turned his face into her silky hair and drew a deep breath. She smelled of lavender soap and wood smoke.
Rourke closed his eyes. There was no reason he couldn’t stay a little longer. He had a place to live until he decided what to do with his uncle’s cottage and he wasn’t anxious to get back to New York. He’d sublet his apartment until after the holidays and had planned to camp out on a friend’s sofa until he’d decided what to do next. Why not do his deciding here?
Annie stirred beside him and her hand slipped beneath the quilt, resting on his belly. “Are you awake?” she whispered.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I thought so. I could hear the wheels turning in your head.” She pushed up on her elbow and looked down at him, her expression sleepy and satisfied. “You think too much.”
Rourke reached out and tucked her tumbled hair behind her ear. “Yeah, well, I guess that’s the way I’m wired. Am I supposed to not care
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