Page 24

They moved together, in a dance that melded them as one.

Her pleasure built until she was no longer a sentient being, but purely a feeling one.

And he kept stoking the flames with every movement, every tender touch of his lips along her jawline, over her neck.

He played her like the most fragile instrument, until she reached a shattering crescendo.

He held her as she pulsed around him, her entire body alive and awake and in ecstasy.

And then he moved a little faster, and joined her there.

When he sank to the mattress beside her, never letting her bear his full weight, he pulled her back into his arms, and cradled her there, his powerful heartbeat strong and steady beneath her head.

And she knew right then that she loved him.

Somehow, she had fallen in love with this tortured, wounded soul.

And so she had to heal him. She had to.

Romano looked at her, lying there with the cold morning sunbathing her naked shoulders, painting the soft smile she wore even in her sleep. The cat had curled up near her head again, sleeping and purring and apparently not half-starved as she’d feared he would be.

He’d done something idiotic. He’d had sex with Lexi.

And she was going to think it meant more than it did.

More than it could. One look at that soft smile was all it took to confirm that.

She’d think it had been some kind of fate thing.

But she’d be wrong. His heart had been blown to microscopic bits by one of White’s bombs, and Humpty Dumpty stood a better chance of healing than he did.

She stirred a little, snuggling closer to him, one arm wrapping around his waist. Thick black lashes whispered open, and huge dark eyes gazed up at him. The image of the timid woodland creature was back. Only this time it wasn’t wary. It was trusting and content.

He was the animal here. He’d used her like a toy, and now he had to make that clear to her. He had to wipe that damned smile off her face before…

Before what, Romano? Before it gets to you?

His throat went dry, and he heard someone whisper, “I’m not ready for this sort of thing.”

“Hmm?” she asked.

The way she asked it made “hmm?” sound erotic. And it wasn’t until she asked it that he realized he’d spoken aloud.

“Nothing.”

She bent her head to kiss his chest. Romano slid to the far side of the bed. Finally her dazzled expression cleared a little, and she looked at him, waiting, and he knew that she knew what was coming.

“Is something wrong?” she asked slowly, her probing eyes like pins, pricking him everywhere they landed.

“No. It’s just …” He shook his head, looked around the room for a metaphoric hiding place. “I need to throw some more wood on the fire.”

“No, you don’t.” She sat up, leaning her back against the headboard and tugging the covers up with her. “I get the feeling you have something to say, and I think your first three words are going to be ‘about last night.’”

Romano sat on the edge of the bed, looking with regret at the soggy ball of denim on the floor. What the hell was he supposed to wear?

“We had sex. What’s there to talk about?” This as he got out of the warm bed, wincing at the cool floor against his bare feet. He pulled on his shorts, then hunkered down in front of the fireplace and made a huge production out of poking the coals and arranging more wood atop them.

“Just sex,” she said softly.

“Yeah.” Coward, keeping your back to her while you deliver the blow. “Yeah, Lexi, just sex. I was relieved you weren’t dead, and I think you were too. We’re both adults.”

She was silent. He was afraid to look at her. Afraid he’d see tears in her eyes, and afraid of what that would feel like. He didn’t want to hurt her. Better she understand things now, though, than to let her get any crazy ideas about?—

The impact of an unidentified projectile against the back of his head cut his thoughts in half. “Ow!”

He turned, rubbing his head with one hand, holding up the other when he saw another book coming at him. Hardcover, too. She couldn’t have thrown a paperback?

The second volley ricocheted off his forearm to land on the floor.

He eyed the lead crystal lamp on the bedside stand and tried to judge the distance to the door.

She didn’t reach for it, though. She just sat there, glaring at him as if she’d like to see him beheaded.

She didn’t say one word. And he didn’t ask.

“I … uh … I guess I’ll go check on the furnace. It should be running, shouldn’t it?”

Nothing. Only blazing eyes as he backed out of the room, into the freezing hallway in nothing but a pair of boxers.

Lexi blinked at the books lying on the floor with their pages folded under them like broken wings. She’d thrown them at him. She tilted her head to one side. Why?

A short time ago, she would have reacted quite differently. She’d have been hurt, yes. But she’d probably have accepted his rejection. She might even have considered it inevitable.

Not now, though. Without thinking it through, she’d reacted with an anger unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life. A moment ago she’d been mad enough to seriously hurt Romano. Because he’d taken advantage. He’d hurt her, and dammit, she wasn’t going to put up with that.

She blinked down her surprise, and turned the idea over and over in her mind. Her outlook had changed in the few days she’d spent with him.

A pathetic wail interrupted her thoughts, and Jax butted her in the chin. “Poor kitty,” she said softly, petting him. But he swatted her hand.

“Men,” she muttered. “I know, you’re hungry. I’m on it.” She got up, snatching a bathrobe from the back of a chair and shrugging into it before Jax leapt into her arms. He nudged her chin with his big head and emitted a purr like a race car, punctuated intermittently by meows.

“Poor boy. You’ve been neglected, haven’t you?

At least those brutes didn’t hurt you.” Without using her hands, which were full of yellow cat, she stepped into slippers and headed downstairs.

Jax brushed his head over the collar of her robe and against her cheek.

She ran her hand over his fur and he arched to her touch, complaining loudly if she dared to stop stroking him for a second.

She was stepping softly, almost on tiptoe, as she descended the stairs. She realized as she crossed the living room that she was sneaking through her own house, just because she didn’t want to run into Romano again.

Why?

Damn him for making her feel this way. She was bubbling over with the things she wanted to say to him.

The problem was, she wasn’t sure what those things were.

If she opened her mouth right now, she had no idea what sorts of emotional declarations might come out.

She was furious with him for the callous way he’d acted.

The raw intensity of her emotions frightened her.

She’d wait until she was calmer, clearer, before she tried to voice them.

She shivered as she scraped cat food from a can into Jax’s empty dish. He dove into the food eagerly. Lexi turned to the sink to rinse the can, and was brought up short when she saw two other cans sitting there, empty, but rinsed.

She was sure she hadn’t left them there, and couldn’t imagine any of Mr. White’s terrorist thugs would have bothered to feed her cat. How odd. She turned on the faucet, but nothing came out.

“The pipes are frozen,” Romano said from behind her.

She stiffened at the gruff sound of his voice, but didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she shrugged and opened the refrigerator, taking out the milk and pouring a little into Jax’s water dish.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She set the bowl of milk into the microwave, closed the door, hit the 30 second button. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He didn’t reply. The microwave hummed as seconds ticked by on the digital panel and the timer beeped. She tested the milk with her forefinger before setting it on the floor. Jax dove into it, tail straight in the air.

“You spoil that cat.”

“So did someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone fed him while I was away,” she said, nodding at the two empty cans on the side of the sink.

“Someone pulled up the rope ladder and closed your bedroom window, too,” he said. “Maybe someone else was looking for you. Any friends or relatives who might’ve stopped by?”

“I don’t have any friends, and certainly no relatives.”

She finally turned around, out of excuses to keep her back to him. Then she blinked. Romano wore a pair of her father’s trousers, olive drab, with grass stains on the knees.

He plucked at the front of the sweater he’d donned. “My clothes are still wet. I hope it’s okay that I borrowed some of your father’s.”

“They fit you.” She blinked again, looking him up and down, almost laughing at the bitter irony. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? You have so much in common.”

She saw his frown, saw his lips part as if to ask her to explain that remark, or to deny it. But he seemed to think better of it.

“I probably should have said something before, but the furnace has been broken since October. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed, but?—”

“Listen.”

She tilted her head, and in a moment realized the ancient oil burner in the basement was running. She lifted her brows in surprise.

“The nozzle was clogged,” he told her, as if she’d know exactly what that meant. “It just needed cleaning.”

“That’s good. When the basement warms up, the pipes will probably thaw on their own.”

“Not that it matters,” Romano said slowly. “We’re not staying.”

“Maybe you’re not staying,” she replied. “But I am.”

“Lexi, just because no one is here now doesn’t mean they aren’t watching the place. They might check in from time to time.”

She shrugged. “I’m staying. I need to be here right now.”

He frowned until his brows touched. “Why the hell do you need to be here?”

“I don’t know yet.” She looked at the way her hands were clasped together, wringing each other, and made them stop, bringing them deliberately down to her sides. “I just feel I have to be here. And nothing you can say is going to make me leave. If you want to go, go by yourself.”

“You know damned well I can’t leave you here alone.”

“Why not, Romano? Why the hell not?”

“Because you could end up dead.”

“That would be a real strong argument, except that it’s my life.

My choice. Not yours. You don’t honestly give a damn anyway, so you have no say in what happens to me.

” She strode past him, heading for the stairway, wanting only to go back up to her warm bedroom and put on her heaviest sweater.

She was halfway up the stairs when his voice came from the bottom, stopping her.

“My full name is Connor Lionel Romano,” he said, and his voice was very low, very soft. “And I give considerably more than a damn what happens to you.”

A tremor ran up her spine, and she closed her eyes as all the air left her lungs. “I wasn’t trying to force you to say that,” she whispered, knowing that was exactly what she’d been trying to do, consciously or not.

“I know.”

She turned slowly, met his eyes, saw the turmoil in them. This wasn’t easy for him. He was hurting. It was palpable, his pain. He was almost writhing with it, and she wanted to ease it for him. She offered him a smile that felt weak, and lifted her brows. “Connor Lionel, huh?”

His lips turned up a little at the corners, and the confusion in his eyes cleared. “Yeah. And that’s the last time I want to hear you say it.”

“All right … Connor Lionel.” She turned around and continued up the stairs. Romano followed. She went back into the bedroom, rubbing her arms and hurrying to stand close to the fireplace. He came in behind her, but she noticed his hesitation in the doorway.

God, he really was scared to death of her, wasn’t he?

After a moment’s apparent indecision he came inside and closed the door.

“You, uh … you can bring the cat, if you want,” he said, coming to stand beside her. Not too close beside her. Not even close enough.

She realized with a little surprise that she wanted to be close to him, close enough to feel his body heat and hear the pounding of his heart. She wanted to be wrapped up in his arms.

“Bring the cat where?”

“To the camper.” He glanced down at her with a wary frown.

“I told you, I’m not going back to the camper.”

He swore a long stream, turning in a slow circle, ruffling his hair with one hand. “I thought we settled this.”

“We didn’t settle anything. I said I was staying here and I meant it.”

“And what about White’s thugs?”

“What about them? They’ll find us just as quickly if we leave. There’s no way we can get out of here without leaving clear tracks in that new snow out there, unless you sprouted wings overnight.”

He opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. Finally, he lifted his hands, palms up. “Okay. All right. We’ll stay.”

Lexi felt her brows shoot upward in surprise. She tilted her head, questioning him without a word.

“When you’re right, Lexi, you’re right. We’re staying.”

She smiled fully.

And he smiled, too, as if he knew every thought that went through her mind. So she held his gaze, and she thought about the way it felt when he kissed her, when he touched her. His smile faded, and his gaze dipped lower, skimming over her neck and down the front of her robe.

“It’s cold,” he said. “Why don’t you get dressed while I try to find something for breakfast?”