Nights in Rodanthe - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,42

knew she would allow herself to go to the place she was meant to be.

Lightning cut the sky outside. Wind and rain were joined as one, pounding against the walls. The room grew hotter as the flames began to leap up again.

Paul stood and faced her. His expression was tender as he reached for her hand. She expected him to kiss her, but he didn’t. Instead, he raised her hand and held it against his cheek, closing his eyes, as if wanting to remember her touch against him forever.

Paul kissed the back of her hand before releasing it. Then, opening his eyes and tilting his head, he drew closer until she felt his lips brush against the side of her face in a series of butterfly-light kisses before finally meeting her lips.

She leaned into him then as he wrapped his arms around her; she could feel her breasts pressed against his chest; she could feel the slight stubble on his face when he kissed her the second time.

He ran his hands over her back, her arms, and she parted her lips, feeling the moisture of his tongue. He kissed her neck, her cheek, and as his hand moved around to her belly, his touch was electric. When he moved his hand to her breasts, her breath caught in her throat, and they kissed again and again, the world around them dissolving into something distant and unreal.

It was over now, for both of them, and as they moved even closer, it was as if they were not only embracing each other, but holding all the painful memories at bay.

He buried his hands in her hair, and she leaned her head against his chest, hearing his heart beating as quickly as hers.

Then, when they were finally able to separate, she found herself reaching for his hand.

She took a small step backward and with a gentle pull began leading him to his bedroom upstairs.

Thirteen

In the kitchen, Amanda stared at her mother.

She hadn’t spoken since Adrienne had started her story and had gone through two glasses of wine, the second a bit faster than the first. Neither of them was speaking now, and Adrienne could feel the anxious expectation of her daughter as she waited for what would come next.

But Adrienne couldn’t tell Amanda about that, nor did she need to. Amanda was a grown woman; she knew what it meant to make love to a man. She was also old enough to know that even though that was a wonderful part of their discovery of each other, it had been just that: a part of it. She loved Paul, and had he not meant so much to her, had the weekend been only physical in nature, there would have been nothing to remember other than a few pleasurable moments, special only because she had been alone so long. What they shared, however, were feelings that had been buried for far too long, feelings that were meant for just the two of them. And only them.

Besides, Amanda was her daughter. Call it old-fashioned, but sharing the details would be inappropriate. Some could talk about such things, but Adrienne never understood how they could. The bedroom, she always thought, was a place of shared secrets.

But even if she’d wanted to tell, she knew she wouldn’t be able to find the words. How could she describe the sensation as he began to unbutton her blouse, or the shivers that traveled the length of her body when he traced his finger along her belly? Or how heated their skin felt as their bodies came together? Or the texture of his mouth where he kissed her and how she felt when she pressed her fingers hard into his skin? Or the sound of his breathing and hers and how their breaths quickened as they began to move as one?

No, she wouldn’t speak of those things. Instead, she would let her daughter imagine what had happened, because Adrienne knew that only her imagination could possibly capture even the slightest bit of the magic she’d felt in Paul’s arms.

“Mom?” Amanda finally whispered.

“You want to know what happened?”

Amanda swallowed uncomfortably.

“Yes,” was all Adrienne would say.

“You mean…”

“Yes,” she said again.

Amanda took a drink of wine. Steeling herself, she lowered the glass to the table. “And?…”

Adrienne leaned forward, as if not wanting anyone to overhear.

“Yes,” she whispered, and with that, she glanced off to the side, retreating into the past.

They’d made love that afternoon, and she’d spent the rest of the day in