BEFORE YOU READ THIS!!!!! THIS STORY CONTAINS ADULT MATERIAL. PLEASE PROCEED ONLY IF YOU ARE 18 YEARS OR OLDER. I CAUTION YOU, THIS IS NOT MATERIAL FOR CHILDREN'S EYES.

Snow fell in torrents outside, swirling around in the inky blackness of the frozen turf. She sat, curled into a ball on her couch, watching the weather worsen. For three months she had lived in this icy wasteland, spending little time in public, enjoying her solitude. It hadn't been so long ago that she had moved here, moved here to escape the memories of her previous life, her life with him. Three months had passed, and she spent all of her time pouring herself into her work. She had written more stories in those three months then she had in the past seventeen years. More and more of herself went into them, tearing at the hole he had left.

She only sat on the couch now, staring at the white wall on the far side of the room. Headlights flashed across the wall, illuminating the darkened corner of the room. She stirred restlessly. There was a full-fledged blizzard going out there, who in their right mind would be out in it? She hadn't gotten close to anyone, especially not close enough to merit a visit in the middle of the storm of the century.

She had long since lost power, and was relying on the fireplace and candlelight for warmth and illumination. Her doorbell was out as well, but she heard a loud banging knock that echoed in the silence of the house. Darting to the door, she shoved it open as hard as she could, fighting the wind with each moment. A strong, muscle coiled hand grabbed the door and forced it back against the wind. Framed in the doorway, lit up by the flickering firelight, was Shane.

His baby blue eyes sparked dangerously, as he growled, "You couldn't run somewhere warm, like Tahiti, or something?" Layla stared up at him, astonished that he was standing before her. "Well, I'll give you one thing," he continued, unzipping the huge black down parka he was wearing. "You always said you'd leave if there was nothing keeping you." Layla glared up at him, her astonishment giving way to anger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Layla demanded, her green eyes flashing silver.

Shane's gaze softened to a liquid blue, assuaging the irritation in his face. The tight jaw muscles relaxed, and the tension in his fists vanished. "Damn it, Layla." Shane muttered, his voice deep with something she couldn't quite place. "Why'd you leave?" he demanded.

Layla's eyes flashed again as she retorted, "Oh, you can walk out on me, but I can't leave you? How is that fair?"

"You didn't give me a chance to realize what I had done," Shane argued, his voice just below his normal octave. Layla knew that voice, though she had only heard it once. He was upset, not angry, at least not at her. If he was angry with anyone it was himself. "Layla, you can't just take me clear out of your life. It doesn't work that way! You can't turn your back on love!"

"You did," Layla said, her eyes misting over with tears. "You turned around and walked away. You left me," she continued. "So, I left behind the broken heart. I left it in that damn apartment. The one you emptied out. The day you stopped loving me, I stopped believing in love."

Shane came closer to her, the warmth of his body overpowering her. Baby blues burned into her emerald depths, as he moved closer. He towered over her, his shoulders dwarfing her slight form. "You'll believe in love again," he said, his voice husky with passion and deep with uncertainty. Layla's glare softened, as she realized what he was saying. "Because I believe in love." He pressed his hands against her arms, and pulled her closer to him. He smelled of Stetson, and his hands were slightly chilled. Layla quivered, wanting to lean against him.

Shane bent his head, his lips gently brushing hers. Layla felt the familiar shiver run down her spine as his warmth cascaded over her. She moaned, and leaned into him. Shane's strong arms came around her, and he pulled her flush against him. Muscles tensed against him, her whole body responding to his. Finally, he broke the kiss, leaning his head away from her. He sighed, "Oh, thank god." A smile cracked on Layla's face as she stared up at him. "What?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

She extended her forefinger and poked him directly in the chest, just above his heart. "You love me," she whispered.

Shane sighed again, his blue eyes closing against the truth of the words. Then, he opened his eyes, and stared into her. "God help me, I do," he said softly.

With that, he swept her into a strong embrace, his body pressing against hers. She wore a white cashmere sweater with thin linen drawstring trousers. Already, in the too chilly darkness of night, she was overwhelmingly warm. Shane lifted her arms, and tugged the sweater over her head. Under the sweater was a white lacy bra, and rich peaches and cream skin. Shane moaned as he slid his hands down over her shoulders, trailing his thumbs over her chest, pausing to massage her nipples through the bra.

She responded instantly, her knees buckled and her head swam. Shane moaned again, and lifted her into his arms. "Damn it, Layla," he growled and she lay her head against his shoulder. "How did you do this to me?" he asked as he carried her down the hallway toward the open bedroom door.

She smiled into his shoulder, then kissed his neck lightly, and said, "You did this to yourself." Shane groaned as he laid her gently on the canopied bed.

Layla tugged the jacket off his shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Underneath it was a white oxford shirt and tight blue jeans that rode low on accentuated hips. Boots clunked to the floor as he kicked his feet from them. His tongue ravaged her mouth, pouring over her, and inhaling her at the same time. Work roughened hands explored her waistline, tugging at the drawstring of her linen pants.

His warm, sensuous lips massaged the nape of her neck, leaving trails of moondust along her skin. She moaned against him, drawing her own lips along his jawline, and running her hands through his hair. Her slender fingers raked down his neck, and pushed open the oxford, revealing his rippled chest. She began to caress it with her tongue, kneading at his shoulders, and he shivered. The chilly room had warmed considerably with their body heat. As her lips brushed over his pectorals, he gasped audibly, and leaned into her. She gripped him tightly, bringing him closer to her. Against her hips she felt the swell of his jeans, as it grew harder. It had been months since she had touched him, held him, felt him pressing all of himself against her. Suddenly, all those memories came pouring back, flooding her memory like the tides of the Red Sea.

Shane's warm hands hauled the linen trousers off her hips, dropping them to the floor. White lace underwear and jeans were the only things between him and her. She lifted her hips up to meet his, sending an ache through his body that radiated down to his toes. He needed to have her, just like this. Thin, warm fingers drifted down past his navel, and began to pull at the snap on his jeans.

Effortlessly, she slipped the tight jeans off his waist, where her legs removed them from his body, shoving them down to the floor. He lifted her slightly off the bed, and skillfully snapped his fingers over the bra clasp, removing it smoothly. His mouth found the soft flesh that the bra had covered, and his teeth began to nibble, sucking gently on the swollen pink buds. Layla gasped in surprise as a tremor rolled through her, starting between her legs and working its way out. It had been months since she had even been aroused, and it felt like it was the first time all over again.

His teased her sensitive nipples with his teeth, his tongue, his lips, causing her to moan over and over until she was whimpering for him to stop his teasing. Each sound that escaped her lips thrilled him, made him want to make her do it again. Each moment was a new sensation, something he wanted to feel over and over until time slowed to a crawl, maybe stopped all together. The only thing around for miles was them, and he planned to make the best of the blind snow outside, even if it was simply keeping her warm.

Of course, she was keeping him warm enough for the both of him. Every inch of his body ached for her. But he held out. He had waited months for this, and he was going to do it right. Her responses were expected, delightful, but expected. She had not known another, just as he hadn't. Her frustrations were still venting, just as his were. In fact, until their first climax that's all that would happen. They would get out their frustrations, their tensions. Then, after that first climax, he could make love to her. Make love to her like she had always wanted him too. Make love to her like he wanted to, ever since he lost her.

Layla arched her back, slamming her pelvis against his, moaning. The only thing separating them was a pair of lace satin underwear that barely concealed her arousal. The scent of her perfume and the strange mingle of her shampoo and body wash rushed over him, making him dizzy and uncertain of his place. Hastily, he tugged her underwear off, feeling around with his fingers until he found her spot. She gasped as he hit it, pushing and wiggling his fingers just right. Her nails bit into his shoulder, pulling him down to her. Her lips met his, and he pressed hungrily against her.

He pushed himself into position, lingering just outside her. She moaned, moaned for more. He pressed the head against her, feeling her drip with anticipation. He forced in, only a bit before he pulled out suddenly. Layla cried out, and reached to grab him, but he had frozen, horrified at what he'd almost done.

"I need a condom," he growled against her lips.

Layla narrowed her eyes, wrapped her legs around his waist, and pulled him deep inside her. The penetration was instant, sending her in convulsions. She shook and quivered around him, feeling his release even as she went. He cried out in surprise as shivers racked his whole body. The warm fluid washed over him, sending him into shock. He climaxed deep inside her, shuddering against her. Sweat clung to his skin, cooled by the sudden temperature drop, now that he lay limp against her. He shivered, moving inside her. She convulsed again at the movement, shifting her hips to try to thrust him deeper. He couldn't move, lost to the feeling of completeness that he had felt the moment he entered her.

Then he remembered the skin on skin contact, and he felt the orgasm well up one more time. "You didn't let me get a condom," he growled against her throat, where his face remained, even though he tried to lift his head.

"You don't need one," Layla whispered back, trailing her fingertips along his shoulder-blades. Shane lifted his head and stared at her, questions in his eyes. "I'm pregnant."