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She didn’t want to move. She wanted to drift here forever, so replete that even her soul dozed, sated with such an excess of pleasure that she didn’t want to move. Not forever. Or at least for a few more hours. She wanted to stay wrapped in the intimacy of being alone with him.
She didn’t know how long they had lain entwined, exhaustion wrapping them together. But she knew when she felt him move. Cautiously, carefully, he untangled his body from hers, rolled to the side of the bed, and sat up.
She stayed still, praying, hoping against hope that he was going to lie back down beside her, that he was going to hold her for just a little longer—doze with her, let the final remnants of what he had done to her ease inside her before he deserted her.
Finally, long moments later, she heard him breathe out roughly, then felt his weight ease from the bed.
Damn him. Pain poured through her as she felt a sheet settle over her slowly, then listened as he picked up his clothes and left the room.
He would be back, she
told herself. He wouldn’t leave her alone like this, not after the pleasure he had just given her, the soul-deep possession he had just taken of her. He would not just desert her.
But he had.
She waited, listening carefully, and finally heard the muted drone of the television, the refrigerator door closing in the open kitchen.
Her eyes opened and she rolled over in the bed slowly, suddenly so lonely she could barely stand the feeling that poured through her.
Lifting herself from the bed, she pulled on a robe and then collected a pair of soft, cotton pants and a sleep shirt, before moving from the bedroom.
Standing at the entrance, she stared through the open rooms at the man that had just loved her as no other man had even had a chance to. In the time he had spent with her in that bed, he had marked her body and her spirit, laid claim to her heart, and left her pulsing in bliss. And now he was breaking her heart.
He sat in the recliner, a beer on the table in front of him, the television droning as he sat forward, his elbows braced on his knees, a heavy scowl lining his face.
He looked as lonely as she felt, and just as alone. Like a man who had faced a battle and came out on the losing end.
Moving toward the living area, she watched as his head lifted, his gaze flaring as he stared at her. His eyes were filled with shadows, with torment.
“I’m going to take a shower before I fix dinner. Would you like to join me?”
She took him by surprise. He blinked back at her, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something, before they pressed together firmly, and he gave a sharp nod.
“Cam. ”
He stopped as he moved to push himself from the chair.
“I can understand that you have an aversion to beds, but the next time you leave me like that without letting me know, without a touch or a word, then I’ll walk out of this relationship. Do you understand me?”
His eyes narrowed on her.
“You hurt me,” she continued. “Keep hurting me, and whatever’s growing between us will turn bitter. That’s the only warning you’re going to get. ”
His jaw clenched before he nodded again, dominance and arrogance at war with the challenge she was putting out to him and the demands she was making.
“Hurting you isn’t what I want,” he finally said.
“Then don’t do that to me again,” she whispered. “For both our sakes. ”
She watched his face as he moved to her, the heaviness in his expression, the flash of pain in his eyes. Then his arms were around her, just a little too tight, his body tense as he held her to him.
“Never again,” he promised, though his jaw bunched as it pressed against the top of her head, and she could feel the anger—it had to be anger—growing inside him.
She held onto him and closed her eyes tightly, wondering how in hell she was going to survive the pain she was watching brew inside him. Whatever it was, what they had done in that bedroom hadn’t eased it. The wildness was still there, the flaring desperation, and the haunting shadows that had no explanation.
She loved him, but she was beginning to wonder if love was going to be enough.
The next night, Jaci tossed in the freshly made bed, uncomfortable, cold, and alone. Silence filled the apartment, except for the soft drone of the television.
