Reading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.The Forgotten Child by Lorhainne Eckhart (latest ebook reader .TXT) đź“–
- Author: Lorhainne Eckhart
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Book online «The Forgotten Child by Lorhainne Eckhart (latest ebook reader .TXT) 📖». Author Lorhainne Eckhart
Trevor pulled away and bounced back over to the uncomfortable OT, who’d become a magnet for Trevor. His structure had been changed; he didn’t know what was expected of him. Hell, neither did Emily, as she gawked like an awkward schoolgirl at these three gangly professionals. Trevor was a magnet; picking up on everyone’s anxiety. Hers included. And Katy, now yanking on Emily’s brown T-shirt, began to whine until Emily picked her up.
The two hours Jane and her lackeys stayed seemed like eight. When they finally left, Emily was so wired; it left her muscles and bones physically weary. Lunch was a pathetic ensemble of build your own sandwiches, which Brad never showed up for anyway.
After Trevor woke from his late morning nap, Emily worked on some basic receptive skills with Trevor, but now he stopped rocking and slid off the chair onto the floor, as if he were a limp rag doll. Emily scooped Trevor up and sat him in the chair holding tight to his upper arms not allowing him to slip off. “Awesome job Trevor, you sat! Here, you earned this to play with.” She handed him the tape measure he was so fond of, he yanked it out and let go, while it whizzed closed, over and over.
The occupational therapist, who’d tagged along with Jane as part of the team this morning, insinuated that following through with Lovaas ABA therapy, the therapy provided by the new consultant, would in fact harm Trevor. He needed to be left alone and he’d develop in his own time, naturally, he’d make his own friends as he saw fit. It was a good thing Brad had left.
Emily had been furious and kicked a stuffed animal across the floor after they’d walked out the door. Why couldn’t these industry professionals start working together? When would they get with program and all realize this is about the best outcome for Trevor, all autistic kids—check your egos at the door.
Her head pounded as she watched Trevor, now scooting across the floor on his knees. Today seemed like the saying: “one-step forward and three back.” And where was Brad?
The dinner dishes were washed and put away. Emily scrubbed the kitchen table and counter. The sun dipped below the horizon, lighting the sky a beautiful shade of pink and orange. Emily listened at the bottom of the stairs for any rustling from the kids. Nothing—good, they were fast asleep.
Dinner had been quiet and tense, even though Emily made, Brad’s favorite, pork chops. For her, it was just a small effort to ease some of the humiliation he’d experienced this morning. He’d only picked at his dinner. After about ten minutes, he’d pushed his plate away and got up from the table without a backward glance, doing something he never did—leave food on his plate.
Walking to the back door, he paused before opening the door, “I have work to do. Thanks for dinner, Em.”
“You’re welcome.” Then he was gone.
Emily stepped outside onto the front porch. The cool night air nipped through the light brown sweater she’d draped over her shoulders. Sitting on the wooden swing, she rocked back and forth. She lifted her chin toward the sound of crunching gravel. Only Brad sounded so confident and surefooted. Emily caught sight of Brad’s outline as he paused right before the steps.
“Nice night, are the kids asleep?”
“Not a peep out of them. It didn’t take them long. Join me.” She motioned to the chair beside her.
He looked straight at the front door. He wants to escape, he’s embarrassed. “Please, Brad.”
He took off his worn cowboy hat and played with the brim in a way so unlike the confident, in-control man. “Okay, Em.” He strode toward her. Instead of sitting, he rested his booted foot on the chair right beside her, resting his forearm on his knee, and then brushed his hat against his leg as if knocking out all the dust.
Emily took a deep steady breath, and pulled out the elastic tying her hair back, allowing her brown wavy hair to swoop down over her shoulders. It was kind of romantic. When Emily looked up the moon had cast a circle of light around them. Brad reached out and touched a strand of her hair, rubbing it gently between his thumb and fingers. Then he tilted her chin up. Her breath was stuck somewhere around the hard lump jamming her throat. Her heart pounded; he was so close now. He leaned down, closing the awkward gap between them and captured her lips in a sweet, tender kiss, so light, his breath warm. He slid his hand around the back of her neck to her shoulder, and lifted her until she stood before him. His hands slid down her back and his arms tightened into an embrace, as he traced her lips with his tongue to gain entrance. With a gasp, she opened her mouth allowing him access. He deepened the kiss and pulled her tighter to him. His hands slid farther down her back and cupped her bottom. A possessive, bold move, his desire pressed hard against her. He dropped his arms and backed away, one step, then two, breaking the off-the-charts kiss; out of breath, both of them breathing heavily, as if they’d just run a marathon.
“I’m sorry, Em. I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
She stepped forward reaching up, she touched his cheek. “Please, don’t stop.”
He was so tall. Her head barely reached his shoulders. But that didn’t stop her from reaching up and trying to pull his head back down to her, except he wouldn’t bend.
“Are you sure, Em? This is what you want?”
His whiskey-colored eyes looked amber in the moonlight. The words stuck in her throat, as though lodged in something thick and gooey. Emily swallowed past the hard lump. Her invitation must have been clear because he threaded his fingers through her hair. Gripping the back of her head as he pulled her to him, reclaiming her mouth like it was his right and she was his woman, a possessive familiarity Emily had never experienced. His deep, intense kiss shed all sense of sanity and turned her knees to putty. Brad must have sensed her slipping, and tightened his arms around her waist, holding her hard against him.
She clutched wildly to his shirt and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Her mind fogged. All she could think about was how great her need for him was—a need stifled for so long; she’d lost all control over the situation. A slight whimper sounded from somewhere deep inside of her. Brad pressed into her, every hard inch of himself. Oh, God, how she wanted this—him. There was something about this man, and oh, yes, he was very much a man, that left her screaming and rejoicing as his tongue danced with hers. Oh, my, could this man kiss. Maybe that was why her mind allowed dark doubts to creep in, asking her how he could really want her. You’re just a phase, a momentary distraction. Shut up, stop thinking so much, she told herself, just enjoy, and don’t start looking for problems.
He broke off the kiss, and leaned down. Opening her bulky sweater, he placed tender kisses down her neck to the row of tiny brown buttons above her breast. He then trailed his hand over her breast, pressing softly as he traced the tender outline of her nipple through her cotton shirt. He didn’t stop his sweet torture as he cupped and lifted, running his thumb against the underside of her breasts. He pulled away, reaching down, he linked her hand in his and guided her into the house, closing and locking the door behind them. He squeezed her hand and looked down on her with such heat and desire in those powerful whiskey colored eyes, pausing with an open question she clearly understood, “Are you sure this is what you want? Tell me now before this goes any further.”
“Yes, I want you.” Her voice was husky and filled with desire.
Without another word, he led her up the stairs. Each creak of each step bumped up the beat of her heart, and it threatened to close off all her natural breathing. She didn’t know how to handle this, because with Brad, there was no question; he was in charge. His whole being stated that fact. He was a poster boy for the very definition of a strong alpha male. She’d wondered if men like him hadn’t in fact died off long ago. Now, she was so grateful he was here with her, leading her into his room, closing the door behind him.
Brad braced his wide, working man hand flat against the door, and just watched her through his heavy lidded gaze, the open question gone. Studying her now was a predatory man, who damn sure wasn’t letting her leave this room, but not in a way that instilled fear in Emily. In this large, stately master bedroom filled with western oil paintings, mahogany furnishings and a large four-poster bed, neatly made with a floral duvet whispering the sensual invitation she’d longed for; she felt wanted, special.
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