Читать книгу Westin's Wyoming - Alice Sharpe - Страница 2

A scream died on her lips as the shadowy figure looming over her turned into a familiar one.

“Pierce!”

“I thought you were dead,” he said, and then she was in his arms, tears she’d fought for so long running freely down her face.

He held on to her as though she was a mirage and he was afraid if he let go she’d disappear.

And then he was leaning back and she knew he was trying to see her through the dim light and she knew it didn’t matter if they were blurs to each other. In the next instant, he’d pulled her back against him and, cupping her face in his hands, kissed her lips.

His face was rough with stubble and cold from the snow and it felt wonderful against her skin. He felt real, and his kiss was the fabric of fantasy. Happiness welled inside her like an untamed artisanal well, tickling her from the inside out with the delirious feeling of safety she’d thought she’d never again experience.