Light My Fire: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Donna Kauffman

  Then his throat slammed shut as his world went hot. And wet. And so tight. “Dear merciful heaven,” he managed between gasps as she slid down the entire length of him.

  He held her hips tight when they hit his. He didn’t dare move. He was certain the universe would explode if he did.

  “T.J.?” Her voice was muffled against his neck. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t have if his life depended on it. Then she pressed the sweetest, most heartbreakingly gentle kiss beneath his ear. His heart melted.

  “Come here, Jenna,” he managed.

  She moved her mouth to his. Compliance, it was a first. And oh, she did pick her moments.

  “Look at me.”

  She lifted her head a fraction. Her eyes were huge and drenched with desire. “Something wrong?”

  “No,” he choked out. “I wanted you to watch what you do to me. So you know.” He kissed her, then nudged her head back up again. “Move, Jenna.”

  “What?”

  “Move on me, against me.”

  She tightened her thighs, and he thought his eyes were going to roll up into his head.

  “Like that?”

  “Yeah,” he said through clenched teeth. “Sort of like that.”

  She moved again. He groaned.

  “I’m not hurting you?”

  “Uh-uh.” It was all he could get out.

  She moved a bit more. He died a bit more. “So this feels good?”

  It took an incredible amount of concentration to form a coherent syllable. “Yes.”

  “And this?” she asked, all sweet unrelieved innocence as she rotated her siren hips.

  At some point he’d shut his eyes, because he had to wink one open to look at her face. She was smiling.

  “Like this,” he said with a growl. He pulled her down, clamped one arm across her back, and thrust up once, as hard and deep as he could.

  “Oh, yes,” she cried on a long hiss of approval, and instantly convulsed around him.

  “Yeah, yes,” he said on an equally blissful hiss, and came long and hard.

  Jenna’s body shuddered as T.J. pulsed inside her, wave after wave of wrenching sensation twisting her tighter, filling her, electrifying her. She didn’t ever want it to end. In fact, she discovered she wanted more. It was as if some button long buried had finally been pushed, and she would do almost anything to keep the pressure directly on it.

  She moved on him, eliciting what sounded like a half curse, half moan when she felt him respond.

  “I still need you,” she said, hearing the wonder in her voice. She liked it. Loved it.

  He pushed back when she moved again. “I can’t imagine not always needing more of you,” he said, then found her mouth and took her there again.

  This time it was fast and hard with both of them thrusting and driving. Now that the almost crippling ache was gone, she could deepen the pleasure, enjoy it, take it even higher. And he accommodated her all the way. They thrust in perfect unison, going harder and faster as if testing to see if the other truly was their match.

  Neither faltered. And then, as if by mutual agreement, they would relax, and T.J. would stroke excruciatingly slowly, wringing exquisite sensation from every inch inside her.

  “Never,” he breathed at one point.

  “Never what?” she managed, rocking hard against him, building the fury.

  “Never, no one, only you …” He kissed her neck and drew in one ragged breath, then another. He met her moves even as his gaze silently commanded hers. “You were made for me, Jenna King. Only you. You’re mine.”

  Jenna squeezed her eyes shut as he drove into her. After all their primal sparring, it only took one … again. This time, as she shuddered around him, pulling him deeper, she silently acknowledged that his truth was also hers.

  There was only T.J. And he was hers.

  They must have slept, because it was his lips pressing gentle kisses on her forehead that woke her up. The steady throb in her ankle was a distant concern. She was nestled against him, on top of him. Nestled. She rubbed her face against his sun-warmed skin. Funny, she thought, in all their frenzy of love-making, there was still so much of him yet to explore.

  A hot thrill stole over her, robbing her momentarily of breath, stilling her. It was all so new, so incredible and unbelievably scary. But she wanted it as she had wanted nothing and no one ever before. She wanted this. Him. There was no turning away from her feelings. They consumed her even as they frightened her.

  But it was a direction, and she so badly needed one. Whatever it might cost her later didn’t matter. He mattered. And as she had done with everything else in her life that mattered, she would fight like hell for it. For him.

  She also knew that a path had to be taken one step at a time. With a trip in her heart that was a mingling of excitement and trepidation, she lifted her head, looked at T.J.… and took that first step.

  “Toby was my partner. He died saving my life.”

  T.J.’s lips and hands stilled. He hadn’t known what to expect when she awoke, but her quiet declaration would have been far down on the list. After he’d let it sink in, he realized the dual importance of her offering. She was letting him in, purposely opening the door. And she’d only do that if she cared. He silently rejoiced.

  His mind had been running on an endless wheel as she slept curled on top of him. Still rocked by the mind-numbing sensations she’d wrung from his body, he’d found himself assaulted by emotions he could put no name to. Even as the feverish responses of his body subsided, the feelings in his head, and in his heart, continued to wreak havoc.

  He combed his fingers through her hair, lightly pressing her head to his chest as he rested his chin there. The silence spun out, as did the tension, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It was more a matter of anticipation. Down deep inside, where emotions and feelings he’d never expected to have were slowly uncurling, he understood that what happened next between them would likely create the foundation for the most important stage of his life. He was at once terrified and exhilarated.

  Choosing his words carefully, he finally spoke. “I know what it’s like to lose a partner.”

  She’d been tracing aimless patterns on his chest with her fingertips. The motion stilled. There were several seconds of complete quiet, even their breathing seemed momentarily suspended, then, in a subdued voice that sounded nothing like the Jenna King he was falling in love with, she said, “Was it your fault?”

  His breath returned on a sharp intake. He made a conscious effort to even it out before replying. “No. But that didn’t stop the guilt.”

  Another long pause. “Will you tell me what happened?” The instant the question was out, she started to move, to pull away.

  Her actions caused him to slide out of her, eliciting a dismayed gasp from her that melted his heart.

  “Never mind,” she said quickly. “I had no right to—”

  He clamped his arm around her and held her tight. “Shh. You had every right.” When he felt her relax against him, he released her, then tipped her head back. Her eyes were steeped in a myriad emotions, not all of them nameable. But the ones he could identify strengthened his determination to make this woman his. He could live forever in those eyes of hers.

  “You can ask me anything, Jenna. Always.” When he saw the walls building, he added, “I don’t have to answer, you know.” He laid a finger on her lips to still her immediate response. “But I choose to. Just as you chose to talk to me. We always have a choice.” He slid his finger away, letting it linger on her lower lip a second or two, then drop away as he sighed. “I know I tried to pressure you earlier, because I thought it would help you. I still think it will. I don’t mind sharing if it will make it easier on you; I don’t mind sharing anything with you, period. But it’s your choice. I only want you to do this if you’re ready, not because you think you owe it to me. I’ll always be ready to listen.”

  What he saw in her eyes now was gratitude, which warmed him like no a
mount of sunshine ever could.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” she said, her rough voice even huskier than usual. “But I do want to talk about it. Or maybe need is a better word.”

  She ducked her head, and he cradled it back against his chest. A quick check of the sun told him they still had a little time before the temperatures really began to drop. He was willing to lie out there all night, half-naked, in subzero temperatures, if that’s what she needed.

  “I’d just as soon never think about it again as long as I live,” she said quietly. “But I have to face the fact that my subconscious does, or it wouldn’t torture me with the whole mess every time I shut my eyes.”

  “Did they counsel you at Paradise?” He smiled as he felt her grimace against his chest. This was the Jenna he loved. Somewhere in his mind he noted that this was the second time he had thought of love in conjunction with his feelings for Jenna, but he pushed that away. For now.

  “I think they worked harder trying to rehab my head than they did my leg and ankle.”

  “Your leg?”

  “I suffered some third-degree burns on the area above where my ankle was crushed. I had some skin grafts that required special care. They’re pretty much healed now.”

  He studied her for several silent moments. It was obvious she expected some form of interrogation. It was a reaction he might deserve, but she was about to learn that in this case, he wasn’t the man she expected him to be, but the man she needed him to be.

  “Sometimes it’s the wounds you can’t see that are the hardest to heal,” he said quietly.

  She splayed her palm flat on his chest and pressed, as if to absorb his heartbeat. He would have ripped it out and handed it to her if he thought it would help. It already belonged to her anyway.

  To his surprise, she smiled. “How did someone as obnoxious and clutzy as you get to be so wise?” she said, but there was far more tenderness in her tone than sarcasm.

  Another piece of his soul slipped away, and he let it go willingly. “Dumb luck.”

  He felt her small chuckle. “Uh-huh. Dumb like a fox.”

  He continued to trace his fingers lightly through her hair, letting his mind wander to images of untwining the heavy braid and watching it fall all over her shoulders … or spread out on his pillow. Of course, in his line of work, sleeping on his own pillow was a rare thing.… He pushed all of those thoughts away. He was right where he wanted to be. His main concern and sole focus was Jenna. He’d sort the rest out later.

  “So I gather they didn’t help you?”

  She sighed. “Some,” she admitted, then, with more conviction, she added, “Of course, that they didn’t do more is probably my fault.”

  “I can’t imagine,” T.J. said dryly, and was rewarded with a small pinch. “Hey,” he said, not minding in the least. The lady didn’t pull any punches or take any grief but was well prepared to dish out both. He liked that. “Oh, so you’re saying you were a model patient and willing subject?”

  There was a pause and the sound of a muffled snort followed by a very dignified sniff. Then she peeked up at him, but after less than a second her solemn expression gave way to a mischievous grin. “Wouldn’t know how if I tried.”

  “Naturally, this came as such a shock to those who know and love you.” Of which he was one, he thought, surprised by the restraint he had to use to not voice it.

  Her smile faded, becoming small and sad, dragging his down with it. He tightened his hold on her.

  “Actually, no,” she said softly. “My parents alternately begged and ordered me to be more cooperative. They weren’t surprised by my attitude.”

  “I gathered earlier that you aren’t exactly close to them, but surely they understood the enormity of what you were dealing with?”

  There had been so much to tell, to explain, to work through, yet suddenly Jenna couldn’t find a single word to say. He still knew very little about what had actually happened, yet, in that one statement, uttered so simply, with such unquestioning certainty, she’d heard the one thing that no one else had been able to convey: understanding. It was an indefinable, yet crucial difference she’d never been able to pinpoint. But it was there in his voice, behind his words.

  “My therapist has counseled a number of people dealing with what she termed misplaced guilt,” Jenna finally said. “So she thought she knew. She didn’t. It hadn’t happened to her.” Her voice shook with emotion as she uttered the last words, surprising her with its intensity. And like a snap of the fingers, it was as if a logjam had broken loose inside her. There was suddenly this tremendous tidal wave of words and feelings, bottlenecked for what felt like centuries, all begging for release at once. It took all her willpower to tame them into intelligent phrases, to speak slowly and clearly, instead of giving in to the force of raw emotion. If she did, it would spill out all over him in a rush of overwhelming relief because there was finally, at long last, someone she trusted enough to tell.

  “Jenna, you—”

  His quiet words had her realizing she was indeed clutching him, digging her ragged fingernails into the solid strength of his chest. “It’s—it’s okay.” She consciously relaxed her hands. Slow down, there’s plenty of time, she schooled herself. He’ll be here to listen. He will listen. She took a steadying breath.

  “My parents lost a son, so they—” She broke off as a deep ache welled up in her throat and put a hitch in her voice. She cleared it and pushed on, knowing with some unexplainable certainty that if she ever hoped to reclaim full control of her head and her heart, it was this man who would help her navigate the way. Only this man.

  “They … they thought that what they’d gone through put them in the position to understand what I was dealing with. But they … they …” She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sudden sob. She never cried, never allowed herself to cry, not anymore, not about this. Closing her eyes tightly against the hot threat of tears, she fought hard for composure. On some level she knew that she needed to get through her past to get to the rest. And she desperately needed to get throught the rest.

  T.J.’s fingers never stopped stroking her, soothing her, giving her the rhythm of solace to focus on, cling to. His gentle understanding and easy silence brought tears to her eyes from another place inside her soul. It also gave her the strength to continue.

  “My brother Jonny died in a fire on our ranch when I was fifteen,” she said, her voice shaking. “He was only eleven. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, an electrical storm triggered it, set a barn full of hay on fire. But I … I was in the barn … had been in the barn. It was late at night, and I wasn’t supposed to be out there, but my mare had foaled that morning and I wanted to spend some time alone with her and the baby. Jonny knew where I was, because I’d told him to cover for me in case Mom or Dad checked on us, and he … he …” She took a rough breath and swallowed hard on the growing knot in her throat. “He tried to save me, but I had already led my mare and the baby out the back. The front loft was consumed, and it collapsed almost immediately. He had run in screaming for me right as it … and he was … oh God. I didn’t know he would … didn’t think—”

  She had to stop when her throat closed over. But while the horrifying images of that night, of the fire, of the destruction of her family, of her life, blazed to roaring life in her mind’s eye, instead of the paralyzing fear and racking guilt that usually gripped her, a deep aching tide of pain and sorrow surged through her.

  “It’s okay, Jenna. Let it out.”

  It was only when she heard. T.J.’s smooth deep voice reaching out to her, through the pain, that she realized she was crying. Deep, wrenching sobs shook her entire body … but began to heal her soul.

  He held her tight and continued to stroke her, slow and steady. “I’m sorry for your family,” he said softly, his words barely audible. “I never had brothers or sisters. My folks died in a car accident while I was in Canada visiting my grandfather. That was hard enough. I can’t imagine dealing with so
mething like this.”

  “If I hadn’t … been there …” she managed on sharp, ragged breaths. “I shouldn’t … have … been—”

  “Cry for him, Jenna,” T.J. interrupted, his tone still gentle but firm. “What happened is a horrible thing. Miss him like hell. You’ll miss him forever. Remember him, it’s how you honor who he was, how special and important he was. But don’t beat yourself with his death. Yes, you feel guilty, anyone would. But you didn’t do anything to deliberately put him or anyone else in danger. No one could have known what would happen. You both made choices. His had tragic consequences.”

  Even as some deep-down-where-it-counts part of her latched onto his words, heard them and believed them, she fought it. Decades of blame weren’t easily erased or given up. “But he died because of me,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “Because of me, T.J.”

  She looked so bewildered and lost, T.J. thought his heart would break. “No, Jenna,” he said softly. “He died trying to save you. He loved you. You would have done the same for him. Would you have blamed him if the tables were turned? No,” he answered for her. “You’d be the first one to say that you made your own decision, did what you thought you had to do. Right?” Again he didn’t wait for her to answer, but he could see she was thinking about it, really listening to what he was saying.

  “Let me ask you another question.”

  She sniffed, her eyes glassy with tears, her eyelids swollen, hiccuping air into lungs aching with grief. He knew at that instant he truly loved her. With all of his heart, he would always love her.

  “What?” she managed.

  “If you’d been in the house when lightning struck and seen the fire, would you have tried to save your mare and her baby?”

  “Of course I would.”

  “And if you’d raced in as the loft collapsed … Would you have blamed the horses? Would you expect anyone to blame them?”

  She didn’t respond. But he saw she didn’t need to. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, then her mouth. “It’s hard to accept that other people can make decisions that might hurt them, even kill them, and you can’t do anything about it. Especially if you had anything to do with what motivated the decision.”