Before she could say anything, he had fallen to his knees before her, and was asking, “May I kiss you, Ellie?”

“You need to ask?” she said, laughing.

He was serious, though. “Yes. You gave yourself to me four years ago and I responded to that gift with distrust and accusations. We parted in ill feeling and have lived apart for four years. I am more grateful and more delighted than I can say that you are considering giving me another chance. I will make no assumptions; assume no rights. It shall be as you wish.”

She parted her knees so he could come closer and put her hands on his shoulders. “The fault was on my side, too,” she reminded him, and pulled him closer for a kiss.

He accepted the invitation. In a split second, his body was pressed against hers and his hands pinned her in place, one on the small of her back and one the nape of her neck. His mouth covered hers, his lips and tongue urgently demanding her response.

Ellie went up in flames at his touch, revelling in the sensations she thought she’d never feel again, cursing the clothing that kept her from getting closer still. She still had to tell him something, but with his tongue in her mouth, the hard length of him rubbing against the place that wept for him, she couldn’t remember what it was.

She clawed at his shirt, and he co-operated, shifting slightly away and moving first one arm and then the other as she dragged the shirt off him, their mouths parting only long enough to slip the material past. 

That was better. Skin under her hands. His clever hands had inched up her hem and were now raising her night rail. In moments, she would be naked, and her body ached for the fulfillment he could give her. 

(An excerpt from One Hour in Freedom, which is out for beta reading and will be published next month.