The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

could last.
    How much did he love his wife? How strong did he think she was? How strong was their commitment to each other?
    He wanted to let go of all doubts and bask in the love she seemed now to offer so earnestly, so generously. He wanted all those dreams for the two of them he'd once seen shining so brightly in her eyes.
    Still, the smartest thing to do right now would be to wait until tomorrow. This whole thing with the children might be over by then. They'd know, and they could decide what to do from there.
    Nevertheless, he eased an inch closer to her, because he'd been without her and missing her for so long.
    What if this was all he ever got? All they had left? It seemed selfish to reach for her feeling like that, but there it was. He still wanted her, wanted anything he could have with her right now.
    Sam went to say something to her; he wasn't even sure what. But his throat felt too tight and the words never made it past that point. He felt as if he could easily choke on the emotions running through him, felt as if he were about to go toppling over the precipice, and didn't really care at the moment where he was when the dust finally settled. Because he was doing it to get to her, for however long he could have her.
    Looking for a way to lighten the mood, to maybe get through this without letting her see what it cost him, he glanced around the room and remembered... Christmas. It was Christmas Eve. She'd gotten out the wrapping paper, the ribbons and bows, while he was upstairs, and then he remembered...
    "You never told me what you wanted for Christmas."
    She looked puzzled for a moment, then hopeful, then very tentative as she reached for something on the table at his side and came up with a big, red bow. She peeled the paper off the adhesive on the bottom of it and stuck the bow on his shirt, squarely over his heart, and then left her hands there on him. He absolutely loved having her hands on him.
    Giving him a shy, tentative smile, she said, "I was hoping I'd find you under the tree. All wrapped up with my name on you."
    He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the feel of her hands running over him. He bent his head until his cheek was nestled against hers, and he could smell her, the Rachel smell, mingling with that of the tree and the fire.
    Rachel at Christmas, he thought.
    Rachel in the light of the fire and the tiny, blinking, white bulbs reflected off her smooth skin.
    He'd seen her like that once, late one Christmas night. A Christmas when there hadn't been a lot of money for any kind of gifts, and she'd given him herself, right there by the tree.
    Sam's entire body started shaking with need. He reached behind him and flicked off the light, heard a little catch in her breath as his arms came around her and he settled her against him.
    There was a tape of Christmas songs playing softly in the background, a happy, triumphant song. "Joy to the World." She was humming quietly to it even now.
    She'd loved Christmas once, he remembered. Loved everything about it. Enjoyed it more than anyone he'd ever known. There had been joy inside of her once, and maybe life hadn't beaten it all out of her.
    He slid his hands across her back, thinking about how small she was, how vulnerable she felt against him. He always forgot that about her until he had her this close, and he thought about how easy it would be to hurt her, how much hurt he'd seen in her face over the years.
    She pressed her nose to the side of his neck, inhaling deeply of him, and he thought of doing the same thing in her hair. He loved the softness of her hair, the feel of it against his skin.
    He let his hand slide into it, his palm cupping her cheek and his fingertips buried in the silky strands. She was wearing it down tonight, which he loved, and it was longer than it had been in a while.
    He remembered one time lying flat on his back and her leaning over him, kissing him all over, him discovering how much he liked the feel of her hair on him. Remembered how she'd laughed and teased him with it.
    He missed that woman, he realized with a stark longing that he thought might send him to his knees.
    "I've missed you," he whispered. "Everything about you. It's been pure hell staying away."
    "I've missed you, too," she whispered, kissing his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and finally his mouth.
    She was very tentative about it; she'd seldom taken the lead when it came to lovemaking, even in all the years they'd been together, although she'd always