The Notebook - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,38

her in one fluid motion. He was on all fours above her, his knees astride her hips. She lifted her head and kissed his chin and neck, breathing hard, licking his shoulders, and tasting the sweat that lingered on his body. She ran her hands through his hair as he held himself above her, his arm muscles hard from the exertion. With a little tempting frown, she pulled him closer, but he resisted. Instead he lowered himself and lightly rubbed his chest against her, and she felt her body respond with anticipation. He did this slowly, over and over, kissing every part of her body, listening as she made soft, whimpering sounds while he moved above her.

He did this until she couldn’t take it anymore, and when they finally joined as one, she cried aloud and pressed her fingers hard into his back. She buried her face in his neck and felt him deep inside her, felt his strength and gentleness, felt his muscle and his soul. She moved rhythmically against him, allowing him to take her wherever he wanted, to the place she was meant to be.

She opened her eyes and watched him in the firelight, marveling at his beauty as he moved above her. She saw his body glisten with crystal sweat and watched as beads rolled down his chest and fell onto her like the rain outside. And with every drop, with every breath, she felt herself, every responsibility, every facet of her life, slipping away.

Their bodies reflected everything given, everything taken, and she was rewarded with a sensation she never knew existed. It went on and on, tingling throughout her body and warming her before finally subsiding, and she struggled to catch her breath while she trembled beneath him. But the moment it was over, another one started to build again, and she started to feel them in long sequences, one right after the next. By the time the rain had stopped and the sun had set, her body was exhausted but unwilling to stop the pleasure between them.

They spent the day in each other’s arms, alternately making love by the fire and then holding each other as they watched the flames curl around the wood. Sometimes he recited one of his favorite poems as she lay beside him, and she would listen with her eyes closed and almost feel the words. Then, when they were ready, they would join again and he murmured words of love between kisses as they wrapped their arms around one another.

They went on throughout the evening, making up for their years apart, and slept in each other’s arms that night. Occasionally he would wake up and look at her, her body spent and radiant, and feel as if everything were suddenly right in this world.

Once, when he was looking at her in the moments before daybreak, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled and reached up to touch his face. He put his fingers to her lips, gently, to keep her from speaking, and for a long time they just looked at one another.

When the lump in his throat subsided, he whispered to her, “You are the answer to every prayer I’ve offered. You are a song, a dream, a whisper, and I don’t know how I could have lived without you for as long as I have. I love you, Allie, more than you can ever imagine. I always have, and I always will.”

“Oh, Noah,” she said, pulling him to her. She wanted him, needed him now more than ever, like nothing she’d ever known.

Courtrooms

Later that morning, three men—two lawyers and the judge—sat in chambers while Lon finished speaking. It was a moment before the judge answered.

“It’s an unusual request,” he said, pondering the situation. “It seems to me the trial could very well end today. Are you saying this urgent matter can’t wait until later this evening or tomorrow?”

“No, Your Honor, it can’t,” Lon answered almost too quickly. Stay relaxed, he told himself. Take a deep breath.

“And it has nothing to do with this case?”

“No, Your Honor. It’s of a personal nature. I know it’s out of the ordinary, but I really need to take care of it.” Good, better.

The judge leaned back in his chair, evaluating him for a moment. “Mr. Bates, how do you feel about this?”

He cleared his throat. “Mr. Hammond called me this morning and I’ve already spoken to my clients. They’re willing to postpone until Monday.”

“I see,” the judge said. “And do you