Broken Promises Read Free

glass. Soon, the vista would be filled with color. Greens, pinks and whites as the magnolia and fruit trees blossomed. But for now, even though the sun was bright and warm, it was still very early in the year and all the tree limbs were naked. The ground was dark and brown, with small patches of dirty snow dotting the hills.
    This was her home. It held bad memories, but also many good ones that she’d been trying to reclaim. “As much as being here is difficult at times, you know we can’t just up and leave.” Turning back around, she caught a look as stark as the barren landscape crossing his face. “What’s the matter?” she asked. Would he finally open up and confide in her?
    He only reached for her shirt, pulling apart the rest of the ingenious metal snaps in one smooth motion until the garment was spread open and fell off her shoulders and down her arms, leaving her in nothing but a thin chemise tucked into her trousers.
    A sliver of disappointment slipped into her heart. No, it seemed he wasn’t ready to admit his fears aloud, but she understood what it was like to feel as if nothing was under your control. Perhaps she had to give him more time, the same as he’d done for her when she needed it.
    “Never let it be said that these fastenings serve only one convenience,” he teased. The shirt, like many of her clothes, had been refashioned with snaps in order to facilitate her artificial hand, which was strong but lacked the ability to navigate delicate buttonholes and silk lacings.
    “If I did that to your clothing as often as you do it to mine, you wouldn’t have anything to wear by week’s end,” she teased, fingering his collar.
    “I would gladly order new shirts every day.” His voice had lowered, a telltale sign of his desire. The deep rumble triggered a swift rush of gooseflesh over her skin, as if she’d been trained to respond to it. To him.
    His hands closed tight on her upper arms before he shifted and helped her down to the smooth floor. He tugged off her tall boots. She lay back and let him drag the heavy twill fabric of her trousers down her thighs and over the metal rods, balls and gears that made up her lower legs.
    She was no longer as self-conscious as she’d once been, at least not with him. But finding herself bared to the skin in the bright light of day while her husband remained fully clothed was disconcerting. The state didn’t trouble her for long though, because as soon as he tossed her silk drawers to the floor behind them, he was settling between her spread thighs.
    His touch infused her with heat, lips tracing a burning path from her mouth, down her neck to her breast while his hand cupped and squeezed the other. He flicked her taut nipple with his tongue, torturing her with the tight sensation before pulling it into his mouth and sucking hard until she moaned his name.
    Her hands tore at his shirt and she didn’t care if she reduced it to shreds as long as it came off. He lifted his head and got to his knees to help her, the thickly corded muscles of his chest and arms bunching and moving. The sunshine through the window made him seem an angel wrapped up in a full-body halo. In contrast, the light only painted her harshly. It stripped her bare more effectively than being without clothes, highlighting the harsh transitions between flesh and iron, exaggerating the dull gray metal that had taken over so much of her body.
    “You are absolutely perfect,” he murmured, drawing her gaze back up to his. The understanding in his eyes told her just how transparent she was.
    She knew she had to stop thinking of herself as broken, and for the most part that was coming along. At least as well as could reasonably be expected. She was even able to appreciate what the doctor had done for her when he fitted her with new limbs, but there was something about being in this room, the ghostly trappings of her dancing career all around her…
    She sat up and reached for him with her hand—the