by Amelia Autin
Cursing under his breath, a ferocious frown marring his features, he separated himself from her. Mandy couldn't hide the slight wince as his body withdrew from hers, and he cursed again, his expression darkening.
Before she could ask him what was wrong, he'd tugged his jeans up, scooped her off the floor and carried her to the double bed in the corner. He set her gently down on the edge of the bed, jerking the covers free almost before he'd let her go.
"Get under the blankets," he said with rough-edged concern.
Mandy hesitated, suddenly unsure of herself and of him. Then she shivered and hurried beneath the covers, pulling them up to her chin. She watched as Reilly quickly stripped off his jeans and joined her.
He plumped up a pillow beneath his head, then drew her against his body, reassuring her that whatever the problem was, it had nothing to do with what they'd just shared.
He briskly rubbed his strong hands over her chilled skin until she protested, but he kept on, insisting, "I've got to get you warm."
"I'm warm enough," she said, catching his hands and holding them in her own to make him stop. She really was warm enough by now. His big body generated a lot of heat, and the layers of sheet and blankets insulated them. Smiling, she snuggled against him, loving the feel of his naked skin next to hers. When his arms closed around her, she sighed and let herself go boneless.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she purred, rubbing her cheek against his warm, furry chest. She sighed again, little mmms of contentment. After a moment she asked, "Why were you so upset before?"
At first she thought he wasn't going to answer, then he said reluctantly, almost as if ashamed, "I was too rough with you."
"Oh, no," she said quickly, then sensing his need for additional assurance, she continued, "It was … special." He gave her a skeptical look, and she explained, "To be wanted like that, to know how much you needed me … it was special."
"I didn't hurt you?" His usual male arrogance had deserted him, and the almost humble way he asked the question gave her pause.
She shook her head. "No, you didn't hurt me." The protectiveness that came over her right then surprised her. Where had the notion come from that he needed protecting? She didn't know, but somehow she knew it was true. He was vulnerable where she was concerned. All along she'd been afraid that he was going to break her heart again, but now she realized she wasn't the only one with something at risk here. She could hurt him, maybe even more than she knew.
"I shouldn't have made love to you on the floor like that. You deserve better."
She curled her hand around the tense muscles in his shoulder and gently massaged them. "It's not as if we've never done that before," she reminded him, a teasing note in her voice. When his muscles tightened beneath her fingers she realized he was serious, and her voice softened as she reassured him. "Honestly, I'm fine. I'd tell you if I wasn't." When she finally felt him relax, she slid her hand down across his chest slowly, eventually coming to rest at his waist.
He didn't say anything for a while, and Mandy was content to lie in his arms, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her cheek. Her eyes drifted shut as her breathing matched the rhythm of his, but she wasn't quite asleep when he suddenly spoke.
"Damn! I didn't use anything."
Her eyes snapped open when his meaning sank in, and her heart began to pound. Oh, my God! she thought wildly. I didn't even think of it. How could I forget…
He interrupted her thoughts, his tone regretful. "I have protection for you, Mandy. I wasn't planning this, but I would never put you at risk. I bought protection when I was out yesterday. I just…"
Reilly ran his hand over his face and considered what next to say. How could he explain that all rational thought had vanished when he'd seen her sitting in front of the fire tonight, and she'd held out her hand to him? How could he make her understand that the primitive part of him had taken over, that the need to possess her had driven him to the brink where nothing else mattered?
Then something occurred to him, stunning in intensity, and his body went hard in a rush of primeval possessiveness. He envisioned Mandy carrying his child, her body soft and rounded, vibrant with new life. What wouldn't he give for it to be true? Every male fiber of his being pulsed as he thought of fathering her children, and he pictured her with his baby in her arms, nursing at her breast. A child created from their love.
Shocked by his thoughts, he shook himself mentally. Had his subconscious desire for a child with Mandy made him deliberately forget to use a condom? How could he have done that to her?
She was shivering again, shaking with it, as if she could read his thoughts, and Reilly forced his mind back to reality. When she made little movements to free herself from his embrace, his arms tightened around her. "No, don't," he begged. "Don't pull away."
"I can't … I need to … please let me go." There were tears in her voice, and somehow he knew he'd caused them.
"I did hurt you," he said hoarsely. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Even in her distressed state she seemed more concerned for him than for herself, and she shook her head vehemently. "You didn't hurt me," she insisted.
He wanted to believe her, but if he hadn't hurt her with his fierce lovemaking, then why was she weeping inside?
He tried to remember what else could have triggered her emotional response. Had he done something? Said something? Then he realized she'd stiffened in his arms when he'd brought up the subject of birth control. Maybe she thought he didn't want children. Some men didn't, he knew, and since they'd never discussed it before, maybe she was afraid. Maybe if he told her how he felt…
He gathered her closer, brushing his lips against her temple, then took a deep breath and let it out again. "Mandy, if we made a baby tonight, I—"
"No!" She put her hand over his mouth as if she could stop the possibility if she stopped him from voicing it.
He removed her hand and kissed it, then gently but implacably continued. "I love you, Mandy. I know you don't really believe it, but it's true. If you're worried about how I'd react if you were pregnant, I just want you to know that I want children. Your children. I would love our child, with all my heart."
Pain welled up inside Mandy, and a shuddering sob shook her, but she fought back the tears that clogged her throat and threatened to overflow. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't! If she started crying now, Reilly would demand an explanation, and how could she explain without hurting him unbearably? How could she tell him about the child he'd fathered more than a year ago, the child she'd lost the same day she'd lost him?
And how could she tell him what months of grief and despair had driven her to do?
Yesterday she could have told him. Yesterday she hadn't known he could be hurt by the knowledge. She could have told him this morning. She'd been angry enough to want to hurt him as much as she'd been hurt. But she couldn't tell him now. Not after he'd lain in her arms, his head pillowed on her breasts, his eyes closed in absolute peace. Not after his confession of a moment ago.
She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his. "Make love to me, Reilly," she pleaded, her voice husky with unshed tears.
Only in his arms could she forget the remembered pain of her loss, their loss. Someday in the future she would tell him of the baby she'd carried so briefly, and mourned almost as much as she'd mourned him. Someday in the future she would confess other things, too. Someday. If they had a future.
For now, this night was all they had.
Her hands moved over him, rekindling the desire that was never far from the surface. He breathed her name and pulled her on top of him, arranging her body so that his manhood was nestled at the juncture of her thighs, but he made no attempt to enter her. His hands filled themselves with her soft curves, stroking, petting, but this time he was in no hurry.
She was. Oblivion was what she sought. Fire. Heat. Mindless, burning passion. But Reilly had other ideas.
The fire was there. F
lames licked her skin wherever his hands touched, and he touched her everywhere. The passion was there, too. It sparked and sizzled with each kiss, each lingering caress. But he held back from her, as if he wanted her to know, to know, that he needed more from her than sex, that he craved the love they'd once shared as much as the lovemaking.
He wouldn't let her touch him. "Not this time, love," he said, fending off her seeking hands, and she whimpered in frustration.
He rolled them both over, partially pinning her beneath him, then set about driving her insane. Firelight cast dancing shadows around the room, creating an intimate setting for her seduction. And seduction it was. Reilly held both her arms above her head with one large hand on her wrists, while the other hand teased and tormented her body. Long fingers played over one pouting nipple, then the other, then his lips followed where his fingers had led.
When his mouth found her breast and began suckling, she cried out, pleasure radiating outward from the point of contact. The mustache she wasn't used to was both bristly and silky, and incredibly erotic as it brushed against her sensitized skin. He moved to her other breast, nuzzling, nibbling, until she cried out again.
While his lips played with her breasts, his hand crept downward, sliding over her damp skin like a thief in the night, stealing her breath and her sanity. His fingers tangled momentarily in the curls guarding her womanhood, then, without warning, slipped inside.
Her hips arched off the bed when his middle finger located the tiny nub he sought and flicked over it. Her thighs instinctively closed, as if she could dislodge his hand that way, but it was too late. He soothed her with cherishing murmurs, his lips finding hers for a long, drugging kiss, and his hand stayed where it was.
When he freed her arms she wrapped them around him, desperate for something solid and real to hold on to. It made no sense at all, because he was the one working his magic spell on her, but she clung to him in a world that twirled crazily around her.
Here was the mindlessness she wanted, just beyond her reach, but he wouldn't let her rush him. She was gasping for breath, her body responding to his sorcerer's touch, but his fingers kept to the same steady pace, bringing her so far, but no farther.
She moaned a wordless protest when he finally removed his hand. He kissed her once more, then his lips trailed slowly down her body. His mustache teased her breasts, the nipples already hard, tight peaks, but he didn't linger there for long. He kissed the slight curve of her belly, rubbing his unshaven cheek against it for a moment as she quivered uncontrollably. Then he continued on, parting her legs with his body.
When his warm breath touched the petals of her womanhood, she finally realized what he intended, and her whole body clenched. This was something else he'd never done with her before, and the incredible intimacy of it shocked her.
"No." She struggled to free herself, to close her legs and her body to him before he could go any further, but he held her down with ease.
"Don't fight it, darlin'," he whispered. "I've dreamed of doing this for you." And he lowered his head.
She'd read of such things in books, in the romances she loved, and each time she'd skimmed over the details, uncomfortable with the whole idea. It didn't seem right, somehow, as if the focus on purely physical sensation detracted from the emotional involvement between a man and a woman.
She'd been wrong. So wrong. This wasn't a physical act. It was a gift of love, from him to her, and it shook her to the core.
She shuddered under his caressing tongue as he led her ever upward, taking her from peak to peak with no respite. Her hands fisted in the sheets, her body writhing and her heart pounding, as blood roared in her ears.
Then she was perched on the edge of a wave-battered emotional cliff, wanting to fly free, but terrified of falling on the jagged rocks below. The windblown waves were beating higher and higher, a siren song of desire, and she swayed toward them, then pulled back, afraid.
It was almost as if he understood, because his reassuring whisper came to her out of the storm-tossed shadows. "It's okay, Mandy. Let go. Let go, love. I'm here. I'll catch you." And he touched her again.
She closed her eyes as the tidal wave swept over her. Then she was soaring, floating, plunging in a bottomless free-fall vortex of sensuous delight, down, down toward the rocks she no longer feared. Strong arms caught and held her tight as she knew they would, and she clung to them, trusting those arms and the man to whom they belonged to keep her safe.
Somewhere beyond her consciousness someone was calling her name. She had no strength, no breath left to answer. Tiny Catherine wheels were still bursting behind her closed eyelids, and her body still trembled in the aftermath of a cataclysmic explosion that defied description.
"Don't cry, Mandy. God, baby, please don't cry."
Was she crying? Her limbs didn't seem to be attached to her body, but her brain sent the message anyway, and she raised a hand to her cheek to check for herself. Her fingers came away wet. Her eyes blinked open in astonishment, and she found herself gazing into the concerned face of the man she loved.
She couldn't hold the words back any longer. "I love you," she said on the tail end of a sigh, and it felt so right that she said it again. "I love you, Reilly."
His eyes closed, and when they opened again there was so much longing in their shadowed depths that Mandy caught her breath. "Ryan," he said with a husky catch in his voice. "Just once, I…"
She understood, and cupped his face with her hands. She kissed the corners of his eyes, then his lips, little butterfly kisses, and said softly, "I love you, Ryan."
A great sigh shuddered out of him, then he laid his head against her breast, like a tired warrior returning home. In a raw voice, he said, "I've waited so long to hear you say those words."
"I know."
"I thought you hated me for leaving you."
Mandy's hands trembled as they caressed his hair, his back, everywhere she could reach. "I thought I hated you, too," she answered honestly.
"I didn't want to leave." His arms tightened around her, as if he could change the past by holding on to the present.
"I know."
Minutes passed in silence, and as the room turned steadily colder, she suppressed a shiver. With Reilly as her personal blanket, parts of her were warm enough, but now that passion had cooled, the chilly air pressed all around them, and the fireplace was too far away to do much good. She wasn't going to move, though, not for anything. But when she shivered again he felt it, and he rolled over, bringing her with him. Then, still holding her, he dragged the tumbled covers over both of them as best he could.
She snuggled against him, listening to the slow thud of his heart. For a while the only other sounds in the room were the crackling fire and the soft rasp of their breathing. Then he asked, "What made you change your mind?" He didn't wait for a response before clarifying, "I mean, why tonight?"
Mandy thought a long time before telling him the only truth she could. "I lost you once, and it almost killed me. If you had trusted me a year ago—"
"I couldn't." The harsh growl didn't fool her. Not anymore.
She hadn't known when they first met just what a loner he essentially was. She'd fallen for the facade at first, the reckless, flirtatious persona he presented to the world, but it had been those tantalizing glimpses of the lonely inner man that had drawn her under his spell, that had made her fall in love with him. But she hadn't really known him.
She knew more about him now, and it explained so much. Like a lot of cops, he was a throwback to the days when men sacrificed their lives to protect those weaker than themselves. His personal code of honor had strict rules—a man didn't put the woman he loved in the line of fire. Looking back, she realized their time together had been too short for her to teach him that she could be trusted, that telling her of the danger threatening him wasn't the same as putting her in jeopardy. According to his code of honor he'd done the only thing he could to keep her safe, not comprehending the devastation he'd le
ft behind.
She sighed. "I know you believe that," she said softly, referring to his earlier statement, "but it doesn't change how I felt when I lost you, or what I thought when you turned up alive."
"Mandy—"
"No, let me finish. I realized tonight that if I let you go on believing I didn't love you anymore, I'd be doing the same thing to you that you did to me." She kissed the underside of his chin. "How will I ever teach you to trust me if I don't trust you?"
As the words left her mouth her conscience gave her a small pang. If she truly trusted him, if she were completely honest, there were things she needed to tell him, and it wasn't just about the baby. Not tonight, she pleaded with herself. Not when we've just found each other again. I'll tell him, she promised her conscience, but not tonight.
"It's not easy for me to trust, Mandy," Reilly said diffidently. "I wasn't raised that way." His voice was brusque as he explained, "When I first teamed up with my partner, Josh, it took me almost two years before I trusted him enough to let him guard my back."
Mandy didn't say anything, just stroked a hand over his chest, encouraging him to go on.
"Both my parents died when I was young," he said, the tight-edged words dropping into the silence, "and I grew up in foster homes."
"You never told me that before."
"I couldn't. I'd taken on a new identity, a new life. Reilly O'Neill's past wasn't Ryan Callahan's."
She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder in empathy and understanding. And after a moment, Reilly continued.
"I don't know why I wasn't adopted. They never tell you things like that. But trust wasn't a big part of my formative years. "
He shifted restlessly beneath her, and Mandy knew these confidences weren't easy for him to reveal. As much as she wanted him to share the intimate details of his past, she didn't want them grudgingly given. Someday, when the danger was behind them, when they had time, she'd teach him that it was safe to confide in her. For now, she'd settle for what he could give her.
