Fugitive Hearts

by Ingrid Weaver

  “No, Remy.” She splayed her fingers over his shirt. “I don’t believe you could kill anyone.”

  He regarded her in silence for a while, his heartbeat hard beneath her palm. Slowly his lips relaxed into a smile that zinged right through to her toes. He lifted her hand to his mouth. “Thank you.”

  The words were quiet, yet they sounded as if they had been pulled from the depths of his soul. Her eyes misted as she tried to imagine what it must have been like for him this past year. To lose everything, to be condemned to a life without hope, it truly must have been hell.

  He’d been so alone, for so long. She had been alone, too, but it had been her choice. She had been too afraid of making another mistake, of trusting the wrong man, so she hadn’t wanted to try. Yes, she had her career, her family and her friends, but it had been far too long since she’d felt the simple, basic pleasure of a man’s touch.

  Only, there wasn’t anything simple about this, was there? Nothing had changed. He was still a wanted criminal. He was still using her, and the path they were on could lead them both to disaster.

  Yet everything had changed. Their relationship had irrevocably shifted, and she realized why she had fought this moment for so long.

  She hadn’t merely given Remy her trust.

  She was on the verge of giving him her heart.

  Remy pressed a kiss to each of her knuckles, then turned her hand over and rubbed his lips across her palm. “Do you have any idea how good it feels to know you believe me?”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Can you?” He looked into her eyes, his gaze probing hers. “You saved my life when you brought me in from the storm. You made me warm again. Knowing you believe me does the same, but in here,” he said, tapping his index finger against his chest. “You’re like sunshine in the winter. You make me warm inside.”

  His words moved her. She felt them curl into her soul like a soft embrace. She made a wordless sound that to her ears seemed suspiciously like a purr.

  With nipping kisses, he traced from the base of her thumb to the inside of her wrist.

  She watched the corners of his lips curve as he tasted her skin, and she shuddered. His smile was hungry. Predatory. And indecently appealing.

  What was it she had wanted to say?

  He eased the cuff of her sweater farther up her arm, continuing his leisurely sampling. “Remember what I said two people need in a relationship?”

  She was finding it difficult to concentrate. “You mean trust and honesty?”

  “No, not that.” He licked the inside of her elbow.

  “Mmm. Common interests?”

  “No.” He slipped his arm behind her shoulders and slowly eased her backward until she was lying on the rug. “I mean sex.”

  Her stomach quivered. “You said you wouldn’t want to base a relationship on it.”

  “No, what I said was sex shouldn’t be the only basis.” He stretched out beside her and hooked his foot behind her leg, rolling her hips against his. “That doesn’t mean we can ignore it.”

  She gasped at the contact of their lower bodies. He was right, she couldn’t ignore that. She could feel the length of his arousal press against her stomach. Slow, heavy heat gathered between her thighs.

  He cupped her cheek, his fingers not quite steady. “I said I wouldn’t lie to you again, and I won’t.”

  “Remy…”

  “I’ve been in prison for almost a year. Before that, it had been twelve months since I had shared my wife’s bed. I haven’t had sex in so long…” He breathed hard, his nostrils flaring. “I’m a man with less than nothing to his name, because I don’t even have a name I can use. But I’m still a man, Dana.”

  Oh, yes, she thought, nestling closer. He was that.

  His fingertips feathered over her eyebrows, her cheeks, her lips. “And I want you. I’ve wanted you from the time we met.”

  She turned her head to kiss his fingers.

  His eyes glinted. “Each night when I lie on the couch and listen to you turn over in bed, I think about all the ways we could make that mattress creak. And counting positions sure isn’t a good way to get to sleep.”

  Positions? Were there that many? she wondered, tantalized at the prospect of finding out.

  “Did you know that when I was staying at the lodge, I would watch you through your window and I pictured myself sliding under the quilts and—”

  “You watched me?”

  “Derek’s telescope,” he said, no apology in his voice.

  An odd thrill tickled through her at his words. What had he seen? What would she have wanted him to see?

  “But it’s been so damn long.” He wrapped a lock of her hair around his fist. “I’m afraid if we start, I won’t be able to stop.”

  She swallowed. He was leaving it up to her. Despite his obvious desire, he was waiting for her to make the decision. “It’s okay,” she said. “I trust you, Remy.”

  He went still, his jaw clenching. “I don’t have any protection, Dana.”

  Protection? It took her a second to realize he was talking about condoms. It took even less than a second for her to reply. “That’s okay, too.”

  “If there’s any chance that you might get pregnant—”

  “No, Remy.”

  “Wrong time of your cycle?”

  She nodded an affirmative, not wanting to think about that now, not with her blood pounding and her body humming.

  “We both know I can’t make any promises,” he continued. “I could go back to prison tomorrow.”

  “No, don’t say—”

  “It’s true, and you know it.”

  Yes, she did know it, but that didn’t stop the response that was continuing to tingle through her body. Instead, it grew stronger. He could be wrenched from her life tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. There was no way to be certain that he’d ever be able to prove his innocence.

  “Dana?”

  “I don’t want promises, Remy,” she said, grasping the front of his shirt. She yanked him closer. “I just want you.”

  He didn’t give her a chance for second thoughts. He rolled on top of her and lowered his head.

  In the heartbeat before his lips met hers, Dana knew that this time, she had been the one who had lied. She did want promises. For her, sex had always been an expression of love. She had never had a one-night stand in her life, and she wanted to be able to have more than only one night with Remy.

  But she had learned there was a big difference between what she wanted and what she could have. Even one night would be better than none at all. Shutting out thoughts of tomorrow, she closed her eyes and parted her lips.

  He accepted her silent invitation and deepened the kiss with a bold, slow slide of his tongue. Despite his warning, he was deliberately holding himself in check. She could feel it in the tension that trembled through his arms and in the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He tasted her tenderly, thoroughly, as if they had all the time in the world.

  Yet they didn’t, did they? Dana moved her hands to the buttons on the front of his shirt. She undid the top two, then found her hands trapped against her breasts as he settled his weight more completely on top of her. Without breaking their kiss, she arched her back and twisted, pushing him to his side so that she could reach the rest of his buttons.

  They had lain on this hearth rug before, when he was pretending to be John. She had undressed him before, too, she realized. Right in this spot, she had dragged off his clothes. His body had been lax and unresisting. He wasn’t lax now. Every muscle and sinew in his incredible body was hardened to steel. She parted his shirt and flattened her hands on his chest, sighing in pleasure as she ran her palm down the molded ridges of his abdomen.

  Oh, but he was magnificent, she thought. A perfectly formed male. His skin was taut and smooth and heated beneath her touch. She stroked upward, running her fingertips over the crisp curls that stretched across the breadth of his chest, then lowered her hand once more,
following the line of silky hair that led downward from his navel.

  “Dana,” he murmured against her lips.

  The line of hair didn’t stop at the top of his jeans, and neither did she. Flicking open the stud at his waistband, she dipped her fingers inside. “Mmm?”

  He grasped her wrist. “I told you, it’s been a long time.”

  “Mmm.”

  “If you keep that up…”

  She ignored his warning. She didn’t want to go slow. It would give her too much time to think. He had said it had been almost two years for him, but it had been longer than that for her. And with Hank she had never felt this sense of urgency. Was it only because of their situation?

  But she didn’t want to think, she reminded herself. Sliding downward she kissed the center of his chest.

  He remained motionless for a trembling moment, until suddenly his restraint snapped. He grasped her waist and rolled her on top of him.

  She lifted her head, flicking her hair from her eyes. “Remy, what—”

  “The trouble with winter,” he muttered, grasping the hem of her sweater, “is too many clothes.” He tugged her sweater over her head and flung it aside. Before she could utter a word, he had his hands behind her back, unfastening her bra. He flung that aside, too, then cupped her breasts in his hands.

  This was what she wanted. There was no room for thought, no time for doubts. All she could do was enjoy. She braced her hands on his chest, lifting herself more fully into his caress.

  He smiled and curled upward to take her nipple in his mouth.

  She cried out at the jolt of delight. Remy made a low, rough sound in his throat and rolled to his side with her as he rubbed the edge of his teeth across her nipple. She groaned and grasped his head to hold him there, loving the way he made her feel.

  She barely noticed when his hands left her breasts to unzip her pants. She was only dimly aware when he shifted her from one side to the other as he eased them down her hips. So she should have been shocked when she felt his hand slip between her thighs, but she wasn’t. It felt too…right, too natural to resist.

  His breath was hot and fast on her stomach as he slid downward, kissing his way to her waist. With his mouth and his thumb, he started a rhythm, firm and steady, pushing her closer, lifting her higher.

  Dana shuddered in disbelief as she felt the first wave hit. It was impossible. It was so fast. She had never had this happen so easily. How could—

  “Let it go, Dana,” he murmured. “Please. For me.”

  “Remy, I—”

  “We need this. I need this. Now.”

  “Oh,” she whispered. He was doing something unbelievable with his fingers. “Oh, oh, oh…” She arched upward, her body shaking with a sudden, unexpected climax. “Oh, Remy.”

  Before the wave receded, he rolled her to her back and came to his knees. With quick, savage movements, he stripped her pants the rest of the way off her legs and opened the front of his jeans.

  Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. His shirt hung open, his chest gloriously bare and golden in the firelight. His skin was damp, his lungs heaving. He pushed down his briefs and grasped her knees to part her thighs.

  She had never seen a man more blatantly aroused. It was more than his size, more than his hardness. It was the flush on his skin, the trembling in his muscles, the rigid tendons in his neck and arms. It was the way his dark gaze burned into hers with a demand…and a plea.

  Dana moistened her lips and stretched out her arms.

  He came down on top of her, his entry swift and sure. His big body moved in the rhythm he had used before, and soon she felt the tingles starting all over again. It was too much, she was going too high, it wasn’t possible for it to get better….

  But it did, it did. She dug her nails into his back and lifted her hips to meet him, feeling reality slip away. Nothing existed, nothing mattered, except the man she held and the pleasure they were giving each other.

  And just as she reached the point when she felt every nerve in her body straining, clenching, weeping for relief, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the rug.

  “Remy,” she asked shakily. “What—”

  “Open your eyes, Dana.”

  She hadn’t realized they were closed. She blinked to bring his face into focus.

  He rocked back on his heels to sit up with her, pulling her legs on either side of his hips. Locking his gaze with hers, he clamped his hands on her waist and slowly raised her up.

  She felt every inch of him. And she felt him swell even more. Her eyes widened. Her breath caught.

  He smiled and brought her down hard.

  The world exploded in a shower of sparks. Dana screamed and clutched Remy’s shoulders.

  He moved her again.

  She was going to die. This was too much. She couldn’t possibly…

  He surged upward, his entire body tensing. He shuddered, his breath escaping on a low, grating moan. The sparks turned to stars. Hot. Powerful. Too many to count.

  “Dana.”

  The sound of her name, the need in his eyes, the sudden heat that flooded her sent her over the edge. She sobbed and collapsed against his chest.

  Remy tucked the quilt around Dana’s shoulders and glanced at the window. The sky was already growing light. The night was almost over.

  But the night should never have happened.

  What kind of man would take advantage of a woman who had saved his life? What kind of animal was he, to use her body over and over to satisfy his needs? Of all the things he’d done since he’d gone over that prison fence, what he had done to Dana last night was the worst. He should be buried in guilt right now. He should be tormented by his conscience.

  Instead he felt so damned good he wanted to turn around, crawl back into her bed and do it some more.

  He rubbed his face and headed for the bathroom. “You really are a bastard,” he muttered to himself as he flushed the toilet and zipped up his jeans. He scowled at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. “She’s a good woman. She deserves better. You managed fine for almost two years. Couldn’t you keep it in your pants for another few days?”

  The bastard staring back at him didn’t look remorseful in the least. He looked sated.

  Remy slapped shaving cream on his cheeks and grabbed the razor, removing his morning beard with quick, vicious strokes. Yet, if he’d hoped to punish himself into feeling guilty, it didn’t work. He rubbed the remnants of lather off his face with a towel and braced his hands on the edge of the sink.

  Maybe he’d lived with guilt for so long, he’d become immune.

  Or maybe he couldn’t bring himself to regret something that had felt so…inevitable. This had been building for days. They were two adults. They were unattached. They were mutually attracted. Where was the crime in letting nature take its course?

  Sure, he’d used her body, but he’d made certain it hadn’t been all one-sided. She hadn’t resisted. She had been with him all the way. His gaze was caught by a red smear on his shoulder, and he twisted to see his back. Four sets of parallel pink scratches crisscrossed his skin.

  He couldn’t help it. Despite the confusion of emotions that were warring between his conscience and his body, he grinned. Oh, yeah. Dana could give as good as she got.

  Before he’d married Sylvia, he hadn’t been a saint. He’d enjoyed women. He’d enjoyed sex. As a matter of fact, he’d enjoyed sex so damn much that it had led to his disastrous marriage. But being with Dana had been different. She was nothing like the other women he’d known. He’d never experienced anything like what they’d shared last night. It was so good it could prove addictive. He was tempted to follow through with his threat to tie her to the bed…

  His grin faded. Once they had started, there was no doubt she had been willing, yet how much choice had she actually had? He hadn’t physically forced her, but she hadn’t been completely free, either. From the moment last week when she had spoken his real name, he had made su
re she couldn’t leave. He had coerced her and he had used her.

  I trust you, Remy.

  And she did. She had told him she believed him. She had trusted him with her body.

  The question was, could he trust her? She had lied to him before, and she had lied well. As long as Dana believed she had as much to lose as he did if she went to the authorities, he would be safe. Why change that now? Just because they had made love? He knew better than to confuse sex with anything deeper, didn’t he?

  Trusting a woman, getting swept away by a sexual attraction, had gotten him into this trouble in the first place. He was still dealing with the repercussions of his mistake with Sylvia. Could he afford to be wrong this time?

  But could he live with himself if he wasn’t wrong?

  Remy cursed under his breath and turned away from the mirror, no longer able to look his reflection in the eye.

  Chapter 12

  Dana woke up to the jangle of keys. She opened her eyes just as Remy moved beside the bed. There was a moment of confusion, when her sleep-fogged brain wondered what he was doing in her bedroom, but her body had no trouble remembering.

  Although she lay motionless, her pulse thumped. All she needed to do was look at him and her heart came alive. He had put on his jeans and a shirt, but she knew exactly what the fabric concealed, and how his skin had gleamed in the firelight.

  She had touched that skin, slid across it and felt it slide over her. She’d learned how he had tasted as the rumble of his moans tingled through her cheek. She knew the texture of his hair and the scent of his neck.

  But for the life of her, she didn’t know what to say to him now that it was daylight.

  She lifted her gaze to his face, hating the awkwardness. “Hi.”

  “Good morning, Dana.”

  She sighed. Just the sound of his voice set off a reaction deep inside. She had always loved his voice. It was low and strong and certain, like the growl of distant thunder.