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Her eyes narrowed, and her lips clamped shut.
“Don’t even think about remaining silent. We’ll have this out and be done with it.”
“You tell me to find the answer myself, then order me not to remain silent. Make up your mind.”
He shook his finger at her. “This was a discussion best left for another time.”
“You are the one who encouraged me to share all my thoughts with you.”
“Not when I hunger to make love to you,” he snapped.
She felt a pang to her heart, but her chin went up. “I didn’t know there would be specific times to discuss things with you.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He rushed his fingers through his hair again. “Damn, but you’re frustrating me, but then you know that too. You know everything.”
“And that bothers you?” she more accused than asked.
He stomped over to her and placed his face so close to hers that their noses almost touched. “You know the answer to that too. Now tell me what truly troubles you, and let’s be done with it, though I doubt by now either of us are in the mood for making love.”
His words hurt, and she stepped back. Had she approached this matter at the wrong time? Was this rift between them entirely her fault? Would she lose a night of making love with a husband she dearly loved because she had thought only of herself?
Or was she once again surrendering another piece of herself for love?
“Now you say nothing,” he snapped, “which is what you should have done in the first place.” He turned his back to her, walked to the fireplace, and braced his hand on the mantel.
She stood where she was: shocked, disappointed, feeling guilty, all feelings foreign to her. Her world had always made sense, but then she had been in control of it. Love had taken that control from her and had taught her what ... to share?
But hadn’t that been what she was doing when she had attempted to speak with him?
Not truly, and he knew it; he knew her. He knew there was more to the matter than the issue of her new home. So why hadn’t she been honest with him? Thus far he had not grown angry with anything she had discussed with him ... until now.
He certainly had grown angry, and she understood why. He wanted to make love, not talk, and yet she needed to talk before...
She shook her head. She had wanted him to ease her doubts, her misgivings and her fears that this sudden marriage had been forced on her.
She glanced over at him and winced, the scars on his back looking as angry as he had. He had suffered so much, and she had felt most of it when she had helped heal him. He was a good, caring man, and, suddenly, the need to end this senseless rift between them overwhelmed her, and she walked over to him.
With a bit of reluctance but an overpowering need to touch him, she rested her hand on his back.
As soon as her hand connected with his warm flesh, he turned in a flash and grabbed her wrist. Anger mixed with passion in his eyes and in the next second he scooped her up into his arms.
“I’m sorry for my harsh words. I wanted nothing more than to make love with you. I could think of nothing all day but making love to you. Even when I led those two fools on a merry chase, I was thinking of what I would do to you tonight. Let me love you. And then we will talk until sunrise if you wish.”
She smiled and nodded, and hurried them to the bed.
Chapter 25
Trey kissed her like a starving man, then quickly shed his plaid and boots and helped her out of her clothes. When he had shed the last of her garments, and she lay naked on the bed, waiting for him to cover her, he took a calming breath, his body so hard for her that it hurt, and slowly moved over her to cradle her hips between his knees.
He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her lips gently though he wanted nothing more than to ravish them. “I’m sorry for disappointing you.”
She shook her head in protest.
He nodded. “Yes, I did disappoint you. I promised I would always be there for you, and I wasn’t this time, and I regret it.”
“I should have waited,” she said.
“No, you needed to talk with me, and I could think only of making love with you.”
