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Her body. She could use her body to show him how much she cared.
She felt a heartbeat's hesitation. She'd tried this very same tactic a hundred times in her life, tried to get what she needed from a man by giving him what he wanted, the only thing of value she had to offer. Her body. But it had never worked.
This time will be different, she thought desperately. Killian hadn't asked for anything from her. This time,
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for the first time, she was giving herself to a man because she loved him. Maybe it wouldn't matter even if he didn't love her in return. Maybe, just this once, it would be enough that she loved him-----
She came at him like a runaway train. Killian barely had time to brace himself before her body slammed into his. He skidded back against the tent pole.
She landed sprawled on top of him and curled her arms around his body, clutching him.
"Jesus, La?"
Her lips hit his in a punishing kiss. He tried to regain his balance, but she was all over him, kissing him, holding him, molding her body to his.
She kissed his mouth, his cheeks, his eyes, anywhere and everywhere. He heard the broken, ragged strains of her breath, felt the erratic thumping of her heart against his chest. Her kisses were fast and furious and without any intimacy at all.
He held himself back from her, but she didn't seem to notice. She was like a drunkard, consuming compulsively, without regard for the taste of the liquor at all. Someone desperate to get drunk.
He took hold of her shoulders. "Slow down, Lainie."
She made a choked, sobbing sound and pressed her lips to his forehead. "Don't push me away," she whispered hoarsely.
He touched the back of her head, held her to him. "I'm not pushing you away, Lainie. But you're not ... you're not letting me in."
She drew back. "If I was doing it wrong, I can do it differently. Give me a chance." Her voice was raw, steeped in a pathetic desperation that tore through him, made him ache for the life that had done this to her.
He tightened his hold on her shoulders. "This isn't what I want from you, Lainie."
"You . . . you don't want to have sex with me?" Her lower lip trembled. He could see that she was fighting back tears.
"Not this way."
She looked away, stared hard at the tent's shimmering canvas wall. "This is the only way I know."
"I know that." He touched her cheek gently. "Will you trust me?"
She laughed; it was a watery, hiccuping sound. "Does it involve handcuffs?"
"Lainie," he said quietly, waiting an eternity for her to look at him. When she did, the fear and uncertainty in her gaze almost broke his heart. "Trust me," he said again, more softly.
She went so still that for a moment, she appeared to have stopped breathing. Then, slowly, she nodded. "I do trust you, Killian."
At her softly spoken words, he felt a surge of love so raw, so elemental, that for a second he couldn't breathe. He knew that whatever happened in his life, whatever twists and turns it took, he would never forget this moment, never forget the courage of this woman who was so desperately afraid and yet strong enough to go beyond that fear. It gave him a sense of coming home at last, of finding the woman he'd searched for all his life. It wouldn't be like it had been with Emily. Lainie would always survive.
His throat felt tight when he spoke. "I won't hurt you. I swear to God I won't."
She gave him a sad, knowing look. "You know, Killian, Viloula said I was here because I had a lesson to learn, and I think I've just learned it."
"What is it?"
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