EXCERPT

In the waning light, she looked wildly angelic, her tawny hair mussed, tumbling down her back, falling across her shoulder when she bent to step into her clothes.
She glanced at him while she dressed, her expression unreadable though she moved hurriedly.
He couldn’t stop smiling. Much as he wanted her to stay, her stubbornness would win out, so he sat up to help button her up. “Don’t forget the book. And your basket.”
Her glance pained, she lifted them from the floor and fingered the shells. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He dared not believe she thanked him for taking her maidenhead.
“For giving me a memory I can cherish, one I can close my eyes and remember after I leave. When someone else’s hands touch me, they will be your hands, Sam.” Passion and pleading mingled in her voice.
He scrambled upward. “What? No.” The very idea flared his anger. He didn’t want anyone else’s hands on her.
She backed away. “Goodbye, Sam.”
“Wait, I’ll see you home.” He reached for his pants.
“No. It’s better if I go alone.”
He couldn’t argue her logic. If others witnessed them leaving together, someone might mention it to Mrs. Crowell. He would not have her shamed so.
She reached for the door. After one last haunting, accusing glance, was gone.
Sam lay in the twilight, staring at the ceiling, recalling every moment of the afternoon. He would never be able to erase the memory, that much he knew. The thought of another man’s hands upon her, even if they yielded memories of him, gave him no comfort.
To the contrary, the thought tortured him.