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For an eternity, neither of them spoke. Lainie stared hard at the fire, trying not to feel warmed by it. "You shouldn't have done that," she said without thinking, and she honestly didn't know if she was talking to him or herself. The moment the words escaped, she wished she could take them back.
"Done what?" he asked, but he knew. She knew he knew.
Reluctantly she looked up. "Kissed me."
"You kissed me first."
"Yeah, but my kiss was nothing. Yours . . ." Across the fire, their gazes locked, and her words dwindled into silence. She tried to think of a way to finish the sentence that would make a joke out of it. Nothing came to mind. Her words hung there in the quiet, limp and pathetic.
"I felt it, too, Lainie."
Her heart tugged hard. She bit down on her lower lip and wished she could look away, but his gaze held her in a velvet grip that seemed to promise everything. "I didn't say I felt anything."
"No, you didn't. I did."
Suddenly she believed everything she saw in his
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eyes, and it scared her to death. She lurched to her feet. "This is about sex, isn't it?"
He frowned up at her. "What?"
She surged toward him, yanking her sweater off and flinging it toward the tent. "This . . . seduction of yours. It's about sex. You want to have sex with me."
He rose slowly, his gaze fixed on her face. "Lainie, don't?"
"You don't have to screw with my mind, Killian. If you want sex, just ask for it." She laughed, a harsh, hollow sound that brought tears to her eyes. She fumbled desperately with the buttons on her pants. Her fingers felt swollen and useless. "Anyone can have sex with me."
He grabbed her by the shoulders and drew her to him. She tilted her face to say something?anything. But the look in his eyes stole her voice. He looked sad and infinitely tired.
"Lainie," he whispered hoarsely, drawing her close for a hug. His strong arms curled around her and held fast.
With that touch, so gentle and reassuring and safe, she felt all the fight go out of her. She sagged against him.
Finally he drew back, but didn't let go.
Not wanting to, but unable to stop herself, she looked up at him. "I don't know what you want from me, Killian." Her voice was harsh and barely audible. Shame filled her chest, made it difficult to breathe. "But whatever it is, I don't have it to give."
"Maybe you do."
She stilled, almost forgot to breathe. Her heart beat so rapidly, it sounded like thunder in her ears. It was a provocative thought, romantic. Maybe ...
She had a second's worth of fairy tale, then reality
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hit, crushing her newborn hope. She'd had these thoughts a million times in the past, and a million times she'd been forced to admit the humiliating truth. There was something in her, something dark and ugly, that made men push her away. And she was too old now to think that she could change.
"I don't have anything to give you, Killian." "You couldn't be more wrong, Lainie." At the quiet, gentle way he said her name, she looked up. He touched her cheek, a feather-stroke that brought a shiver of response.
"I'm not wrong, Killian. Trust me." "No," he said softly. "You trust me." The words, so close to Viloula's advice, made Lainie's heart beat faster. "What do you mean?"
"Lainie, it's been fifteen years since I wanted a woman." He paused, seemed to steel himself. "And that was Emily. I loved her." Lainie swallowed. "I know."
"Since Emily's death, I haven't cared about anyone." He sighed. "No one ... until now." "Don't?"
He silenced her with a look. "I don't pretend to know what it means, or where it's going with us, Lainie. But I know this: You can give me what I want. Because all I want is you."
