You Belong to My Heart Read Online Free PDF

relationship with Mary Ellen before. While they had nothing against the boy personally, he would hardly be an acceptable candidate for the role of future son-in-law. Both agreed that while they thought the world of Anna Knight and were certainly fond of Clay, the Knights were of a decidedly different class. A lower class. Cruel as it was, the Knights were considered “poor white trash” by the Prebles and their elite circle of patrician friends. A blue-blooded Preble could not consider marrying the son of a shiftless drunk and a common seamstress. It simply was not done.
    John Thomas Preble said, “Give Mary Ellen a little time. She’ll forget Clay Knight exists.”
    Convinced, Julie Preble laid the gold-handled brush on the vanity and leaned comfortably back against her husband’s supporting chest.
    She smiled then and said, “You’re right, John.
    You’re always right. Mary Ellen’s such a pretty, bright, and curious child. I imagine she’ll set many a young man’s head to spinning in the next few years.”
    “She will indeed,” agreed John Thomas Preble. Then he added gallantly, “Just as her beautiful mother makes my head spin.”
    His dark, penetrating gaze holding his wife’s blue eyes in the mirror, he slowly, provocatively peeled the gossamer negligee and matching nightgown from her pale shoulders. He languidly slipped the frothy fabric down her arms and over her full breasts. He didn’t stop until her slim white arms were freed and the gauzy garments were pooled around her flared hips.
    “Ah, yes, my love,” he murmured hoarsely, “just the sight of you sets my head to spinning.”
    Julie Preble drew a shallow breath and began to tingle with building anticipation. She knew what her husband was going to do to her—with her—and she could hardly wait. She purred and stretched her bared upper body like a seductive feline. Her husband rose to his feet behind her. His hands gently clasping either side of her head, he bent and kissed her shimmering blond hair.
    Then he reached for her, lifted her easily into his arms. He carried her across the room to their giant four-poster, the half-off, half-on nightclothes encircling her hips spilling over his arms.
    Julie Preble sighed softly and watched in the room’s many gold reflecting mirrors as her husband gently lowered her to her feet, stepped back, and allowed her blue negligee and gown to slither to the plush carpet. Fire leapt into his dark eyes as he openly admired her nude female form. When she reached out, tugged the sash of his maroon smoking jacket, then pushed the rich fabric apart over his naked chest, he shuddered deeply.
    Everything and everyone outside that suite was forgotten for the next glorious hour as the married lovers leisurely, expertly pleasured each other in their big four-poster bed.
    “Kiss me,” Clay murmured anxiously, “kiss me again, sweetheart. Never stop kissing me.”
    Mary Ellen kissed him again, her lips opening eagerly beneath his, her tongue seeking his.
    They had learned a great deal about kissing since the first time they’d kissed. Together they had experimented, tested, researched the wonder and the ecstasy of it. Instinct had led them to discover that kissing was more—much more—than simply the blending of two pairs of lips. While they were still not fully skilled in the finer arts of kissing, they had come a long way since the first time they’d kissed.
    Their very first kiss had come on a raw February afternoon a week after Mary Ellen’s confession that she was in love with Clay. The delay was through no fault of their own. Circumstances beyond their control made it impossible for them to find the privacy they so longed for. As fate would have it, they weren’t left by themselves for a minute, much to their mutual disappointment.
    Finally, after the longest, most agonizing week either had ever spent, they were able to seize the unexpected chance to be alone. They stole a few quick moments of privacy in