“For you to, you know, recover. From your ordeal in the woods.”
“I’m recovered, okay?” She glared at him. “So what the hell are you doing, Scott? Are you running away? Because of what happened between us? And what did happen, exactly? Did it mean anything to you?”
He met her gaze at last. “Did it mean anything toyou?” he asked.
She looked away, fresh tears forming. She didn’t want to be this woman, crying over a man who was leaving. But she didn’t want to be a person who pretended things were all right when they weren’t. “You were there,” she said, her voice scarcelyabove a whisper. “You held me in your arms. How can you even ask that?” That moment had meant everything, not because of the intimacy—though that had been pretty special—but because of everything that came before and after. The things they had said to each other. The things they had felt for each other.
“Oh, Lily.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she didn’t resist. She wanted to be stronger than that. Later, she would be. Later, she would tell him everything she thought about him. But for just this moment she stood, eyes closed, feeling his strength support her, his warmth seep into her, the spice and musk scent of him enveloping her.
She waited for him to say something. Anything. But he only stood there, arms around her, chin resting on the top of her head, as if time had stopped.
She wriggled away from him. “Why did you resign from the avy dog program?” she asked.
“I’m going to work for C-RAD,” he said. “Adam has been after me for months to come work for him, and I decided it’s time.”
“Oh.” She studied his face. “And you would rather do that than stay with the avy dog program and SkyCrest?”
“I think I can make a bigger impact with C-RAD.” He looked at his feet, then up at her again. “And I want to be at a place where I’m not your boss.”
She blinked, not sure she had heard him correctly. He moved closer, and stroked her cheek with the back of one hand. “I knew you were special almost from the first,” he said. “But these few days alone with you…and that night…” He kissed her temple. “I knew after that night that I didn’t want to lose you. Not if there was a chance…”
She turned her head and found his lips with her own. This was what she wanted—what she needed. To be this close to him. His mouth was warm and supple, sparking every nerve in her. His tongue was silken against hers, the pressure of his lipstelegraphing how much he wanted her. Need surged through her, and she tugged blindly at his clothing, impatient. He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, their lips still pressed together.
He carried her from the room, into his bedroom, and kicked the door shut behind him. When he spilled her onto the bed and collapsed beside her, she climbed onto him, tugging his shirt up, kissing her way up from his navel, tracing the contours of his abdomen and ribs, teeth scraping his erect nipples.
He pushed her away long enough for him to pull her fleece top over her head, then strip off his own T-shirt. She tossed her bra across the room, feeling reckless. Then he rolled her to her back and began making his way down her body, his lips heated and insistent. He took his time, stroking and kissing until she was wild with wanting him.
He pushed her leggings and underwear to her hips and clamped his mouth over her with such intensity she gasped. He stilled. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She pushed his head down. “No.” Somehow, that was the only word she could muster. He took the hint and returned to attending to her with the kind of attention she imagined an artist paid to his work.
By the time he rolled away from her she was gasping, and protested at his abandoning her. He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
She closed her eyes, trying to pull herself together, but before she had recovered enough to sit up, he was back, a foil packet in hand, divested now of the rest of his clothing. She stared at him, appreciating his lean and muscular body—not the physique of a bodybuilder, but the form of a man who spent hours on skis—muscular legs and toned buttocks, broad shoulders and a trim waist.
She raised up on her elbows and watched as he rolled on the condom. Only when he reached for her again did she realize his hand was shaking. She grasped his fingers. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“More than okay,” he said, and pulled her to him once more.
Their earlier desperate fervor had transformed to a quiet intensity. They moved more deliberately, exploring the contours and curves of each other’s bodies, testing out positions and techniques, watching each other’s faces to gauge the results of each new experiment. But as pleasurable as this was, the tension could only be borne so long. She clutched at him and whispered in his ear. “Now. Please.”
His answer was a deep and lingering kiss, and then he was easing into her, grasping her hips and guiding her until they found a rhythm they both enjoyed, a rocking cadence that left her breathless and soaring. He reached between them to fondle her, and the combination of sensations had her keening with pleasure. When she dropped over the edge she may have moaned his name, and then he was moving faster, his face a mask of concentration.
His climax shuddered through them both, and she held him tightly, hands digging into the muscles of his back, his forehead pressed to her shoulder. They lay together for a long time after, until their breathing slowed and settled, and he eased away from her. He got up and went into the bathroom and returned a few moments later and lay beside her. She cradled her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
“I’m not an easy person to be with,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet.
She let the words and their meaning settle into her. Was this a confession? A statement of fact? Or a tentative promise for the future? “Neither am I,” she said. She rested her palm against hischest, over his heart. “I’ll tell you what I think without always worrying about sparing your feelings.”
“I already figured that one out. I’d rather that than be left trying to read your mind.”
She lifted her head enough to look at him. “I reserve the right to make you do that, too.” She laughed at the flare of panic in his eyes.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“You. Nobody’s perfect. I don’t expect you to be.”
“I’m probably never going to be rich. The kind of work I’m drawn to isn’t always the best paid.”
