Friday, May 1, 2015
As she took off her clothes he put his hands behind his head and watched her every movement. Each one was poetry in motion to his way of thinking. To him, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He loved her so deeply he felt it in his soul. She was everything to him and he wanted to be everything to her. His heart was filled with such peace, his body with such longing, he could barely contain the feelings.
The last piece of clothing she removed was her panties and when she turned to the bed, he whistled in appreciation. As he had at the two motels they’d stayed at on the way to the cabin, he pretended not to notice the healing bruises covering her sweet body.
“Will you get under the covers?” she asked. She sat on the mattress, then stuck her legs under the sheet.
“Hey. You can leave your socks on but you took mine off?” he challenged. “You think that’s fair?”
“I have poor circulation in my feet,” she said. “Believe me. You don’t want my cold toesies rubbing along your calf in the middle of the night.”
“I believe you should pay a toll for being allowed to wear socks to bed when I can’t,” he told her as he joined her under the covers.
“What kind of toll?” she asked.
“The kind that is exacting,” he said. He slid down in the bed—disappearing beneath the covers—and slid on top of her.
About the Author:
Under the Mayhaw Tree is her 100th book. Over the years, her novels have won many awards. When asked why she writes, she's said, "I write because the urge is there and it's like an itch you can not ignore.
Sometimes, I think if I don't get my thoughts down on paper, I'll go insane. It is a craving, an addiction, that unless you experience it, you can't quite explain to 'normal' people."