Masters of the Shadowlands 7 - This is who I am by Sinclair Cherise Page A

a guy, and that’s how men think about orgasms.”
    The sense of being forgiven was like stepping into the warmth of a Florida sun after being in dry air-conditioning. “I should have thought more carefully.”
    “It’s okay. It wasn’t a place where you had time to think.”
    “True.” He closed his eyes, remembering the noise—crying and screaming. The auctioneer playing to the buyers’ debased demands. The despair in the room had been a swamp, pulling him down. The stench of fear and sick lust had made it difficult to breathe, harder not to be sick. “It gave me nightmares too, girl.”
     
    WHAT A THING for a strong man to admit. Linda rolled her forehead against his shoulder. With a half laugh, he moved to lie flat on his back and pulled her down beside him. His muscles rippled as he arranged her so her cheek rested on his shoulder. His arms were iron bands around her, holding her closely, and the remnants of the nightmare melted in the warmth of his body.
    How long had it been since she’d let herself be snuggled? Long before the kidnapping. Not with that jerk Dwayne—she’d just wanted him gone. And sweet as Lee was, he didn’t cuddle.
    This was…nice. She breathed in the clean fragrance of his shirt, and deeper, his masculine scent, and squirmed closer. But when she flung her left leg over his, she bumped into a hard erection. An appalled sound escaped her, and she tensed.
    “Girl.” The single chastising word somehow conveyed an entire speech of how he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want and how guys get erections and she was being silly. All in one word.
    A tiny laugh escaped her, because that was so…Sam. She’d seen the way he watched her, how he desired her, yet he never made her feel sleazy or dirty. Just…wanted. “Sam, I—”
    “Go to sleep. Morning comes soon enough.”
    The hint of amusement and the stillness of his body eased the last of her worry, and she obeyed, letting the sense of safety tumble her into slumber.
    * * * *
    Sunlight through the curtains wakened her. He was gone, and she’d had her best sleep in months. The sheets still held his scent, and she pulled the pillow to her, breathing in all that was Sam. Feeling her body waken. Dampen. Come alive.
    * * * *
    That evening, Linda slipped into bed, the coolness of the sheets contrasting with her warm body. All day, she’d felt as if her body was playing a song like Pachelbel’s “Canon”…and the melody with all its variations and repetitions was named desire.
    When Sam had arrived that evening, the entire orchestra joined in.
    And now she was ready. Surely she was.
    After getting home from work, she’d taken a long bubble bath, then shaved her legs and underarms…and her pussy. She smiled, remembering her first awkward attempt at shaving down there—after her best friend had asked Linda if she intended to mourn her husband forever. That week, so long ago, she’d had her hair restyled, changed her makeup, bought brighter clothing, and…shaved. For the first time since Frederick’s death, she had felt like a woman.
    She certainly felt like a woman tonight. After Sam had arrived, Linda had fixed supper and scolded him for cutting the carrots too small. His swift grin had set up a beat low in her pelvis. When she’d talked him into playing guitar with her, the sight of his strong fingers wrapped around the neck of the guitar had mesmerized her. When he had picked out a scary movie, she’d agreed, wanting only a reason to burrow into him on the couch.
    Every breath had held his scent of the crisp outdoors. Whole and right. And the buzz of awareness that said she was with a man—one she wanted—had never faded.
    When the time grew late, he hadn’t confused her with choices. Far too experienced in reading women—in reading her—he’d pulled her to her feet and told her to get ready for bed. That he’d be in soon.
    Under the covers, she waited, worries swelling and clogging her throat until she couldn’t