The sensations coursing through her body obliterated rational thought, and a moment later, she was caught in the vortex of her release. Rachel’s body went boneless and it was all she could do to stay upright. A moment later, he found his own release, his hands clutching her hips as he drove into her one last time.
They clung to each other beneath the shower, her backside nestled in his lap, both of them trembling in the aftermath of their orgasms. It would never be like this with another man, she mused. The passion they shared was singular and powerful, and becoming more frightening to her with every encounter they shared. How would she ever do without this?
Though she wanted to imagine a happy ending for the two of them, the odds didn’t seem to favor them. Was she willing to give up everything she’d known, everything she promised, to find a life with him? And was he ready to make that kind of commitment?
There were too many questions left unanswered and she was running out of time to ask them all.
THE STORM BEGAN IN the middle of the night. Lightning flashed and the thunder was so loud it rattled the windows. Dermot sat up in bed, reaching out for Rachel. But her side of the bed was empty.
He tossed the sheet aside and stood, searching the room for something to wear. In the end, he pulled on a pair of jeans and walked downstairs barefoot. He found her, curled up in front of the television, tuned to the weather channel. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Tornado warning,” she said.
“Tornado? Really? How close?”
She pointed to the television. “About twenty miles.” Rachel drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs. “I hate bad weather,” she said. “In town, they have the sirens to warn you. But out here, you just have to listen to the storm. It was so hot and humid today. I knew this was coming.”
He sat down next to her, his gaze fixed on the television. “Are there a lot of tornadoes around here?”
Rachel nodded. “Sure. We get some each summer. They don’t always do a lot of damage.” She shuddered. “I was terrified of tornadoes when I was younger. My dad would listen to the radio and wake us up in the middle of the night and we’d go down into the cellar and wait for the storm to pass. My mother would sing songs and try to distract me, but it didn’t help.”
“We don’t really have tornadoes in Seattle,” he said.
“Spring is usually the worst,” she said. “But a few years ago, we had a tornado in October. It tore the roof off a barn not far from here.” She snuggled up against him. “I think I watched The Wizard of Oz too many times when I was a kid. Between the tornado and the flying monkeys, I couldn’t sleep for days.”
Dermot wrapped his arms around her. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said. “I’ll protect you.”
“You can’t protect me from tornadoes.” She sighed softly. “What about you? Aren’t you afraid of anything?”
“Nothing. I’m made of steel,” he teased. “They call me Superman back in Seattle.”
Rachel wove her fingers through his. “Tell me.”
Dermot hesitated for a long moment. They’d been so intimate, and yet neither one of them had confessed their deepest fears. They’d both carefully avoided revealing too much. Maybe it was time. “I’m… I’m afraid that if I love something too much, I’ll lose it.”
“So you never fall in love?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I try very hard not to.”
“Interesting,” she said.
“That’s your reply? ‘Interesting’?”
She snuggled closer. “It doesn’t surprise me, considering what happened with your parents. Especially at such a young age. I’m surprised you’re as normal as you are.”
“What about you?”
“I think loss is something farm kids deal with at an \ age. We see the circle of life all the time. Animals that we love die. We cry and then move on. That doesn’t mean it becomes any easier, but it’s… understood?”
“What scares you, Rachel? Besides tornadoes?” He waited for her answer, wondering what she’d say. Dermot had never met a woman as strong as Rachel Howe, as stubborn or determined.
“I’m afraid that I’ll be alone. I’ll be like Eddie, regretting all the mistakes I made in life, wondering how things might have been different.” She drew a ragged breath. “I’m happy, don’t get me wrong. But I’m afraid that, someday, I’ll wake up and it will be too late.”
“That will never happen,” Dermot said. He wanted to say more, to tell her how much she meant to him, to make her understand that if he could ever love anyone it would be her.
Dermot could imagine a future with her, a life that included more happiness than he’d ever had in the past. He had never had a serious relationship. There’d been dating relationships, and sexual relationships, but none of them ventured into the realm of “emotional.”
Yet, when he was with Rachel, he didn’t want to be anywhere else. If he were honest, he was almost afraid to leave her, afraid that what they had found together might suddenly evaporate. At this point in every other relationship, he was usually looking for a way out. But with Rachel, he was still trying to figure a way in.
Neither one of them had any expectations, beyond hard work and constant companionship. And when there was a promise of more, he accepted their relationship for what it was—for as long as it lasted.
Was that why he was so confused? Without a point of reference, he had no way of judging what they shared together. Was this love? Friendship? Or just sexual desire being satisfied? Suddenly, it was important to put a name to it.
A clap of thunder shook the house and Rachel jumped, groaning softly. Dermot took her hand in his. “Come on.”
“No, I’m not going to bed until this is over.”
“This will help. I promise.”
Reluctantly, she followed him into the kitchen. He opened the door and rain-damp wind buffeted them both. The sky was a riot of light, each flash illuminating the huge clouds. The air was full of electricity.
“I’m not going out there,” she said.
“We’re just going to stand on the porch. If it gets really bad, we’ll come back in. I promise. Trust me, Rachel.”
He held out his hand and she reluctantly stepped outside. Dermot wrapped his arms around her waist. “Now, we just have to wait for the next big flash of lightning and—” The sky split open and he yanked her into a long, deep kiss. He continued through the thunder crack, distracting her with his lips and his tongue.
When it was over, Dermot stepped back. “Wait for it.”
“What are you doing?”
“You’ll see. You’ll never—” The lightning flashed and he kissed her again, the thunder calling an end to the kiss. “From now on, whenever you’re in the middle of a storm, you’ll think of kissing me. You won’t be able to help yourself.”
“You’re crazy,” she said.
Another bolt of lightning flashed in the sky and she barely noticed. “See,” Dermot said, “it’s working.”
She turned and walked along the porch railing, staring out into the storm as if the answers were all there. “It is beautiful,” she finally said, the wind whipping at her hair. “Powerful. Exciting.” She paused. “And dangerous. Kind of like you.”
“I’m