When she encounters a young man drowning himself in books, tucked into the corner at the Woodward County Library, kind-hearted Regan grows curious to know why he's there every day, and more important, she wants to know if he needs help. Not libraria...
His smile was accompanied by a happy blush on his cheeks. Then he changed the subject abruptly. "I want to make love to you again. And this time, I want to do it right. Are you still safe?"
"Yes, I'm good. Did we do it wrong last time?" I asked a little cheekily.
"No." The vibrations of his light laughter traveled through my whole body as he held me close. "I just want to take my time with you and not rush anything. You should have had that the first time, but I didn't know."
"It's fine, Harry. Don't worry about it, please. I wouldn't change a thing."
"Okay," he smiled, finally convinced.
I put on some soft jazz music, and my heart and my gut were going crazy with the anticipation of the intimate connection we had only shared once before.
Once inside my room with the curtains drawn, Harry kissed me softly. Slowly. Seductively. His hands caressed my face, my arms, my back, my sides while his lips caressed mine, an experience that was at the same time thrilling and comforting. My heart wasn't sure whether to beat in a slow, melodic way, in time with the music, or if it should be pounding with desire in response to the way Harry touched me.
I tugged Harry's sweater up, without breaking the kiss, and I ran my hands over his smooth skin, imagining where my fingers might be stroking over his ink designs. He seemed to enjoy it because he sang his approval into our kiss. After exploring blindly, I needed to see his tattoos again. I pulled the sweater up until it cut off our kiss, and when I yanked it over his head, his hair fell messily around his face, making him even more handsome somehow.
Since the moth was the tattoo I was immediately drawn to, I asked about that one first. "Why did you choose a moth? And why here?" I drifted my fingers over the design.
"There's no real hidden meaning. I just liked the look of a butterfly, but it looks more like a moth since it's resting with its wings flat and a butterfly rests with its wings up."
"Oh, okay," I said, laughing a little at the simplicity of his reasoning. "I'm sure some of your other designs have meaning, though," I said as I ran my hand over one of the sparrows on his collarbones.
"Yeah," he replied, his voice going soft. "Sparrows symbolize undying love and commitment to someone." He bit his lip and looked down at me nervously.
"So, those are for you and Cathryn," I whispered.
"Mmhmm," he confirmed. Then he took my hand away from the sparrow and kissed my fingertips. "Don't think about that right now," he said in a gravelly whisper. "Let's just think about you and me."
I nodded, trying to chase away that funny feeling that I was intruding on someone else's marriage. She was gone and Harry was here right in front of me, but now I would always be reminded of her when I looked at the sparrows on his chest. Every time we had sex, they would be right in front of me. I wished I hadn't asked.
Harry sensed that I was retreating into my thoughts rather than focusing on the moment before us. "Hey," he said, lifting my chin so I would look at him. "What's going through your head?"
"I love you," I said. "But it still feels like it's wrong to be with you for some reason. I mean, I know she's gone, and I assume that she would want you to move on. But still, I'm sleeping with her husband."
He sighed, and pulled me against him, my face nestling against his bare skin. "I can't ask you not to feel that way because I get it, you know. I just want you to know that I mean it when I say I love you and that I want this with you."
I looked up at him and smiled, saying, "Okay." I pushed away my doubts and pulled him down to kiss me again, thrusting my fingers into his hair while he slipped his hands under my shirt. We were more deliberate about undressing this time, taking time to explore each other more.
By the way he carefully removed every piece of clothing and examined every curve and divot, Harry made me feel like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. I soon forgot anything and everything about his late wife and my focus was centered on him alone. Every movement he made was fluid and gentle, caring for me as if I was the only woman in the world.
Although I was sincere when I told Harry I wouldn't change anything about our first night together, this was how I had always imagined my first time would be, slow, intentional, meaningful. As Harry moved over me and into me, I experienced his love as something that I had heard of in theory but never quite understood. He was giving all of himself to me and it made me feel bonded to him in a way I never imagined possible. Where earlier I had been somewhat taken aback by his hint about providing for me, now I could completely envision us together forever. Something about this union seemed to be made for that, for the unique expression of commitment from husband to wife and vice versa, and suddenly I felt like I was treading on sacred ground.
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