“Is it
gone?”
“Yes. It’s over, for now.”
She
opened her eyes and looked at him, tears welling up inside them. “Is it okay if I cry now?” Without waiting for an answer, she burrowed
her head into his shoulder and began to weep.
Richard
closed his arms protectively about her for a fraction of a second and then
leaned into his need. He wanted to
shelter her, protect her, and consume her. She belonged nowhere else but in his arms. She felt right. He held her tighter, with tenderness,
aware that this sudden need was irrational, alien to his nature. He rocked her gently, letting her weep
away the tension and the fear, uncaring of his own discomfort, rubbing his
cheek against the softness of her hair.
His back was straining from the effort of keeping her balanced on his
shoulder, but he didn’t mind. All
he cared about was that she felt good, her delicate perfume pervading his
senses.
Richard shifted his body
and nestled her closer still, not analyzing his behavior.
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