“Uh…” She shuddered as their lower bodies fit together. “Oh!”
“Too fast?”
“It’s always fast,” she said.
“Not always.” He cupped her bottom and slowly rotated his hips. “We can take it easy if you want.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean, Dana?”
“Not you, me.” She clutched his shoulders. “Whenever you touch me, I…it happens so easily.” Her breath hitched as heat flooded her thighs.
“Are you complaining?”
“No.”
“Good. Neither am I.”
“But this is Derek’s place. We shouldn’t…”
“We shouldn’t use his bed? I already have. It’s firm, Dana.” He moved his hips again. “And it’s big.”
She didn’t know why she was objecting. Over the past two days they had tried out just about every other location in the resort.
“But we don’t need a bed,” he murmured, his thoughts paralleling hers. He lifted her higher so he could nuzzle her throat. “There are plenty of walls.”
She couldn’t understand it. She had been stressed out when they had arrived here, they had been talking about his case, they had been practically quarreling. Yet she wanted this, she wanted him. Too much. Too easily.
Because she was in love.
He wasn’t offering love, he was offering sex. But if that’s all she could get, she was shameless enough to take it. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his head, guiding his lips to hers. Deliberately she shut out everything else and lost herself in his kiss.
She didn’t care how fast it was, or how…carnal. With one purpose in mind, they opened zippers and fumbled aside clothing. Groping, sliding, clutching, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He spun around and pressed her back to the wall. As the familiar waves began to build, nothing else seemed to matter. She closed her eyes and let the passion take her.
Remy dug his fingers into the soft flesh of Dana’s buttocks, unwilling to let her go even after the spasms that had shaken her had faded. He could feel her skin cooling, and he knew she couldn’t be comfortable, but he didn’t want to end this yet.
Sex with Dana was…spectacular. Explosive. More satisfying each time.
And each time, he felt more like the selfish person he was. She had been right. He didn’t want to trust her. He had no problem using her body, but he could see that she wanted more. She deserved more. But he couldn’t give it to her.
She sighed against his neck, her breath puffing warmly over his skin.
Remy felt his body stir once again. And judging by the little wriggle of Dana’s hips, she had noticed it, too. He felt her lips stretch into a smile.
Summoning every fragment of his control, he lifted her off him and set her on her feet.
She staggered briefly, grabbing his forearms for balance. Her eyebrows rose in a silent question.
Remy kissed her nose, zipped up his jeans and stepped back. “Hold that thought,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
She bent down to retrieve her pants, a hint of a blush staining her cheeks. “It’s okay. We should—”
“Trust me, Dana,” he said. “You’re going to like this.” He strode to Derek’s closet and slid open the door. Moments later, he had found what he wanted. He returned to Dana and held out his hand.
She looked at him curiously. “Those are my cousin’s ties.”
“Yeah. Silk, right?”
Her blush suddenly deepened. “Uh, yes.”
He trailed the end of one of the ties over her hand, then draped it around her neck. “Remember what I said I could do with these ties?”
“I remember.”
He glanced behind him. “The bed isn’t a four-poster like yours, but that brass headboard would work just as well.”
Her eyes darkened. She moistened her lips. “Are you saying you want to tie me up?”
He shook his head, sliding the silk from her neck. He turned her hand over and placed the ties in her palm. “Not you, me.”
“What?”
“They’re for you to use however you want.”
“You expect me…to…” She swallowed.
“As slow as you like, as often as you like. I’m leaving it up to you, Dana.”
She focused on the strips of raw silk she held, and understanding finally dawned on her face. He was offering himself to her. He was giving her control. He was trusting her.
All right, he knew it wasn’t the kind of trust she had meant. It was just sex, but it was all he was prepared to offer.
Her gaze moved from the ties to the bed, a shy smile curving her lips. She drew the fabric through her fingers. “Do I get to use lotion?”
His body hummed with anticipation. “If you want.”
A mock frown tilted her eyebrows. “It might stain the ties.”
“There are plenty more.”
“Mmm.”
“We could go back to the cabin if you’re not all right about using your cousin’s bed.”
“Oh, I think this bed will be fine,” she said, taking his hand. “I like things firm. And big.” She looped one tie around his wrist and fastened a loose knot.
He had a moment of uneasiness when he felt the restraint. It was too close to the sensation of handcuffs. But then he concentrated on Dana’s smile and forced the memory back.
Dana coiled the silk ties into two neat little spirals and set them on the night table. Just the sight of them made her hands unsteady, but she wasn’t planning on returning them to Derek’s closet. She’d buy her cousin some new ones, just like she’d buy him some new sheets, although she wasn’t sure how she would explain either purchase.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sat on the edge of the mattress and hid her face in her hands. What had come over her last night? She couldn’t believe she had accepted Remy’s invitation so readily. She’d never done anything like that in her life. To her family and friends, she was divorced, solitary Dana Whittington. To her fans, she was respectable, successful D. J. Whittington. Neither one was the kind of woman who would tie a man to a bed and have her way with him.
But that’s exactly what she had done.
And it had felt good. Oh, so good.
She inhaled shakily. She could still detect Remy’s scent on her skin. She could still see how he had looked, with his arms stretched over his head, his muscles flexed and his eyes gleaming with desire as she had moved over him.
No, she had never experienced anything that came close. It wasn’t just the silk that had bound his hands to the brass scrolls of the headboard. It wasn’t just the fancy bedroom in this eagle’s nest of an apartment. The lovemaking had been so intense because she really had been making love.
She knew what it had cost him to relinquish control. She had seen the shadows in his eyes when he had felt the silk close around his wrist. He’d done it for her, and she loved him all the more for it.
The mattress dipped as Remy rolled toward her. He rubbed his chin over her thigh, then slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her hip.
The warmth of his breath made her shudder with an echo of memory from the night before.
“Leaving already?” he asked.
“It’s almost dawn,” she mumbled through her fingers. “We should get back to the cabin.”
“I fed Morty and built up the fire before we left to check the lodge. That would have kept him comfortable for the night. He’ll be okay for a few more minutes.”
Of course Remy would have provided for her cat, she thought. He might be a virile, inventive lover, but he was also kind to children and small animals. The combination was downright deadly. How could any woman keep her heart safe from a man like that?
He sat up behind her, pulling her back into the vee of his legs. “Dana?”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m n
ot. Exactly.”
He tugged her hands away from her face and held them in his as he crossed his arms in front of her. “It was good, wasn’t it?”
“Mmm-hmm. Each and every time.”
His chuckle was deep, and from any other man would have sounded smug, but from Remy it sounded appealing enough to send more echoes through her awakening body. “That reminds me,” he said. “We shouldn’t keep relying on your timing. The rhythm method isn’t all that reliable. Starting tonight, we’re going to have to dig into your cousin’s supply of condoms.”
“His supply?”
“I checked out the drawers of those night tables when I was here before. There’s enough boxes to outfit—”
“No. Spare me the details,” she said quickly. She didn’t really want to think about Derek’s love life any more than she would want to explain hers to him.
But then she realized the rest of what Remy had said. He assumed she was relying on the rhythm method to avoid pregnancy. That’s what she’d let him believe. When the subject had first come up, she hadn’t wanted to explain why she wasn’t concerned about contraception.
She could let this go. What harm would it do? She could dodge the issue…
No, she’d been doing far too much of that lately, dodging issues. After what they had done together last night, after what he had allowed her to do to him, didn’t she owe him the whole truth? He wasn’t like Hank.
Was that why she had told him everything else but had held this back? Had she been worried Remy would reject her the way her husband had? Oh, she was a fine one to talk about trust. “Remy, we’re not going to need any birth control.”
“Lean back a second and I’ll show you why you’re wrong.”
The way he was sitting, with his legs on either side of her, she could feel exactly what he meant. She twisted in his arms to face him. “I should have explained earlier, but when you touch me, I get…distracted.”
“Dana?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t get pregnant.”
“Unless you’re using something, we—”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “I can’t get pregnant. Ever.”
“What?”
“There were complications after my miscarriage. I…” She cleared her throat. “I’m what they call barren. Unable to conceive or bear children. Do you understand now?”
He was silent for a while. “I’m sorry, Dana,” he said. “I hadn’t known.”
“That’s because I hadn’t told you. Like I said before, I don’t dwell on it. It doesn’t make any difference.”
“The hell it doesn’t. You could have told me.”
“Why?”
“It’s important. It’s the real reason your marriage broke up, isn’t it? It wasn’t just the miscarriage.”
“That’s right. Hank wanted someone who could give him children. When he learned I couldn’t, he wanted his freedom to find someone who could. I couldn’t really blame him.”
“He was an idiot.”
She sniffed. “Morty never liked him.”
“This is why you got so upset when you learned about Sylvia’s abortion. That night at the doctor’s office, I should have realized there was more to it.”
“It didn’t matter. You had your own pain to deal with.”
He regarded her for another minute. “That’s why your work is so important to you.”
“It’s all I have left, Remy. After I learned I wouldn’t have a child of my own, I knew I had to fill my life some other way. Through my work, I can reach thousands of children.”
“You’re a natural with kids. I could tell that when I saw you outside the school yesterday with those children hanging on to your hands, and I can see it in the way your eyes light up when you talk about your work.” He paused. “And I threatened to ruin your reputation. Damn it, if I had known just how much your career meant—”
“You did what you had to do,” she said immediately. “I already told you, your threats wouldn’t have stopped me if I’d really wanted to get away.”
Emotions chased across his face. “Now I know why you always wanted to hear about Chantal.”
Did he? Did he think about this, too? Dana had no husband or child; Remy had a child but no wife. Somehow they fit together too well for it to be coincidence.
Remy and Chantal, two people so much in need of love, with so much love inside them to give, And I want to be the one to love them, Dana thought.
Yes. She could see herself loving them both. She already loved one of them, and it would be oh, so easy to love the other. She had felt the delicate warmth in Remy’s daughter’s embrace, and she’d seen the loneliness in her eyes. If she had a child like Chantal…
The thought that had been buried in the depths of her subconscious, that was so precious she hadn’t dared admit it was there, finally unfurled. It had taken root the first time she had seen the love on Remy’s face when he’d spoken of his daughter. The dreams she’d set aside two years ago when she’d heard the doctor’s verdict weren’t completely dead after all. She would never carry and bear a baby of her own, but what if there was a chance she could be a mother to a child like Chantal?
Oh, God, yes. If Chantal were hers, she would paper the girl’s room with pictures of lovable cats and swashbuckling mice, she would buy her a dozen bunny cups, she would be there every single day to tend all the scrapes and kiss all the bruises and make sure she wore her hat when she went out in the snow.
And if she had a husband like Remy, she would stand proudly by his side and defend him to the world. And each night in their bed she would show him her love and chase away the last of those haunted shadows in his eyes.
Brave thoughts. Easy thoughts. Especially when she was sheltered in his arms. But she couldn’t stay here forever any more than he could. Sooner or later, reality was going to catch up to them, and then…
And then what?
She rubbed her temple against his cheek, feeling her hair catch in the stubble of his morning beard. It was an intimate sensation, the kind of thing married people would share. She imagined catching her hair in his beard every morning as they lingered in their bed and listened for the sound of their daughter’s footsteps in the hall.
She hiccuped, and a tear welled from her eye to splash onto his shoulder. She licked it away, tasting salt and the musky tang of his skin. “Remy, why don’t we ever talk about afterward?”
“Afterward? What do you mean?”
“After we find the evidence you need, after you prove your innocence, after you’re reunited with Chantal, what then?”
“There’s no point talking about it.” His voice cooled. “It might not happen.”
“But what if it does?” she persisted recklessly. “Have you given any thought to what you’ll do?”
“My priority is getting my freedom back. I’ll worry about what to do with it once I’ve got it.”
“You must have thought about it.” She leaned back in his arms to see his face. “Are you going to try to rebuild your business?”
“There’s no point. It’s been gutted. I’ll have to start again from scratch.”
“What about your home? Have you thought about where you’ll live? Would you stay in Hainesborough?”
“No. There’s nothing left for me there.”
“There’s lots of opportunity to start a construction business in Toronto. They’re always building things.”
“You live in Toronto.”
Could he hear her heart beating? Could he see the pulse in her neck and the love in her eyes? “There are plenty of nice neighborhoods for children there, too.”
“So I’ve heard.” He ran his fingertip under her eyes, his gaze on the tears he caught. His throat worked as he swallowed.
“Chantal is a wonderful child.”
“Yes.”
“I thought she was wonderful.”
“So you said.”
“I’m sure we could get along.”
He rubbed his thumb ag
ainst his fingertip. He didn’t reply.
Dana hesitated. He was an intelligent man. He had to know what she was hinting at. Why was he ignoring what she was trying to say?
He dropped his hand to his lap. “Dana, why did you wait until now to tell me you couldn’t have children?”
She inhaled sharply, the question taking her off-guard. “What?”
“When I was John Becker, you encouraged me to talk about my daughter.”
“Of course, I liked to hear you talk about Chantal.”
“That’s when you first acted friendly toward me. It changed how you felt.”
It was true. She had been captivated by the way his features had softened and his voice had rung with pride and love. “Yes, that made a big difference.”
“Were you thinking about the neighborhoods in Toronto that would be good for kids then, too?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Did you see me as a lonely widower, a single father, someone who could give you an instant family?”
That’s exactly how she’d seen him, but she hadn’t even wanted to admit it to herself until moments ago. “Remy…”
“A relationship only for the sake of a child doesn’t work, Dana. I’ve made that mistake before.”
She heard the disappointment in his voice. It was crazy. Unreasonable. He had to know there was more to their relationship than just her desire for a child. Just as there was more to their lovemaking than sex. It seemed as if he were deliberately looking for some reason to mistrust her.
That shouldn’t surprise her, should it? They had been through this yesterday when they’d arrived at the lodge and he’d yet again invited her to leave. Another argument, a different slant on the subject, but the basic problem was the same.
You don’t want to trust anyone, she had said. Not really, not deep down inside where it matters.
The dream that had seemed so near, so bright, curled into itself and began to wither. Far more than his murder conviction was standing between them and the future that she wanted. The problem was more fundamental than she had let herself admit. Because of what Sylvia had put him through, Remy was afraid of opening himself up to the pain of loving again. He’d been running from that emotion as surely as he’d been running from the law.
Fugitive Hearts Page 20
