When Somebody Loves You (28 page)

“How do you know what color my . . . um, butt is?”

He grinned, hearing the reluctant smile in her voice. “It was a lucky guess based on the way you moved all day.”

He considered her with new appreciation. “You’re too tough for your own good, Red. But there may be hope for you yet. That is, if you really can learn how to accept help when it’s offered. Speaking of which, I’ve got a little surprise that just may make you feel better.”

“Surprise?”

“Uh-huh. And while you’re wondering what I’m up to, practice saying these three words: ‘Thank you, Adam.’ ”

Leaving her with a puzzled frown, he slipped around to the back of the cabin.

That morning, when he’d rummaged around in the shed behind the cabin for tools, he’d found an old copper bathtub tucked in a corner. While she was napping, he’d washed it and left it to dry in the sun.

“What in the—Dursky!” she cried in delight as he hauled the tub up the steps.

“Patience, brat!” he ordered. When the tub was finally full of hot water he’d heated over the fire blazing in the hearth, he let her come inside.

She looked from the steaming tub to his face.

“For the little lady with the bruised pride and purple butt,” he said gently.

Her eyes brightened with the threat of tears. “Thank you, Adam.”

“You said that very well,” he said in a gruff whisper. Ignoring that voice of reason, he lifted his hand to her hair. “Soak as long as you like. I’ll just be outside. There’s a T-shirt and a towel on the table.”

The moon rose full and slow over the lake that night. Adam sat on the end of the point and watched it long after he was sure he wouldn’t catch Joanna at her bath.

Then he watched it a little longer.

At last, he entered the cabin quietly. She was curled up in her bed sound asleep. His half-eaten bowl of soup had been cleared away, but the soup pot sat on the stove still simmering. A clean bowl and spoon were set on the table. Something foreign and warm tugged at his gut at her thoughtfulness.

He wasn’t hungry. He sat at the table anyway and ate more soup while he watched her childlike body curl further into itself under the blankets. Then he stripped and slipped into the tepid water that smelled of soap and mineral and Joanna.

The water had cooled way down but he washed slowly, envisioning her lithe body filling this space, imagining the water lapping at her breasts, seeing her soap-slicked hands skimming across her skin the way he ached to have his do.

He swore softly and shot out of the tub.
You’re nothing but a horny old man
, he blasted himself.
And you’re too damn old to be smitten! She’s not for you, so for God’s sake, get a grip.

He’d never wanted a woman so badly. And he’d
never
wanted a woman like her. He’d wanted women briefly and without feeling. He’d wanted them selfishly and without guilt.

But he wanted Joanna lingeringly and with as much feeling as he could wring from her languid limbs. He wanted her so he could bury his guilt deep inside her.

He toweled himself dry, pulled on his jeans, and whipped back the covers on his bed. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he stared at the ceiling, forcing himself to relax. The same disturbing thought presented itself over and over again, though. How many nights would pass before he went to her . . . or before she came to him? And where would he find the strength to tell her no?

Jo awoke with a start, her heart pounding frantically. She sat straight up, brushing the tumble of hair from her eyes as her sleep-drugged thoughts scrambled to connect with the sound that had roused her.

A tortured groan from the far side of the room brought her to her feet.

“Adam,” she whispered, dropping to her knees by his bed. She laid a hand on his forehead. It was beaded with perspiration.

“Adam, wake up,” she said more forcefully. He moaned and threw his head from side to side. He was drenched in sweat, his blanket twisted in a knotted tangle around his hips where his clenched fists dug into the mattress.

She grabbed one shoulder with her good hand. “Adam.” She shook him. “Adam, please, wake up!”

Stormy gray eyes snapped open. His glazed gaze darted wildly around the darkened cabin as he grabbed her wrist and jerked her hand away. He rolled out of bed and slammed her to the floor beneath him, pinning her arms above her head.

“A . . . dam . . .” she cried, struggling as he crushed her body with his weight. “Adam, you’re hurting me. Adam . . . please. Wake up. It’s Jo.”

His breath beat hot against her face, stirring the hair at her temple. The fear and pain threaded through each shaky word must have brought him to his senses.

“Jo.” He heaved a tortured sigh, his breathing rough. “Joanna. Oh, Lord. Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, her heart beating erratically against his chest.

“God, Jo.” Slowly, he released her wrists. Levering his weight onto his elbows, he cupped her face in his hands. A tear slid down her temple toward her ear. He groaned, caught the moisture on his thumb, then pressed his lips to the damp skin beneath the tear track. “Oh, Red, I’m sorry.”

“You—you were having a nightmare.”

He laid his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “Yeah.” He drew a ragged breath. Soothed by her nearness and the sweet, fresh fragrance of her skin, he felt his breathing gradually slow, his pulse steadily lessen.

He’d frightened her, hurt her even, yet when he raised his head to look at her, her eyes were awash with concern. He hadn’t felt that from a woman in years. In that moment, he knew he could trust her. With his deepest secrets. With the awful truths of his life.

Thanking fate or kismet or whatever powers that be for landing them together at this particular place and time, he smiled apologetically and brushed the hair back from her temples.

“You seem to have a penchant for getting manhandled by me.”

Her eyes softened. He felt her body relax beneath him.

“You’re the only man I’d let get by with this a second time.” Her voice was deeper, huskier than he’d ever heard it.

Their gazes locked, and her soft smile faded. She stirred beneath him. Awareness was swift and explosive. The only things between her breasts and his chest were the sheen of perspiration coating his skin and the thin cotton T-shirt she’d worn to bed. He groaned, feeling an instant surge of arousal.

“Ah, Jo.” He buried his face in the dewy skin at her throat, losing himself in her warmth. “You feel so damn good.” He pressed a kiss against her skin, knowing he should let her go. “So damn good . . .” He drew her closer. “And it’s been so long since I’ve wrapped myself around anything but a bad dream.”

Small, warm hands hesitated, then settled on his arms. Slowly, as if memorizing the texture, categorizing each muscle, she slid them up to rest on his shoulders. He shuddered and nipped the delicate hollow of her collarbone. “Send me back to my bed,” he ordered raggedly, “while I still have the strength to let you.”

She arched her neck to give him better access. “Your bed is drenched in sweat,” she whispered. “You can’t go back there. Come to mine.”

His heart stopped, then pounded in double time. Blood pulsed to his groin, rolling over sanity. He forced himself to look into her eyes. They were wide open, full of promise and passion and an innocence that demanded he stop. “This is crazy.”

“I know.”

He kissed her cheekbone. Her lashes fluttered softly against his lips. “There’s no future in this . . . for either of us.” He scattered random kisses that begged her to go, yet enticed her to stay.

“I’m not asking for a future.”

“Dammit, Joanna.” He wrenched his mouth away from the drugging taste of her skin. “This isn’t right. I’m old enough to be your father, and you—”

She pressed two trembling fingers against his lips. “And I’m old enough to know it doesn’t matter.”

He held her gaze in the fire glow. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I want you. I’m sure I need you.”

“You’re sure now. Tonight. But what about tomorrow?”

She brushed back a damp lock of hair that tumbled over his forehead. “I’m not asking for tomorrow.”

Grabbing the wrist of her good hand, he pinned it to the floor above her head. “But you should be!” he bit out. “You should be. And I can’t give it to you. You deserve more.” He clenched his jaw. “And I’ve got nothing more to give.”

“You’ve given me your honesty. That’s enough.”

He shook his head, fighting to do what he felt was right, aching to do what he knew was wrong. “Joanna.” He breathed her name on a sigh. “Are you . . . have you ever . . .”

“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Look.” She gave a small, defiant shrug of her shoulders, her passion suddenly reduced by doubt. “I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

He heard the hurt. Each word hit him like a gut punch.

“I—I thought we wanted the same thing,” she went on. “If you’re trying to find a graceful way to tell me you’re not interested, don’t worry about it.”

She bucked under him, trying to roll him off and away.

He held her fast. She was incredible. Seductive in her innocence, bold in her declaration of need. Yet for all her self-assurance, she didn’t realize the effect she had on him. He wanted her so badly it hurt. He wanted to fill his hands with her round bottom, his mouth with her breasts. He wanted to gentle her, to fill her, to make her cry out in passion. He wanted her so bad he feared he’d bruise her, physically and emotionally. “You don’t know, do you? You don’t know how desirable you are.”

“Desirable? Look. I’m a realist. I’ve lived with this face for twenty-six years. It’s the face the boys used to look past to get to the pretty ones. It’s the face that prompted my friends to leave their dates with me for safekeeping. It’s not a face that elevates pulse rates and inspires heavy breathing.”

He pressed her hand to the center of his chest, where his heart pounded with his need for her.

“Feel this,” he said gruffly. Framing her face in his hands, he forced her to look at him. “If my heart rate elevated any higher, we’d be talking cardiac arrest here. You do that to me.”

Her lashes screened eyes grown cloudy with questions. “Then why are you turning me away?”

Her vulnerability was heartbreaking. Angered that he didn’t have the will to stop, he levered himself above her and offered a reason to send him back to his bed. “Because you don’t have any idea what you’re getting into. Because if I don’t stop now, I’ll settle for nothing less than all of you.”

He crushed his mouth to hers, intent on proving his point. Bracketing her head in his palms, he forced her lips apart with the not-so-gentle pressure of his thumbs. His tongue pillaged and plundered the warm recesses of her mouth with a violence intended to frighten her. But if anyone was frightened, it was he, by the urgency with which he wanted to take her and by the trusting pliancy with which she responded.

He jerked away and stared deep into her eyes. They were glistening with excitement and a fear she couldn’t quite conceal. Her lips were parted and swollen from his kiss. Against his chest, he could feel her heart clamoring.

“Do you understand now?” He ground his hips against hers, seducing her with his arousal even as he issued one final warning. “Do you understand what I want from you?”

She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Yes.”

“Oh, baby.” He groaned. “I don’t think you do. You’re so damn trusting, so naive about the appetites of a man like me. I’ve seen and experienced too much. I want it all, Jo. This is no sweet slap and tickle, no demure nocturnal interlude. I want you in ways you can’t imagine.”

“You’d never hurt me. Adam, listen to me. All my life I’ve had to think about tomorrow and the consequences of what I do today. Just once I want to take the moment and go with what feels right.”

He lowered his mouth to her throat. “And all my life I’ve taken it as it comes, the consequences be damned.”

She turned her face into his hair. “Then don’t change on me now, Dursky. Please don’t change on me now.”

Just that fast, the battle was over.

If there was a surrender, it was his.

If there was defeat, it was sweet.

The trust in her eyes was devastating, and provocative, and so total he promised himself she was right. He would never hurt her. If it took every shred of restraint, he’d make himself go slow with her.

He pressed a tender kiss to her brow, then eased away. Rising to his feet, he extended his hand and drew her up against him, wrapped her in his arms, and held her for a long, soul-searching moment.

Then he led her to her bed on the floor.

For all her earlier bravado, Adam sensed her shyness and self-doubt returning. He shucked his jeans and stretched out full-length beside her. Propping his head on his palm, he curled a finger under her chin.

“A boy might overlook this face,” he said, “but a man never would.”

Her lips parted, glistening. He touched them lightly with his own, finding them quivering and cool. “You taste wonderful.”

Timidly, she lifted to him, extending the contact.

Smiling against her mouth, he deepened the kiss, rimming her lips with his tongue before delving inside, probing gently. “You must have had very stupid friends . . . or they had blind boyfriends.”