Silent Weekend

“Don't give me that kind of power, Clay,” she instructed him quietly, when their lips had parted, her fingers trailing gently over his face. “I don't deserve it.”

He smiled down at her ruefully. “It's too late, Sarah; you already have it. There's nothing I can do about it now, it's completely out of my hands.”

She smiled wanly, still troubled by the idea.

“Besides,” he murmured softly, as he leaned down to sprinkle kisses on her nose, her cheek, her forehead, her chin. “If you don't deserve it, I don't know who does.”

“Well, that's true,” she murmured back, her tone dry, her eyes sliding shut once more as his lips got reacquainted with her features. “After all, who else would put up with you?”

He stopped in surprise at her comment. “What!”

But she only grinned up at him. And, framing his face with her hands, she murmured, “I just want you to know that I'll put up with you for as long as you want me.”

“As long as all that?” he asked her tenderly.

She nodded solemnly. “As long as all that.”

He gathered her to him once more, cradling her against him. “Then you'd better be prepared for the long haul, Sarah. Because I don't see any end to my wanting you.”

“Good,” she said with a small sigh, as she burrowed against him, a delicious kind of lassitude suddenly washing over her. “I'd hate for the man I love to get tired of me.”

“Not a chance. Not a chance in hell of that.”

She kissed him softly, just above his collarbone, in the hollow there where she could feel his pulse beating strongly against her lips. “Hmm. That's what I hoped you'd say. ‘Cause, to be completely honest, I just don't see how I could ever bear to let you go.”

“Is that a fact?” he asked, his voice rumbling in his chest, beneath her ear. She could hear both the pleasure and amusement in his tone.

“Mmmm-hmm,” she told him, a bit sleepily. “Don't forget, I shot and killed one husband, and I can do it again.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, kissing the top of her head as his hands smoothed over her shoulders and her back. “You've got me shaking now, Sarah.”

“No, I don't,” she said, with a hint of mischief in her voice, as her fingers trailed lightly over his chest. “But give me a few minutes to recover, and I'll see what I can do.”

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