though his whole body had been struck by star fire. She kissed him, and the flames burned hotter and brighter and he knew he couldn't wait until they got home, that he had to have her now, or die.
Swinging her up into his arms, Micah walked swiftly down the beach toward a small cove. Stripping off his coat, he spread it on the sand and then, his hands shaking with urgency, he began to undress her, marveling anew at the perfection of her body, at the silken touch of her skin beneath his fingertips. She was the essence of life, a goddess come to life, a miracle wrapped in moonlight.
He groaned low in his throat as Lainey's hands moved over him, freeing him from his clothing, gliding over his skin. Wrapped in each other's arms, they sank slowly to the ground.
The roar of the surf echoed the pounding of his heart as he worshiped her with his eyes, his touch. His heart swelled with love when she urged him to shed his human shape. She whispered her love as she caressed him, her hands exploring the solid wall of his chest, brushing the webbing on his hands. She nipped his earlobe, and each touch told him more eloquently than words that she loved him for who and what he was, that their differences didn't matter at all, that nothing mattered except the love they shared, the love that had bound them together and culminated in the birth of their son.
Carefully, he merged his flesh with hers, afraid of hurting her in his eagerness. It had been so long, he thought, so long since he'd been able to bury himself within her warmth, her sweetness. Tears burned his eyes as she welcomed him home, her hips lifting to receive him, her arms holding him tight as she whispered his name, then gasped with pleasure as two became one in heart and mind and body.
Her name exploded from his lips in a harsh cry of exultation as they reached for the stars and found them. Together.
Lainey came awake slowly, a smile on her face. Now she knew how Scarlett had felt the morning after Rhett carried her up that long flight of stairs.
With a contented sigh, she reached across the bed for Micah, but her hand closed on empty air. Disappointed, she slid out of bed, pulled on her robe, and padded down the hallway to the nursery. Sure enough, Micah was there, bent over the white wicker changing table as he sprinkled powder on the baby's dimpled bottom, then put a clean diaper in place.
Lifting the baby to his shoulder, Micah turned around, his eyes caressing her. "Good morning, Mom."
"Good morning." Lainey smiled up at him. "Did I thank you for last night?"
"No thanks are necessary," Micah said, returning her smile. "I assure you it was my pleasure."
"And mine. Are you hungry?"
"Very hungry." His gaze moved over hers, hotter than the tail of a comet. "I could use some breakfast, too."
Happiness bubbled inside Lainey as she took the baby from his arms. "I'll feed the baby, and then fix your breakfast," she said with a saucy grin. "And then I'll see what I can do about that other craving."
Lainey snuggled closer to Micah. Never before had she realized what a blessing it was to work at home, to be able to work at her leisure, to take long lunch breaks in her husband's arms.
With a sigh, she gazed at Micah, feeling utterly content. She loved him, wholly, completely, not just because he was the most handsome man she had ever known, but because he was thoughtful, generous, caring, kind, compassionate... She smiled inwardly, thinking there weren't enough words to describe him.
She started to tell him how much she loved him when she noticed the troubled look in his eye. "What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Micah, I know you better than that. What's wrong?"
"I need something to do, something to occupy my time."
"What would you like to do?"
"I don't know." He rolled onto his side, facing her. "I love you, Lainey, more than my own life, but I can't stay here, in the house, forever. I miss piloting my craft. I miss the excitement, the adventure. Do you understand?"
Of course she understood. She'd die without her writing. It was a part of her, something she had to do. And yet, as dear as her writing was to her, she sensed that flying meant even more to Micah than her writing meant to her. But there