made him as he drove him in and out of her with a rising fury.
Then she heard his rapid breathing become ragged, as if the sound caught on something low in his throat— knowing that he was close. And with that realization she suddenly reached her peak, sensing a flood sweep through her just as surely as there would be if he tore down a high-country dam and what had been a flooded meadow rushed downslope between two narrow banks.
Her quivering thighs.
She felt as if her legs were the banks of that mountain stream suddenly released. Starting somewhere inside her belly where she had carried their daughter, Waits sensed the gushing wave wash downward, down, down over his manhood imprisoned inside her, on down as it swept over them both while their rhythm slowed like the passing of a stampede.
Not the hurtling passage of massive, lumbering, ground-shaking buffalo … but the breathless, fleeting passage of wild horses—their nostrils flaring, their eyes wide with wind-borne lust, their manes and tails blowing free in the wind.
She could tell he had enjoyed it as he pulled back from her and gazed into her eyes. He didn’t have to speak for her to know.
Her husband licked his lips and said, “There is no finer woman than you in all this world. With all I have done wrong, with all the folks I didn’t mean to hurt but ended up hurting anyway over the years … I don’t know how I ever became worthy of your love.”
“The Grandfather Above has smiled on us both,” she whispered against his cheek, closing her eyes and wishing this moment would never end. Then of a sudden she rocked back and smiled at him, saying, “One Above smiled on me a little earlier in my life than he did in yours!”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to die anytime soon, woman.”
Holding his face between her hands as she felt him continue to soften within her, Waits said, “You have lived through so many deaths already, I grow afraid you won’t live through any more.”
Bass pulled her against him fiercely, kissing her wet, warm mouth. When he could no longer hold his breath, he pulled away gasping. And said, “I have so much to live for now, I wouldn’t dare go and poke a stick in death’s hornet’s nest, woman.”
Resting her cheek against his shoulder, Waits felt guilty that his words gave her so little relief.
Finally she said, “I will consider those words as your vow to me, husband.”
“You have my promise—till the day we part in death.”
*
DANCE ON THE WIND
A Bantam Book
Copyright © 1995 by Terry C. Johnston.
Map design by GDS/Jeffrey L. Ward.
