Page 140 of Confessions

“Please, Ben, do us both a favor.”

“In a minute.”

“You have to leave—” Throat so dry she could barely speak, she whispered, “Please, Ben, if you really want to make things right, just walk out the door and don’t ever come back.”

“If only I could,” he said as his arms suddenly surrounded her and he lowered his head. For an instant he hesitated, as if he, too, were afraid to take the next step. His lips were poised over hers, bare inches from her mouth.

“Don’t do this.”

“I have to.” Her breath caught and she thought she might die as desire and disgust warred deep within her soul. “I’ve wanted to do this from the minute I saw you at the lake before the wedding,” he said as his lips found hers in a kiss that was hard, and hot and filled with years of repression. She told herself to squirm away, to fight, but the gentle pressure of his mouth, the sweet sensual tickle of his tongue against her teeth and lips, the hard contours of his muscles fitting perfectly against hers, kept her silently pressed against him.

She knew this was wrong, that right now she was vulnerable and that she couldn’t let Ben back into her heart or her life. Yet she couldn’t pull away, and the harder he kissed her, his tongue and hands becoming more demanding, the more distant the warning bells sounded.

She was wrapped in the warm, seductive haze of yesterday. The winter wind was no longer lashing at the house and rattling the windows; no, a soft summer breeze, scented with lilacs and honeysuckle played upon the air. And she was a girl again, a girl in love. Her arms wound around his neck and she didn’t stop him when his hands clamped over the lowest part of her rib cage, holding her close, letting her feel the heat of desire burning through his flesh.

When at last he lifted his head, he let out a long rush of air. “It’s always been like this between us,” he said, as he dropped his forehead to rest against hers. “I don’t understand it.”

“Neither do I.” Her senses began to clear and she struggled away from him. “But it’s got to stop.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong, Ben. We both know it. You use me when it’s convenient and when it’s not, you hurl insults at me and accuse me of things I had no part in.”

She took a step backward, but his strong arms surrounded her again, more tightly this time. He yanked her back against him. “Carlie, don’t—”

“You don’t!” she insisted, refusing to be one of those kind of women who went weak around a man regardless of how he treated her. “A few days ago you accused me of... Oh, Lord, this isn’t worth thinking about. Just let go of me!”

Ben refused. Determination and grit clamped his jaw shut. “I came here to sort things out.”

“They’re sorted. We both know we’re wrong for each other.”

“What we know is that we were young and impetuous and couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

“You thought I slept with your brother,” she reminded him, trying to keep her voice steady. “You thought I got pregnant by him and got rid of the baby. You thought I used him to get to you and you thought he killed himself over me. Oh, God, Ben,” she whispered, blinking against the rush of unwanted tears that filled her eyes. “You blamed me for everything that went wrong in your life.” She had the urge to tell him the truth, to let him know that at one time he, not Kevin, could have become a father, but she couldn’t trust that very private secret to him. Not yet. Probably not ever. “I wasn’t at fault and neither were you. So stop beating yourself up and while you’re at it, do the same for me.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t move a muscle, but she could see by the hardening of his features that she’d finally gotten through to him. He looked as if he were grappling with an inner struggle, and a tiny muscle ticked above his eye. “I know I’ve made my share of mistakes. Big ones. But I just want a chance to start over with you, Carlie. We can’t pretend that the past didn’t happen, we’d be foolish to believe that it won’t affect the rest of our lives, but I want to try...to find a way that we can become friends.”

“Friends?” she repeated, refusing to cry though her heart was twisting painfully. “Oh, Ben, it’s gone too far for that. We’ll never be friends.”

“Then lovers.”

“Too late,” she said, though the pulse at the base of her throat throbbed with ancient memories.

“Don’t you know it’s never too late, Carlie?” he said, drawing her body even closer and kissing her with lips that were demanding and hard.

She felt something uncoil within her though she fought the feeling. She could never fall for Ben again. Never! When he lifted his head, his eyes were glazed and his breath stirred her hair. “I wish I didn’t feel this way,” he said roughly.

“So do I.”

“You can’t deny it, Carlie.” He kissed her again.

She wanted to stop him, to protect her heart, but all thoughts of protest fled as his fingers twined in the strands of her hair and his body, long and lean, drew her down to the couch. Her arms wound around his neck and her body molded to his, instinctively fitting intimately against the hard planes and angles. No words of love were spoken, no vows of forever passed his lips, but he kissed her with a passion that was answered only by her own hot desire.

He found the zipper on the back of her dress and it slid downward in a quiet hiss. She felt cold air on her back, but soon his hands were caressing her, bringing back the warmth, molding anxiously against her skin.

Still he kissed her, his tongue thrusting boldly through her parted lips, his mouth supple and strong. Emotions, old and new, brought a soft moan from her throat.

His weight carried them both to the floor and she closed her eyes against the protests forming in her mind as they tumbled onto her old Oriental carpet. This is wrong, her brain screamed, wrong and dangerous. Stop him now, while you still can!