Worth the Wait

Worth the Wait

Christina Rhys

Price: $4.99


"HEAT LEVEL: SIMMERING; FOUR STARS!" That's how Just Erotic Romance Reviews describes Christina Rhys work. It also says her unique blend of romantic erotica "will make you want to fall in love all over again." In Worth the Wait you will meet Anna and Robert, unforgettable people in an unforgettable story. Separated by hundreds of miles, these two lonely people, past the first blush of youth yearning for passion and love to return to their lives. Each carries scars and pain from past relationships. Neither is sure that they have the strength or the desire to try again at this stage of life … yet each feels the emptiness inside. Anna, a lonely and determined widow, having abandoned her hopes of finding a special love to soothe the ache in her heart, to keep a roof over her head accepts a job as the housekeeper for a Wyoming rancher. Robert has offered Anna the position only because he can no longer run the ranch and keep up with the housework alone. Little does he realize that Anna’s arrival will bring more than he expected. She will be able to make his blood boil hotter than the food she prepares in his kitchen. She will also ignite a raging battle within his heart. Would he be disloyal to the memory of his late wife if he pursued Anna as his body aches for him to do? In Wyoming Anna has to come to grips with who she is and what exactly she wants for the remainder of her life. For she feels the same physical attraction for Robert, but wonders what he really wants from her? A mere live–in sex partner or a marriage based on with love and mutual lust? And if the former, could she cast aside her personal convictions and settle for an affair? With doubts and issues from their pasts confusing both of them Robert and Anna still cannot ignore the electricity that sets both of their bodies on fire. As they fall head over heels into passion will they decide that their love was WORTH THE WAIT.

PUBLISHED BY: Renaissance E Books
CATEGORIES: Romantic Fiction, Erotica

EBOOKS BY Renaissance E Books

EBOOKS BY Christina Rhys

COPYRIGHT Christina Rhys/

Two hundred and sixty eight dollars. Anna pushed her stylish glasses a little farther up her nose and reread the amount. No, she had read it right the first time. The gas and electric bill was over two hundred dollars. She had just paid the taxes on her run down, fifty year old house and they were almost a thousand dollars. Next month it would be car insurance and income taxes. The only problem was that her bank account did not realize all this and wasn’t cooperating. She simply did not have enough money to cover everything.

Kicking her heavy oak door closed with her foot Anna tossed the bills onto the coffee table. Damn old door anyway. Why did it have to always stick in cold weather? Anna headed straight for her huge country kitchen to grab two aspirins and an enormous mug of hot green tea. They would be of help for a minute, but only for a minute. Anna knew she had reached her point of no return. For months she had been trying her best to avoid the inevitable, but this winter it had caught up with her. Since her husband had died five years ago she had been able to scrape by each month doling out small parcels of his insurance money to add to her widow’s pension. But that money was all used up now. She had been hoping for a sign … any sign … telling her what to do. Glancing over at the coffee table she supposed that a gas and electric bill was as good a sign as any. Anna, dear one, it is time for a change.

Anna disliked change. It had never seemed to bring anything good to her life. She had survived many changes, but each of them had brought disappointment and disillusionment. Unfortunately, now she could run no more. She knew she had to leave this ramshackle old house that had drained all her financial resources. She should have done it as soon as her husband had died. She had felt so overwhelmed back then that she had kept putting it off until next year and then the next and the next. Well, next year was finally here. The basement leaked. The bathroom was disgraceful. It needed a complete remodeling job. She had gotten a few estimates on that about a year ago and nearly fainted when she saw the prices. So when some of her ugly old bath tiles had started to fall off she had grabbed her handy dandy clear duct tape and taped them back up. Any night now she expected the whole wall of tile to come crashing down on top of her as she took her nightly hot soak in the tub. Even most of her old windows were stuck shut and couldn’t be raised. She had actually become frightened last summer when her power went off during a thunderstorm and her house had become stifling rapidly. She had almost panicked when she tried to raise each of the old windows and could not raise one of them. They were either warped or stuck together by multiple layers of paint. She didn’t even want to think about the condition of the old electrical wiring. This house could very well be lethal. More to the point, this dump had become more of a prison than a home.

Where could she go? An apartment? A condo? To do what? Sit cooped up in a tiny box and wither away like the tangerine she had bought at Christmas and never ate? The comparison of herself to those wrinkled, shriveled pieces of fruit covered with disgusting gray mold made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. No! She might as well check herself into a nursing home and plug in the life support systems. That wasn’t living, and she had a heck of a lot of living she still wanted to do. There had to be some other option!

Anna plopped down dejectedly into the spindle-backed chair next to the drafty bay window that was behind her large dining table. She glanced out the frosted window to gaze, eyes unseeing, at her large expanse of land lying dormant under the spell of winter’s cold. Introspection was such a painful process, but it was sometimes a necessary thing. When she was a teen Anna bubbled with the same hopes and expectations as the rest of her friends for a bright future filled with happiness and love. Especially filled with the love of one very special man who could make her heart sing and make every problem that came her way seem tolerable just because he was there. Anna had believed in the power of love. She had believed in dreams and, yes, even a happily ever after. But something had gone terribly wrong. She had not found that one true love. Her soul mate. She had married only to find herself embroiled in a nightmare. Closing her eyes to stop the tears from flowing Anna tried to block all the hateful, degrading words from her mind at the same time.

Being married to an alcoholic who could be demeaning and cruel had never, ever occurred to her. She did not even realize such people existed until she found out through personal experience. Oh, she had heard of men who beat their wives, especially alcoholics, but men who degraded them with words? Men who made their wives feel like dirt with mere words? No, that had never entered her mind. However, her late husband was one of those men. For years, Anna had endured his cruel, demeaning words because they were just that – only words. If he had hit her with his fist or a physical object Anna knew she would have fought back and eventually left. She also viewed his alcoholism as an illness and kept deluding herself that someday he would want to stop drinking and seek help. If he were really suffering from an illness wasn’t it the right thing to stand by him?

She had always thought so. If he had ever physically abused her she would have left in a heartbeat. However, he had only used words. Words to Anna were not weapons. What harm could they do? It was not until it was almost too late that she had realized exactly what they could do. Her self-esteem had hit rock bottom and she found herself eating entirely too much as a way of compensating. When she was finally ashamed to look at her own image in the mirror Anna suddenly came out of her fog and understood what mere words could really do. They killed the soul.

By the time she was ready to try and start down a path of reclaiming herself, her husband had been diagnosed with cancer. She felt she had to stay and help the man until he died. After all, he was the father of her only child. Even though he had been a terrible husband, the man had been a good father. For her son’s sake more than anything else, Anna stayed and nursed her husband until he died, right here in this old, ramshackle house. She alone heard the cruel, taunting words that continued right up until the man had gone into a coma. Anna would not have believed it possible if she had not lived though it. The truth be known, the night he finally drew his last breath Anna was relieved. It was over. Her ears would never again have to hear those sarcastic taunts and criticisms that had been constant companions for most of her marriage. That ordeal was over, but she had been unprepared for the ordeal that was to begin.

Standing to pace across her waxed, tiled floor to warm her untouched mug of green tea still in the microwave, Anna remembered how much hope she had had for the rest of her life. She felt almost like that teen of years ago. She had a second chance – another chance to build a new and better life – but it proved to be far harder than she anticipated. The microwave timer dinged and Anna grabbed her mug and made her way back to her still warm chair.

Since her husband’s death she had tried just about everything that had been suggested to try and build a new life – a part-time job, church activities, family, hobbies, cleaning things that were already clean until she was ready to drop. Nothing had helped. The worst aspect of all was that she had no one to talk to about the mess. One of the best control mechanisms of an abusive spouse was to isolate his victim. Friends were not allowed. Contact with family was discouraged. By the time he died Anna discovered to her dismay that she had no friends. What little family she had had become strangers to her. They were certainly not people she felt comfortable confiding in, to say the least. Oh, she had tried to make new friends, but after so many years she discovered she had lost many of her people skills. She now felt uncomfortable around most people she did not know. That was another ‘gift' her abusive husband had left her. She was afraid to be herself and trust herself with new people. Always in the back of her mind was the fear they would ridicule her, or even worse, cause her to lose some of the hard-won self confidence she had struggled to rebuild. Losing that would be the worst thing that could happen to her at this point. So she had made very few friends. Certainly not many that she felt comfortable trying to have serious, soul-bearing conversations with.

She had tried with one or two, but each gave her the same blank look. They couldn’t understand why a fifty-year-old widow who wasn’t destitute couldn’t be content to spend the rest of her days babysitting grandchildren and organizing charitable functions. They could not seem to understand her need to find someone to share the rest of her life with. What few of them she had tried to be honest with had told her to get a hobby like knitting or doing crossword puzzles to fill her lonely hours. Knitting? Crossword puzzles?

As for a sex life, she learned very quickly that most of the women she knew were actually glad they did not have to have sex anymore. When the topic had arisen at some of the Tupperware parties she attended, she almost dropped her cup of punch when she heard several women laughing about telling their husbands that it was natural for a woman to lose all her sex drive after the meno-horrors. They actually seemed to relish the excuse that vaginal dryness gave them to avoid sexual contact. Anna decided right then that either they were as crazy as loons or she was. Anna was post-menopausal, but she still craved sex. All of it. The foreplay was the emotional balm that made her feel desirable. She needed to feel that some special man truly desired her. Why didn’t these women need to feel that? As for the dryness, any woman who really cared could do a little reading and soon discover that taking some appropriate vitamins would help. Not to mention tucking a tube of Astroglide in the bedside table. What was wrong with these women? Why did they take for granted the very things she lay awake at night aching for? Eventually Anna gave up trying to make anyone understand that her husband was dead, but she wasn’t.

Sometimes deep in the darkest part of the night she felt as if something must be truly wrong with her. Surely it wasn’t normal for a woman her age to ache to feel a man’s warm body lying next to hers in bed. Surely it wasn’t normal for a woman her age to spend as many hours as she did fantasizing about all the wonders of sex she had never experienced. Surely it wasn’t normal for a woman her age to even expect a man to want to place his lips on her clitoris even though lips had never caressed her there before. Surely he would rather bury his face between younger legs and taste younger flesh. Did younger, moist lips sheltering a swollen bud taste any different, any better, than her own older, wet flesh that quivered at the mere thought of a man’s lips sliding over it en route to thrusting inside her beckoning vagina? Normal or not, she only knew she didn’t want her life to be defined in the past; her chance to satisfy these longings couldn’t be over.


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