There was something inherently calming about the back-and-forth motion. Not that the old Foster house was all that noisy, but being in Ryal’s presence made thinking impossible. All she thought about when she was with him was the years that they’d missed. She longed for a drawing pad to sketch him, even though she knew she would never be able to capture the true essence of the man. The strongest part of his allure wasn’t in his physical appearance, although that was exceedingly fine. It was his soul that drew her closest. He made love to her with all the ferocity of the storm that had broken down the last walls of their resistance. His tenderness was evident in his caress, in his gaze, in the slow, sensual strokes of the hairbrush he ran through her hair. Everything about him was perfection in her eyes, just as it had been when the love between them was new and fresh. They could never get back the ten years they’d lost, but she would happily settle for sharing the rest of his life.
