by Debra Cowan
She knew who Mace was, the core of his honorable character. And she wanted him. But did he want her?
Physically he did—she could feel the proof of that against the small of her back—but in his heart?
Somehow, sitting in the cradle of his arms out in the middle of the lake, she felt strong enough to be the woman he needed. They had survived tonight, together, and for just a night, just a moment, maybe she could be what he required.
She turned slightly so she could see his face. He smiled, but she saw the agony of physical hunger in his eyes. She felt it in the rigid lines of his body. He didn't try to mask it, but he didn't act on it.
"Did I thank you for saving my life?"
"Only about fifteen times." He grinned. "If I get tired of hearing it, I'll let you know."
"Oh, you." She socked him playfully on the arm. "Thank you, too, for saying I handled myself well tonight."
"I think you did, Dev. You do."
She shifted so that she could see him more fully. "You've always believed in me."
"Sure," he said matter-of-factly.
"Much more than I've believed in myself."
He watched her, his gaze guarded and uncertain. His arms stayed loosely around her, but she could feel a sudden tension lash his muscles.
Her gaze traced the firm lips, the shadowed jaw, the blue eyes turned to crystal by the reflection of the moon on the water. "We were in danger of losing our lives tonight."
"Dev, you don't have to—"
"Shh." She placed her fingers on his lips and thrilled at the sensation that shot up her arm. For the first time in over a year, she knew what she wanted, knew where she was going. "You face that kind of danger every day. I understand you better now, Mace. We made it through. Together."
He watched her, not moving other than to flex his fingers on her shoulders.
"I know who you are, Mace. And I learned a little more about who I am tonight." She sighed. "I'm so safe with you. I always have been."
His eyes were somber, his body rigid, features stoic. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted him to take away the cold, fill the hollowness that gnawed at her. Make her believe that she could be everything he needed.
He rasped, "How'd you get so strong?"
"Because of you."
"No."
"Yes." Her gaze moved slowly over his features, stroking them the way she longed to with her hands, lingering on his lips. "Your strength gives me strength. It's the only way I could've survived tonight."
Tension vibrated in his muscles, and she realized suddenly that he held himself so rigidly because of her. She wanted to thaw that icy control, recapture what they'd once shared.
She lifted a hand to his face, running her fingers lightly over his stubbled jaw and chin. Wariness passed through his eyes, but it couldn't mask the hunger, the raw need there.
He wanted her, but he wouldn't act on it, wouldn't risk that she might reject him again. Her heart ached with regret.
"I know what's going on, Dev." He gripped her wrist, removing her hand from his face. "You're feeling the effects of tonight. You want to be reassured that you're okay, that we're both okay."
"I don't know about that. I only know that I want you." She ran her fingers over his lips and he swallowed, grasping her wrist to stay her movements.
"This isn't a good idea. I'm sure you've noticed that I'm turned on as hell right now—"
"Then what's the problem?" She leaned into him, pressing her lips to his temple.
For a long moment he was completely still. His heart hammered against hers. She could feel the ragged rhythm of his breath caress her neck. His muscles were quivering.
His hands tightened on her waist as if to push her away and his voice was like velvet over gravel. "I've held off touching you, because I don't think you really want this. I'm not sure I do, either."
She eased up onto his lap, sliding one arm around his neck. "I do want it, Mace.' "
Surprise and uncertainty widened his eyes. He wished he had the strength to move away from her, but his restraint was worn clean through. "I think we're going to regret this."
"I'm not." She could see he wasn't going to kiss her so she pressed a soft kiss to his temple, then the crest of his cheek. "I'd never regret it."
His arm tightened around her and she could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her right hand. She pressed a trail of tiny kisses down one side of his face to the corner of his lips.
He caught her chin and forced her gaze to his. "You've got to be sure," he said hoarsely. "Are you?"
"Absolutely. I want you and I know you can make me warm again."
A warning clanged in his mind. She was feeling exactly as he'd suspected. He tried to pull away, but she brushed her lips against his. His heart overruled his reason. He'd wanted her for so long. How could he reject her, even knowing there was no future in it? Why should he?
She wanted him. He wanted her. He refused to consider that his oversimplification hid a deep, intense sense of desperation. He'd never have her again. Why not one last time?
He tilted her face up to his and captured her lips. Want pulled deep in his belly at the contact; triumph surged through him. At last she was his again, even if only for a brief time.
He lifted his head, whispering her name.
"Oh, Mace." She bent her forehead to his, then kissed him again. She gave herself up to the deep, dark taste of him.
One strong hand braced her back, the other gently framed her face. His kiss deepened, his tongue skimming over her teeth, stroking the moist heat of her mouth. His tongue rasped over hers like hot dark velvet.
She had never felt the urge to make love with Josh. She'd existed quite happily without sex for the last year, and now she knew why. She'd been waiting for Mace.
Urgency flared within her. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body, the supple leather of his skin next to hers. Tearing her mouth away, she yanked off her shirt, then shimmied out of her shorts and knelt before him clad only in her bra and panties.
She reached for his shirt, and he helped her pull it over his head. But when she moved to the top button of his jeans, he grabbed her hands.
"No. Not this fast."
"But—"
"Don't rush it, Dev," he rasped. "Make it last as long as we can." He grinned crookedly and she smiled shyly in return, anticipation coiling in a tight knot low in her belly, throbbing between her legs.
He turned her to face him until she straddled his lap, her most vulnerable place now open to him. "I thought I'd never see you like this again," he growled raggedly against her throat.
Her blood heated; anticipation flicked along her nerves. She wanted him to touch her, ached for it, but for long seconds he simply looked at her.
Then with one finger he traced the left strap of her bra. He halted at the swell of her breast and repeated the procedure from the top of her right strap. She followed his gaze as he looked at her, watching as he studied the sheer lace. His gaze burned with awe, as if he'd never seen her before and never would again.
His gaze locked on her breasts, her nipples barely revealed through the transparent lingerie, and as she watched, they peaked, just by a look from him.
Her breathing quickened and moist heat exploded between her legs. She moaned, and at the sound, his eyes burned fiercely. But she could still see banked uncertainty in his eyes, feel it in the restrained movements of his body. She wanted him to surrender to her—totally—as she was to him.
Wanting to get closer, to feel his skin against hers, she braced her hands on his chest, lightly so she could flex her fingers against the supple play of muscle and skin and sinew.
"I've missed you, Mace." She nuzzled his lips, wanting to taste him, wanting him to touch her with his hands, his tongue the way he used to. A sense of rightness unfolded within her.
He splayed his hands around her waist and ran them up to the curve of her breasts. "You've lost weight."
"You should be glad," she countere
d languidly, nipping at his ear, his neck, "since I'm sitting on top of you."
He grinned, his teeth a wicked slash of white in the darkness.
She kissed him again, searching out his tongue with her own, stroking the rough velvet until liquid warmth eddied between her legs. She moved her hands into his hair, steadying herself, loving the feel of the silk waves on her hands, the warmth of his scalp.
His hands slid up her back, then around to her ribs and upward, unhooking her bra. The flimsy undergarment fell away and he cupped her breasts, his large hands tender and dark against her pale skin. Her nipples pouted for him, dark rose in the moonlight.
"How can you be even more beautiful?" He bent and placed a soft kiss on the swell of each breast.
Her breath caught. Something inside her shifted, as if a piece of her had been loose and only now returned to its place. She pressed him to her, fighting back tears. "Oh, Mace."
His warm lips closed over her nipple, tonguing the already turgid peak into throbbing awareness. She shifted on his lap, seeking to get closer to him, seeking relief from the tension that pounded through her in a low cadence.
He had dreamed of her, ached for this. His hands and lips moved over the satin fullness of breasts that felt familiar, yet somehow sparked the anticipation of something new. He knew the silky textures of the skin on her nape and her back, but they were revealed to him in vivid sensation as he moved his hands over her, tasted her with his tongue.
She wanted to touch him, but could only grip his shoulders as he moved his lips to the other breast. His fingers skimmed down her belly, lightly tracing a line above her lace panties.
She pressed hard against his straining erection, wanting all barriers between them removed. His hand stroked to the small of her back and he slid his hands inside her panties, pushing them down. She lifted so he could take them off, then she sank back down onto him, his jeans rough and heavy against her bare skin, his heat pressing against her.
He cupped her bottom in his big hands and his muscular thighs quivered beneath her. She reached for his mouth again, needing the contact, the fusion with him. His tongue deliberately toyed with her, eliciting a rush of warmth between her legs.
She trembled. Reason became clouded and she welcomed the fact. She wanted only to feel warm inside, safe, secure. She knew Mace could do that for her.
His hands stroked over her bottom, then the insides of her thighs, caressing her skin reverently. One long finger tested her, then slid inside. She bucked, moaning his name.
He stroked her, coiling a knot of fire-sharp tension low in her belly. She found herself moving with the rhythm of his hand, wanting to wait for him, yet powerless to slow the response of her body.
Clutching at his arms, which strained with control, she threw back her head and surrendered to the searing wind that reached for her. Jolt after jolt crashed through her body. As though she were starved and thirsty for his touch, her body blossomed like a drought-bitten field.
She opened for him, moaning his name and pressing against his finger. Her world tilted. Needing balance, she wrapped her arms tightly around him.
His other hand fumbled at his jeans, and somehow he managed to get them open and push them down. She helped, vaguely aware of doing so. She was desperate to feel him inside her, to merge their bodies the way they used to. Mace would drive away the cold, the emptiness.
"I'm safe," she gasped, barely able to remember to tell him.
"Me, too."
She was barely aware of the pause before his palms, slick with sweat, steadied her hips, and she sank down onto him. He filled her, and for a brief, fleeting instant it was enough. Mace. Light showered through her. She was home.
Then he began to move.
Devon threw back her head, holding tight to him as they moved together. She felt as if she were speeding high above the earth, racing for the moon as he thrust into her with a steady, measured rhythm that snatched her breath and erased all thought. The stars seemed to explode over their heads.
She was aware only of Mace's labored breathing, the feel of his shoulders beneath her hands, the musky soap scent of him. His lips moved over her and she felt the scratch of whisker stubble on her breasts and neck before his lips claimed hers again.
Her legs tightened around his trim flanks. They moved faster now, both reaching for the moon. She was on the edge of release when he buried his face in her neck and climaxed.
Only then did the last of his restraint disappear. Only then did he surrender to her as she had to him.
At the realization, her inner muscles convulsed and hot silk rained through her. "Oh, Mace."
I know, Dev. I know. Overwhelmed by the sharp stab of love in his chest, the regret of what they'd lost, he couldn't speak.
The ache, carried in his heart since she'd left, eased, assuaged by this deep, basic connection with her. But how long before it returned to burrow, low and biting, into his gut again?
Breathless, they held on to each other, their hearts echoing a ragged rhythm that gradually slowed.
She stroked his shoulders, his back. Her breasts cushioned his chest. Sweat slicked their bodies and the scent of their lovemaking nestled between them.
For a few minutes they looked up at the stars. Devon lay her head on his shoulder and gave herself over to the peaceful rocking of the boat, the sense of completeness that washed over her as Mace cradled her close, whispering her name.
At last she was warm. She was filled. She was home.
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
Early morning sunlight peeked through the slatted shutters and slid over her skin, gilding it to a pearly sheen. They lay spoon-fashion, her back to his front, in the cabin's full-size bed, where he'd carried her after she'd fallen asleep in his arms.
After he'd sworn not to touch her, he'd made love to her.
She'd only made love with him because she wanted to feel safe, needed to be reassured that she—they—were all right after the incident at the motel. And Mace had needed it, too. Still, he cautioned himself not to make it more than that. A mutual caring, a mutual comfort. That was all.
But her soft scent mingled with his, and his body grew hard again with the feel of her. He wanted to drown in her sweet warmth, let the pleasure of their bodies erase his regrets, the ache that hadn't quite eased deep inside him.
Her firm bottom pressed into his arousal and his arm rode her waist. He couldn't stop touching her, thumbing the velvet peak of her breast, stroking the satin of her belly.
After all this time, the ache of missing her should've abated. But even making love with her last night had only assuaged it for a while.
"Mmm." Devon shifted against him, sending a pleasant tingle to his growing arousal.
Torn between wanting her and knowing he should put some distance between them, Mace's hand stilled on her breast.
She turned toward him and lay there quietly, her palms stroking his arms. Easing up, she pressed a soft long kiss on his lips, and desire tautened his belly. But she wouldn't meet his gaze, and he knew then that she felt the same doubts he did.
His erection throbbed. They should probably talk about what had happened last night. He knew she'd wanted to be reassured after that close call at the No-Tell Motel—so had he—but being with her last night had been about more than comfort sex.
Last night had not only shaken him, it had renewed him and made him believe that making love with her would resolve the differences between them. In the glaring light of day, he realized how wrong he had been. Still he couldn't make himself relinquish this feeling of being reborn, of being infused with warmth when he'd lived in coldness since she'd left.
She rested her head on his arm, which lay on the pillow above her. Her eyes, cloudy with sleep and desire, glowed a clear silver-green. Suddenly they widened. "I slept!"
He chuckled, squeezing her. "I'll say."
"I didn't have the nightmare!"
He stroked strands of dark ha
ir away from her cheek and mouth. "That's good, isn't it?"
"It's because of you." She snuggled into him, her breasts nudging his chest, her hands roaming over his shoulders.
At her trust, that phantom hope flared in his chest again. He grinned and wished they could go back. "That's because you were too worn-out to have nightmares."
"I've thought before that they were gone, but…"
He felt goose bumps rise on her flesh and he hugged her tight.
"Sometimes I think they're just waiting for me."
Her arms locked around him and she buried her face in his neck, her breath misting his skin. Mace wanted to hide her away, protect her from all of it. At the same time, his head was urging him to protect himself. Doubt surfaced once more.
She wants you, but for how long this time? The thought wound through him, over and over.
Her voice was muffled. "Thanks for being there for me last night. I wanted to be with you." She looked up at him then and he saw the uncertainty that mirrored his own. She was no more sure than he about what they'd done. "Making love with you … made me feel safe and … helped me forget."
Disappointment stabbed his heart. She had only needed him to hold the fear at bay. But hadn't he found comfort in her, too? And they both knew that as soon as O'Kelly called, they'd head back to Oklahoma City and their separate lives.
Her hands moved over him in a studied desperation. Her eyes darkened with a near plea for him to take her, to make everything disappear.
"I know there's still the matter of the trial, but I can do it. I know I can."
Her fierce vow tugged at his heart. He could hear the self-doubt beneath her words and he suddenly wanted to pilot this boat into the sunset and never look back. But that wasn't fair—not to Bill, whose killers needed to be caught, and not to Devon, who still had something to prove to herself.
Her hold on him slackened and she moved her hands to his face, caressing his jaw. In her gray-green eyes, he read invitation and hunger and a fierce need. The same need pulsed through him even though his head urged him to ignore it.