Page 64 of The Forever Christmas Tree

“War wounds,” she said, sitting atop him now as he lay splayed out on the hallway floor outside his bedroom. She still had on a bra, but her panties had vanished somewhere along the stairway. She began to ride him then, first slow, then fast, and faster.

Caught in a whirlwind.

Hang on.

Spinning.

Out of control.

Faster. Fasterfasterfaster!

Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh!

Blast off!

When he finally came to his senses, they had moved several more feet toward the open doorway of his bedroom, and he was on top now, still imbedded in the aftershocks of her climaxing muscles. He stared at her in wonder, disarmed, yet pleased by her uninhibited sensuality. Was she always that way? I can’t remember. Hell, I can’t remember my own name at the moment.

She was staring back at him through caramel-colored eyes glazed with passion, only temporarily sated. I hope. Her lips were kiss-bruised and parted. Like Botox, but better.

What was she thinking?

That I’m a good lay?

That I’m not as good as I used to be, or better?

That I’m nothing compared to those notoriously virile SEALs?

That now she finally has closure?

He knew what he was thinking.

I love you.

But he couldn’t say those words aloud. Not now. Not ever again.

Tonight was for memories. Not forever.

Love sucks . . . sometimes . . .

I love you, Wendy thought. And she was shocked. Oh, she’d known she was still attracted to Ethan. That had been apparent on their first encounter back on the ferry. But love? That had died a sudden death twelve years ago, or surely faded over time.

Or so she had believed.

Until tonight.

They’d engaged in hot, frantic, almost-embarrassing sex in the hall and on the stairs, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. And then they’d made slow love in Ethan’s bed. Both events should have been alarming to Wendy, and the intensity of her response to Ethan was shocking, but, at the same time, surprisingly satisfying. Almost fated. Inevitable. Something she wasn’t fighting anymore.

Not that she was going to tell Ethan about her suddenly realized feelings! Oh, no! That was a road she had no intention of going down. Commitment and an impossible future together lay in that direction, both of which had no place in the new and reinvented Ethan and Wendy scenario.

Still, I love you, she continued to muse as she lay on her side, propped on one elbow, staring down at his body, relaxed in sex-satiated slumber. A crisp white sheet covered him from the navel downward, but the rest of him was exposed for her private appreciation. There was a dim bedside lamp that gave the room a warm glow.

Despite being a businessman now, Ethan must still work outdoors a bit because his arms and neck and face were “farmer tanned.” She didn’t see him as the exercise club kind of grunt, but his body was well-muscled in the biceps and in the planes of his abdomen. Perhaps not the hulking muscles that some of her SEAL buddies displayed from continual grueling exercise, but a modest six-pack to be sure.

She liked that he had some dark hair on his chest, leading down a “happy trail” below the sheet. And she also liked the “five o’clock shadow” that feathered his face. But she love, love, loved those thick black lashes that lay like fans against his cheeks.

“Do you like what you see?” he murmured, opening his eyes slowly, the blueness dazzling in its intensity. His lips twitched with humor.

“Maybe,” she said, slapping at him playfully. “How long have you been awake?”