His voice turned into a whisper so full of feeling she felt as if she could touch it. “You’re the air I breathe, the food I eat, the water I drink. You’re my shelter and my refuge; you’re my energy and my inspiration; my ambition, my enthusiasm. You’re my resting place.”

She felt boneless as he bathed her in poetry. He smiled. “Just looking at you shines sunlight on every moment I live. Before I knew you, I wasn’t even alive. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t have any idea. You barged into my life and changed it forever. I love you, I admire you, I lust after you, I adore you . . .”

His words enfolded her—sonnets of love, a rhapsody of devotion. This brusque man who’d tried so hard to separate himself from the feminine was every woman’s dream.

“You make me see the world in new ways. You’re the first thing my heart greets when I wake up in the morning. You’re the last thing I see in my mind before I fall asleep.”

He let go of her feet and took one of her hands in both of his. “Sometimes I daydream about this, just holding your hand. That’s all. Just holding it. And I get a picture of the two of us going through life like that. Hand in hand. I even sometimes think about us having this colossal argument—hand in hand. Or just sitting on a couch together. Or—” Now a trace of aggression emerged as he reasserted himself.

“I know this is corny, but I don’t care—those rocking chairs people talk about.” He narrowed his eyes, just to let her know he wasn’t a complete wimp. “I see that. I see this big front porch and these two rockers side by side, and you and me all old and wrinkled.” His voice softened again. “The kids gone, grown up, only us, and I want to kiss every one of those wrinkles on your face and just sit there and rock with you.”

Her head swirled. Her heart sang. He circled her palm with his thumb.

“I can’t even talk about how much I love making love with you. Do you know that you make the most amazing sounds? And you hold me like I’m all you have, and that makes me feel like I’m some kind of god.”

He brushed her cheek, locked his gaze with hers. “I love being inside you, and touching your face, and opening my eyes so I know it’s really you.”

She shivered.

“And after we’re finished, I go into a fever thinking about a day when I can leave myself inside you. When I’ll steal the soap and turn off the water so I stay there . . . inside you . . . part of you.”