4th of July

Chapter 33

IT WASN’T JUST ABOUT sex with Joe. He was too real and too good a person for me to think of him as simply a hunk and a real good time. But I paid a terrible price for feeling more. At times like this, when our jobs permitted, we had an indescribable intimacy. Then morning came and Joe jetted back to Washington, and I didn’t know when I’d see him—or if it would ever feel this good—again.

It’s been said that love finds you when you’re ready.

Was I ready?

The last time I had loved a man so much, he’d died a terrible death.

And what about Joe?

He’d been scalded by a divorce. Could he ever really trust again?

Right now, as I was lying in his arms, my heart was divided between taking down all of the walls and protecting myself against the wrenching pain of our imminent separation.

“Where are you, Linds?”

“Right here. I’m here.”

I held Joe tightly, forcing myself back into the moment. We kissed and touched until being apart was unbearable and we joined together again, a perfect fit. I moaned and told Joe how good he felt—how good he was.

“I love you, Linds,” he murmured.

I was saying his name and telling him that I loved him when waves of pleasure overtook me and I allowed all of my scared, undermining thoughts to go away.

We held each other for a long time afterward, just catching our breath, getting a grip on our spinning world, when the doorbell rang.

“Shit,” I said. “Pretend it’s not happening.”

“Gotta get the door,” said Joe softly. “It could be for me.”