by Sandra Brown
She gasped softly.
Cage was lying beside her, perfectly still, an arm's length away. Not a single muscle moved as he lay on his back, his arms raised, his hands folded beneath his head, watching her. It seemed inappropriate to say anything, so Jenny returned his silent stare and said hello only with her eyes.
He had taken a shower while she was asleep. He smelled of the same soap she had used. His jaw had been shaved clean of whiskers, and she wondered with a half smile if she had dulled his razor.
His hair was arranged as haphazardly as usual. The disorder of those dusty blond strands was rakish, cavalier, and so typically Cage, she longed to run her fingers through them. But touching him seemed inappropriate, too.
For the moment the most provocative caress was eye contact. So Jenny did nothing at all but look at him with the same intensity with which he was looking at her. Longing vibrated between them like humming harp strings. Their senses were perfectly attuned to each other, but for the time being they tacitly agreed to indulge only their sense of sight.
His eyes hadn't wavered, but she knew he was looking at all of her at once—her hair, her face, her mouth, her breasts. How could he miss seeing her breasts? Jenny could feel them trembling with emotion, their crests thrusting against the soft cloth of the T-shirt as though vying for his attention.
Nor could he miss the vee where the wedge of her panties showed above her bare thighs. Surely that spot hadn't escaped those smoky topaz eyes. Under their ardent stare, the erogenous parts of her body warmed considerably and began to throb with a pleasant ache. Still, Jenny couldn't tear her eyes away from him.
She noticed that the undersides of his arms weren't as darkly tanned as the rest of him. She wanted to sink her teeth into the hard muscles of his biceps, but she knew Cage would be shocked if she did. Women were supposed to be passive, weren't they? Besides, such conduct was beyond her experience.
The tufts of hair in his armpits looked soft and downy. Would they tickle? No doubt. Did she dare find out? Her eyes fell away shyly for a moment before she raised them again.
Ever since that night in Monterico she had been dazzled by his naked torso. Leisurely now, she studied it thoroughly and took in every detail, the curved muscles of his chest, the dusting of hair, the way the broad expanse tapered into a trim ribcage. His stomach was hard and flat. His navel dimpled the center of a narrow abdomen.
He was lying with his legs crossed at the ankles. His feet were bare. He was wearing a pair of jeans.
And they were unbuttoned.
They were the regulation jeans of roughnecks and cowboys, with the old-fashioned button fly. The seams were faded white and the denim was frayed in spots. They gloved his long thighs and cupped his sex. A ribbon of hair arrowed down into the shadowed opening.
Jenny realized she had been holding her breath for a long time. She closed her eyes and exhaled on a slow sigh. It was easy to figure out what had happened. As soon as Cage had finished showering, he had given way to sleepiness and fallen onto the bed without bothering to button his jeans. After all, he had driven all night.
He was covered, it was just…
Her heart hammering, Jenny opened her eyes again. Almost against her will they trained on Cage's lap. With each breath his stomach rose and fell, setting his muscles into play in a hypnotizing and erotic ballet.
Jenny was entranced. She felt compelled. Why resist?
She touched him.
Her fingertips found that sleek center stripe of hair that bisected his torso. They rode it down to his navel. Her index finger shyly tested the depth of that beguiling indentation and twirled in the hair encircling it.
He was so warm and alive. Energy emanated from him and sent electric currents chasing up her fingertips. He was raw masculinity. She felt weak and defenseless against his power. Inexorably drawn, her hand moved down. The hair she encountered just inside the opening of his jeans was darker and denser and springy.
She hesitated and turned her head. When she looked into his face, she cried out softly.
Tears were glistening in his eyes. He hadn't moved, hadn't altered his position in the slightest, hadn't said a word, but his eyes were filled with emotion. That touched Jenny in a way that transcended the physical.
Love had never been demonstrated for him. He had never been fondled or smothered with affection. Loving touches had been absent from his young life. He had been deprived of unselfish giving.
Jenny didn't hesitate. Indeed, she didn't even think about it. Her mind had nothing to deliberate.
Her hand disappeared inside his jeans.
A heartfelt groan erupted from Cage's chest. Lowering his hands, he clutched at the sheet beneath him. He bared his teeth in a grimace of ecstasy and ground the back of his head into the pillow. The tears were squeezed from the corners of his eyes when he clamped them shut against the passion that flooded through him like a rushing river.
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and pushed them down over his hips, then bicycled his legs until he could kick them away.
Jenny, her eyes glazed with wonder, looked down at her hand. He more than filled it. He was full, thick, hard, and hot. She admired him with uneducated yet eager eyes.
Acting purely on instinct, she turned and lay down close to him, resting her cheek on his thigh. Her hair spilled over him like a silky mantle. He sifted through it with unthinking fingers guided only by touch.
She ached with love for him and wanted him to know how marvelous she thought he was, body and soul. She lifted her head from his thigh, bent down, and kissed him.
What happened then was beyond her imagination or comprehension. With a soft moan Cage turned his head and began nuzzling her. Her panties were somehow discarded, though she could never recall quite how that came about.
She felt his hands on her thighs, stroking and caressing and parting. He touched her in the most supremely intimate way.
Then his mouth was there, warm and wet and gentle.
He made love to her and she caressed him with her lips and tongue. The world became a bowl of cream and she was submerged in it. The atmosphere was rich and delicious and velvety. In this realm there existed no jagged edges of feeling, no difficult emotions, no harsh realities. Everything was smooth and complete and understood. There was an absence of ugliness and ambiguity. All was beauty and light.
When he turned and braced himself above her, he whispered, "Open your eyes, Jenny. See the one who loves you."
Her eyes drifted open. They were hazy with passion, but Cage knew she saw and recognized him. With one swift thrust he sheathed himself in her satiny warmth. When he was secured deep inside, he smiled down into her radiant face.
He watched the patterns of expression dance across her features in response to his rhythmic stroking. He saw the wonder dawn in her slumberous eyes when he changed tempos and brought her to ever-higher levels of arousal.
He watched the light burn inside her soul when she experienced her fulfillment … and he saw her shine with love when he experienced his.
* * *
"You're precious to me and I love you, Jenny. I always have." His lips were close to her ear. The dusty blond strands of his hair mingled with the richer brown tones of hers on the pillow. His cheek felt as fevered as hers when he pressed them together. "I love you."
He raised his head and gazed down into her eyes, which were glimmering like emeralds. "I love you, too, Cage." She reached up to touch his cheek, his eyebrows, his lips, as though to convince herself that he was truly there and that it hadn't all been a dream.
"Remember what I promised you?"
"Yes. You kept your promise. It was beautiful, just as you said it would be."
"You're beautiful." He moved.
"No, stay inside me."
"I intend to," he whispered against her lips. "But I haven't even kissed you yet." He remedied that with a thorough kiss that kept his tongue nestled inside her mouth for breathless moments.
Working the T-shirt up, he pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. He lowered his gaze to her breasts and caressed one softly.
"I meant what I said, Jenny. I've loved you for a long time, but I couldn't do anything about it. You belonged to Hal. I accepted that without argument just as everyone did, including you."
"I sensed there was something between us. I didn't know what it was."
"Lust."
She smiled and combed her fingers through his hair. "Whatever it was, I was afraid of it."
"I thought you were afraid of me."
"No. Only of the way you made me feel."
"Is that why you avoided me?"
"Was I that conspicuous?"
"Hm." He was intrigued with her breasts, their shape, their dusky crests. He examined them lovingly. "I'd come around and you'd duck for cover."
"You were dangerous to be around. I would go to any lengths not to be left alone in the same room with you. You seemed to consume all the oxygen. I couldn't breathe." She groaned softly as he dipped his head and bathed the tip of her breast with his tongue. "You still take my breath away."
"I can't keep what you do to me a secret." He stirred inside her. He was hard again.
She palmed the firm muscles of his buttocks and drew him deeper inside. He fondled her breast, finessed the nipple until it was firm and flushed, then lowered his mouth to it.
Jenny watched him caress her, watched the flexing of his cheeks as he gratified his need for her. She wished she could fill the void inside him, erase from his past all the times he had needed loving and went lacking.
"Cage, use me. Use me."
"No, Jenny," he rasped, his tongue flicking. "I've used other women. This is different."
She wanted to concentrate on ways to please and satisfy him, but she became too caught up in the pleasure he was giving her. His arousal had heightened until he filled her again. The walls of her body closed around his hardness like a miserly fist. She thrilled to each powerful thrust and arched up to meet them.
Then another sensation spiraled through her middle. At first the rippling movements were so faint she thought she had imagined them. But then the flutterings became stronger and she realized what had caused them.
When she did, she panicked. Her body went rigid beneath Cage's and instead of striving to know more of him, she shrank away. "No, no, stop." She clasped his head and lifted it from her breasts. She squirmed free of him and pressed her thighs together tightly. "Stop, stop."
"Jenny?" His breathing was harsh and loud. It took several seconds for him to bring his eyes back into focus and set the world on its rightful axis. "What's wrong, Jenny? Did I hurt you?"
His heart contracted with fear when she turned her back on him, raised her knees to her chest and formed a ball with her slight body. "Oh, my God, something's wrong. What's wrong? Tell me."
Cage had never felt so afraid and useless in his life. Seconds ago he and Jenny had been making love. Her body had been responsive and eager. Now she was weeping and acting as though agonizing pains were ripping through her.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched at his touch. "What is it? Should I call a doctor?" His only answer was a racking sob. "For godsake, Jenny, at least tell me if you're in pain."
"No, no," she moaned. "Nothing like that."
"Then what?" He crammed his fingers through his hair, impatiently pushing it off his forehead. "What happened? Why did you stop me? Was I hurting you?"
"I felt the baby move."
The words were mumbled into the pillow in a papery voice. At first Cage couldn't decipher them, but when he broke apart the unintelligible syllables and pieced them back together, he went weak with relief. "That's the first time?"
She nodded her head. "The doctor said I should start feeling him soon. This is the first time."
Behind her, Cage smiled. His child had spoken to him. But Jenny was obviously concerned about it. He touched her shoulder again and this time didn't remove his hand even when she stiffened with aversion. In fact, he lay down beside her and tried to take her in his arms.
"It's all right, Jenny. It won't hurt the baby if we're careful."
She sat up abruptly and glared at him. "You don't get it, do you?"
Cage stared at her incredulously as she lunged off the bed, pulled on the blanket until it came free of the other rumpled covers, and wrapped it around herself. She stalked to the window and braced her shoulder against the frame with her back to the room.
He was hurt and angry and it showed as he got off the bed as well, yanked up his jeans, and shoved his legs into them, hiking them up over his hips with a definitely angry tug.
"I guess I don't get it, Jenny. Why don't you tell me?"
She hadn't heard his footfalls on the thick, lush carpet, and it alarmed her when she turned around to find him standing so close. His eyebrows were lowered into a glower. The jeans had been left unbuttoned again and his hair was mussed from her fingers plowing through it.
He was the personification of male sexuality and was so appealing, she had to struggle to resist him.
"You might not have any morals against that alley cat type of behavior, but I do."
"You thought what we were doing was alley cat behavior?" he demanded, his voice quaking with rage.
"I didn't until I felt my baby move."
"I think it's beautiful. I wish you had shared it with me."
"It's another man's baby, Cage! Do you realize what kind of woman that makes me?"
Her anger was spent and in its place were shame and misery. She hung her head as the tears began to fall. Cage watched her shoulders begin to shake with weeping. Her small, frail hands gripped the blanket around her as Eve must have clung to that first fig leaf to hide her shame.
"What kind of woman does that make you?"
She shook her head, at first unable to voice her thoughts aloud. She sniffed back tears. "What we did together … the way I acted when we were … making love…"
"Go on," he prodded when she hesitated.
"I don't know myself anymore. I love you, but I carry your brother's baby."
"Hal is dead. We're alive."
"I've denied it, even to myself, but your parents were partially correct when they said I tried to lure Hal away from his mission."
"What do you mean?" Cage's brow knit in concern.
"That night when he came to my bedroom to tuck me in, he had no intention of making love to me. I kissed him and begged him to stay with me, to give up the trip and marry me."
"You've told me this before. You said he left, then came back."
"That's right."
"So you can't condemn yourself for seducing him. Hal made up his own mind without any coercion from you."
She rested her head against the window jamb and stared sightlessly through the shutters. "But don't you see? He might have only come back to check on me, to kiss me good night one more time. I was desperate and he must have sensed that."
Cage's insides were knotted. How much longer could he perpetrate this lie? Why wouldn't it die a natural death and leave him the hell alone? Why must it come back to haunt him every time he glimpsed happiness with Jenny? Like a malicious gatekeeper, that one sin was keeping him from knowing heaven.
"It was still Hal's decision," he said firmly.
"But if that night had never happened, he might still be alive. I didn't have sense enough to worry about pregnancy, but maybe Hal did. Maybe that was what he was thinking about when he became careless enough to get arrested.
"I had no more conscience than to seduce him away from a God-called mission when all the time I really loved you, a love I was too weak and frightened to admit to. Now I'm sleeping with you while carrying Hal's child. The baby will never know his father because of me."
Cage stood silently for a moment before going to the foot of the bed and sitting down on its edge. He spread his knees wide, propped his elbows on them, and rested his forehead against his raised fists as he stared
down at the carpet between his feet.
"You have no reason to feel guilty, Jenny."
"Don't try to make me feel better. I disgust myself."
"Listen to me, hear me out," Cage said sharply, raising his head. "You're not guilty of any of that, not of seducing Hal into your bed, not of distracting him from his mission, certainly not of his death. Nor are you guilty of making love to me while carrying Hal's child."
She turned to look at him with perplexity. The moon shone only on one side of her face, keeping the other in shadow. That was just as well, Cage thought. He feared what he might see in her expression when he told her.
He drew in a heavy breath and spoke quietly, though there was no hesitation in his confession. "Hal didn't father your baby, Jenny. I did. I came to your bedroom that night, not Hal. It was me you made love with."
Her eyes remained still and wide as she stared at him from across the room. Slowly she slid down the wall and sank to the floor. The blanket mushroomed out around her. All that was visible was her face, pale with disbelief, and her hands, the knuckles of which had gone white.
"That's impossible," she said on a filament of breath.
"It's the truth."
She shook her head furiously. "Hal came into my room. I saw him."
"You saw me. The room was dark. I was standing against the light when I opened the door. I couldn't have been anything but a silhouette."
"It was Hal!"
"I was walking past your door and heard you crying. I intended to go get Hal. But he was downstairs, engrossed in conversation with Mother and Dad. So I went in to check on you instead."
"No," she said soundlessly, still shaking her head.
"Before I could say anything, you sat up and addressed me as Hal."
"I don't believe you."
"Then how do I know how it happened? You reached for me. There were tears on your face. I could see them reflected in the light before I closed the door. I'll admit I should have identified myself the moment you called me Hal, but I didn't. I didn't want to then and I'm damn glad now that I didn't."
"I don't want to hear." She covered her ears with her hands.
Unperturbed, he went on. "I knew you were suffering, Jenny. You were hurt and needed comforting. Frankly, I didn't think Hal would give you what you needed."