Nancy Warren - Perfect Timing - Those Were the Days / Pistols at Dawn / Time After Time

He drove her to the edge like that, and she moaned against his mouth, her hands tight against his chest until she couldn’t stand it any longer. With a sharp sigh, she slid onto him, impaling herself on the length of him. She arched back and moaned. His throaty groan matching hers, and his hands reached for her, cupping and stroking her breasts even as his hips rose and fell in a rhythmic motion that matched hers.

They fell into a pattern full of wild and desperate need, more and more until, at last, the world exploded around her and she sagged against him, totally spent.

He was, she realized, still hard. He started to ease her over, but she shook her head, spooning up tight against him. “Later,” she whispered, even as fatigue took over.

She thought he might argue, might fight her for this moment of control. But he didn’t. Instead, he pressed tight against her, his hands softly stroking her back. She felt safe in his arms. Safe and right and free of her demons.

And with that thought, she drifted to sleep, secure in Tucker’s arms.

“MORE TEA, MR. GREENE?” Anna asked, holding the teapot as if she were determined to pour whether Tucker wanted more or not. He didn’t, actually, but neither did he want to leave the patio yet. After an incredible evening with Sylvia, then falling asleep in each other’s arms, he’d awakened quite alone.

Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what to think. The woman had taken over their lovemaking, a scenario that had thrilled him more than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t quite gotten all that he’d wanted out of the encounter, though, and he’d ended up taking a cold shower after she’d drifted off.

Despite the cold shower, he’d awakened this morning hoping that his own satisfaction was on the agenda, only to be disappointed by the discovery that she’d disappeared during the night.

He’d come down to breakfast, hoping to see her here, and instead found only his sister.

Though once again frustrated, he supposed it was for the best that she’d sneaked back to her room, especially since Blythe had announced to Tucker that she’d popped her head into Sylvia’s room and told her where to find them for breakfast. As soon as his sister had told him that, Tucker had slowed down his attack on his poached eggs and toast, hoping she would appear before he finished his breakfast.

So far, he was eating by himself.

He shot a glance at his sister and amended the thought. Not by himself, but also not with the woman with whom he wanted to be.

“If you keep staring at the door, she’ll never come,” Blythe said, a teasing smile dancing across her expression.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Tucker said, reaching for the newspaper.

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