Читать книгу Warrior Without A Cause - Nancy Gideon - Страница 2

He wore a black T-shirt, heated by the filtered sun and by the skin beneath it. He smelled of the woods, fresh laundry soap and some deeply masculine aftershave. For a time she was oddly content to ride the comforting rise and fall of his breaths. He held her carefully, as if he feared she might break, or as if he was afraid too tight an embrace would serve to frighten her more. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt safe and protected.

Here was a man she wouldn’t have thought had any soft edges, soothing her hair and quieting her hitching sobs.

Her hands opened, spreading wide and not coming close to encompassing the breadth of his shoulder. Soft edges? Hardly. He might well have been hewn of warm granite under the snug pull of cotton.

Her thumbs shifted, tracing the swell of muscle, and in one breath, her sob dissolved into something suspiciously like a sigh….