The thunder rattled the windows. It only served to make the large room that much cozier. A haven for the two of them. Down the hall, their two sons slept peacefully, watched over by a loving nurse, Leola, Jeremiah and Marwilda's daughter. Jason pulled his white shirt free of his breeches. As it hung about his slim hips, he turned toward the vanity that he had carved for Krystyna with his own hands. She sat before it, brushing her hair. Swirling rivers of black fell well past her shoulders, tempting his fingers. Unable to resist, Jason came up behind his wife and laid his hands on her shoulders. Her soft sigh aroused him. Easily, he slipped his hands beneath the nightgown's neckline, his fingers reaching for the reassuring feel of her soft, cool skin. When he touched her, contentment and excitement warred for possession of him. It never ceased to amaze Jason how, after two children and six years, he still couldn't seem to get his fill of her. His father had sought his pleasures outside his marital bonds time and again.
