Faded Cotton (Erotic Romance) Read Free

thoughts; she figured she’d buried them a long time ago. It
didn’t hurt any less all these years later, just not as often. They
couldn’t have done anything for him. He had died in the helicopter
while being airlifted to the city, and was removed from life
support, with her watching, a few hours later. Brain hemorrhage—no
explanation. The image of him slumped over the steering wheel of
their red Chevy crew cab now permeated her thoughts, her eyes stung
as she fought back welling tears. She shoved the pain back down and
swallowed hard.
    __________________________
     
    Johnson assisted his cuffed suspect through
the guard check in the garage below the station. He guided her to
the granite-floored elevator. After rising to the top floor of
police headquarters, they entered the twenty-sixth floor to a horde
of people and desks. The tall detective towered over the chaos and
easily picked a path to the interrogation room. He leaned to the
obviously upset woman he was escorting.
    “Laurel, I swear we’ll get you out of this.
It’s going to be all right,” he whispered in her ear, his husky
voice soft and pleading. It brought back fond memories of their
time together. He’d been so innocent, so thoughtful, so sweet, and
hurt so badly; she’d helped him heal.
    Pain, fear, anguish, and confusion ran
together sucking the energy from her. “It’s my fault. I should have
never let any of this happen,” she grieved for reasons she didn’t
understand, her feelings muddled together.
    “Derrick and Kate will be here soon. I gotta
go, don’t worry.” Those were his last words before he walked out
the door leaving her in the solitary confines of a room meant for
criminals.
    The heavy door thudded shut after him,
drowning out the cacophony of phones and voices in the main area.
She was alone with her thoughts once again. She sat down, and for
the moment, was unwilling to let the pressure of the situation
consume her. She searched for memories of happier times.
    She was always able to muster hope for the
future when she remembered good times. Laurel stared into the
not-so-distant past, the memory of her last day with Jahn suddenly
inundating her thoughts.
    It seemed like yesterday. She took a long
breath, her heart slowing a little. Giving a wistful smile to
vacant space, she allowed her mind comfort in recollection. Was
remembering letting go?
    __________________________

Chapter 4
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Jahn. He would take Jan or John when folks didn’t get
how to pronounce the beautiful German name. It was his
mother’s-grandparents’ last name, his given middle name, and the
name that he answered to. She called him Jahn. Like Jan, only drawn
out. He loved the way it breathed from her lips right before she
would demand one more kiss.
    He knew the early-morning breeze beckoned her as she
stepped through the French doors from the kitchen to the deck. She
loved the house; he had built it for her, with her. Not far down
the hill from the manicured lawn, the breeze moved through a
peaking stand of orchard grass and timothy in undulating waves of
green and muted deep ocean blue-green, seeded tops just starting to
brown.
    She lived for moments like this. The sun was burning
off the dew, the birds fluttering about their nests, the cricket’s
noise winding down. He knew she would stand in the breeze, sweet
orange juice in hand and turn her face to the rising sun. He knew
what she was feeling, standing in the breeze: pure joy.
    Jahn MacClain ducked his head with a grin as he
recalled the night before and how just looking at his wife now,
made him harden against his jeans. Watching her, he remembered how
easy it was to get her out of that faded cotton gown. The soft
cloth fluttered around her now much like the waves of grass.
    Her head was tilted into the breeze exposing her neck
and shoulders to the cool air. Her hazel green eyes slowly closing,
heightening her other senses, as her golden brown shoulder length
waves whipped