Fast & Loose by Elizabeth Bevarly (best classic books to read txt) 📗

meet him, matching his rhythm and gradually escalating it. And then he was coming inside her, and she was crying his name, and he was saying, “I love you, Bree,” and she was saying, “I love you, too.” Then he was lying in bed beside her, one arm curved protectively around her shoulders, the other hand tangled in her hair, and she was curling her entire body into his.

And never in her life had Bree felt safer or more secure.

RUFUS LAY IN HIS BED BESIDE BREE, ELBOW BENT ON the mattress, chin resting in hand, watching her sleep. He’d woken at five, nearly an hour ago, feeling sated and rested and content, in spite of having enjoyed what couldn’t have been more than a few hours of sleep. Now, the sun was just starting to come up, a slender ribbon of pale yellow light slipping through the curtains and slanting across the bed, leaving a stripe of illumination across Bree’s naked back. She lay on her stomach beside him, the sheet draped low enough to reveal the slope of her delectable derriere. Her black hair was a pile of tumbled silk on the pillow behind her, and one hand was curled loosely on this side of the pillow in front of her face.

He had always thought her the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. But in this moment, totally relaxed in the aftermath of a night of spectacular loving, she took his breath away.

How could she think she could share moments like this with someone who didn’t deserve them? Who didn’t deserve her? Rufus had done everything he could last night to show her how good life could be with the most basic necessities. How could she want more than what the two of them had shared in this house? What more was there than what the two of them had shared in this house? She had everything she needed right here.

Of course, that wasn’t the problem, he knew. It wasn’t her own needs Bree was worried about. It was her mother’s.

He didn’t know why she had come back last night after leaving. At the moment, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that she had come back. That she had told him—and shown him—she loved him as much as he loved her. And that she was still here when he woke up this morning. Now all he had to do was show her there was no reason for her to ever leave again.

As if cued by the thought, she began to stir, inhaling deeply and releasing the breath slowly, in a way he could only describe as contented. It was a good sign. Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again, then opened once more. It took her a moment to focus, to remember where she was, and he waited for signs of panic or embarrassment or regret. When her gaze finally found his, though, she smiled. Then she pushed her hand across the mattress and curled her fingers affectionately around his arm.

“Good morning,” he said quietly as he covered her hand with his.

In response, she only murmured a soft, satisfied sound and closed her eyes again.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he told her, “but I wasn’t expecting anyone for breakfast, so the pickings there are pretty slim.”

Her eyes still closed, she said, “I find that hard to believe.”

“What? That I forgot to stock up on Wheaties?”

She smiled. “No. That you weren’t expecting anyone for breakfast.”

He smiled, too. “Let’s just say last night was a very pleasant surprise.”

She opened her eyes again. “It was, wasn’t it?”

Telling himself not to do it, because he didn’t want to risk ruining the moment, he said anyway, “Do you remember saying what you did?”

She studied him in silence for a moment, and he waited to see if she would use the question as an out. Either say no, she didn’t remember saying anything, or claim that what she’d said was the sort of thing everyone said in the heat of a moment like that.

Instead, she said, “I remember telling you that I love you.”

His gaze fixed on hers, but he said nothing.

“And I do love you, Rufus.”

He would have been relieved if it hadn’t been for the fact that she delivered the news in a tone of voice that was generally postscripted with a but.

“But,” she said, and his gut clenched tight again, “it isn’t that simple.”

Oh, well, if that was the only objection she had, then there was no problem. Because that was the beautiful thing about love. It was the easiest, most uncomplicated thing in the world.

He kissed her on the crown of her head, then levered himself off the bed. He looked around for his clothes of the night before, but could only find his blue jeans. So he pulled those on commando style, loving the way her eyes darkened as she watched him do it.

“C’mon,” he said as he zipped the fly and extended a hand to her. “I want to show you something.”

She didn’t move, only narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

But all he said was, “It’s something I wanted to show you last night. C’mon.”

She started to glance around for her clothes, too, reaching for a pair of panties that were puddled on the floor where they’d fallen. Before she could snag them, Rufus tossed her a T-shirt from the laundry basket sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. “That’ll cover as much as you need covered,” he told her with a smile. “And it’ll be easier to get off again later.”

“Rufus…” she said. But her voice held none of the mild irritation she used to use when she uttered his name after he made a vaguely suggestive comment. Instead, she kind of purred his name this time.

It boded well for the future, he thought. Which was good. Because the future was what he wanted to talk to her about.

She pulled the T-shirt over her head, and when she climbed out of bed,