Loves Me, Loves Me Knot (19 page)

Her breathing hitched and a sheen of tears brightened her beautiful green eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, too.”

And then she surprised him by covering his mouth with her own.

Gage’s lips were warm and soft and reminded her of a thousand nights spent in his arms.

It should have mattered that they were divorced and had no business being in bed together.

It should have mattered that she’d taken advantage of him last night and he’d since vowed to stick to her like glue until he knew whether she was pregnant or not.

It should have mattered that kissing him, caressing him, making love to him would be the mother of all mixed signals.

It should have, but it didn’t.

She didn’t want to think about any of that right now, not when she was feeling more comfortable and content than any time in recent memory.

He let her kiss him, remaining perfectly still beneath her. His palms cupped her elbows, holding her in place, and his chest rose and fell against her, but he didn’t deepen the kiss, didn’t sit up and take over. Instead, he allowed her to run the show, kept his mouth slack while she nipped and licked and explored.

Oh, how she loved this man. It was like being a diabetic and having an overwhelming craving for chocolate éclairs, but knowing if she ate one, it might kill her.

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.

It wasn’t better, it was worse. So much worse, because now she knew what she was missing.

For this moment, though, she could have it again.

Last night had been wonderful, but it had been rather one-sided. This time, he was wide awake and would not only be a willing participant, but an active one.

And she didn’t want to go back downstairs to the sofa or kick him out so she could have the bed. She didn’t want to spend the night alone in this house, knowing he was only a few rooms or a stairwell away.

She teased the ends of his prickly, super-short hair, then let her fingers drift around to his neck and face. She stroked his jawline, with its layer of stubble making his cheeks rough.

That same five o’clock shadow scraped her skin as she dragged her mouth from his and began kissing everywhere else she could reach. Light, open-mouthed kisses that allowed her to take in every molecule of his scent and texture.

He smelled the same way he always had—delicious. His aftershave was one of those spicy sandalwood scents that reminded her of deep green pine forests, winter holidays, and isolated ski lodges with blazing fires in the hearth. Thanks to Gage, she was probably one of the only women on the planet who got turned on by Christmas trees.

She’d never told him that, but it was true. It was also
the reason she’d jumped his bones in front of the tree each Christmas Eve while they were married, and why so many of their decorations consisted of ornaments bought at after-Christmas sales. Rolling around on a tree skirt and banging into the Douglas fir a few dozen times did tend to result in broken candy canes and shattered bulbs.

And it had only taken her one Christmas morning of pulling those tiny, static-clingy silver icicles out of her hair and clothes and . . . other regions . . . to realize the wisdom of switching to a single string of garland.

She chuckled, thoughts of the past making her happy instead of sad for a change. Gage, she knew, had simply counted himself lucky to be getting lucky, and every time she came home with a different batch of decorations for the tree, he’d merely shrugged and chalked it up to one of those “woman at a clearance sale” things.

“What’s so funny?” he asked in a low voice, and for the first time she realized his hands had somehow slipped under the hem of her pink tank top to skim the flesh of her midriff.

She shook her head, knowing she would never be able to explain, not in a few short seconds, and wanting to keep that particular memory to herself for a while longer.

“This won’t change anything,” he said when she didn’t reply. “When we wake up in the morning, all of the same problems we’ve always had will be right there waiting for us.”

The truth of his words pinched her heart, but they showed he’d been thinking along the same lines as she had. One night, one chance to experience again what they’d had during the early days of their marriage.

And then it would be over. The bright light of day would once again reveal all the sky-high hurdles between them that they couldn’t seem to jump over or knock down.

“I know.”

“And I’m not going away. You’ll still have to put up with me hanging around until we know . . .”

He let the sentence trail off, but they were both well aware of what he’d been about to say. A flashing neon
BABY
sign might as well have been hanging from the headboard.

“I know.”

His fingers continued to stroke her waist, her belly, the small of her back. Slowly, seductively, but his hands were so large that they covered a lot of space without needing to travel very far.

“It’s up to you, Jenna,” he murmured. “We can keep moving in the direction things are going, or I can get up and leave you alone. It’s your call.”

She shifted to lie more fully atop him, pressing her breasts into his chest and feeling the rigid length of his erection against her hip. It warmed her to know that even as aroused as he was, he had still offered to walk away.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said, rubbing her whole body lightly up and down against his.

He sucked in a breath and she saw the chords of his neck constrict. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, then in a grating tone said, “Fine. But you need to know that if I stay, I won’t be tied down this time.”

It was part warning, part threat, part reminder, and it sent a skittering of warmth blossoming low in her
belly. Her throat was too tight, too dry to form words, so she merely nodded.

That was all it took for Gage’s eyes to go from glittering with mild interest to blazing with sharp arousal. Both expressions were potent and intelligent, but only one was hot and smoldering with danger.

Luckily, she liked danger. She liked living on the edge.

But only with one person.

Only with him.

She returned her mouth to his jaw, letting her lips skate along the rough surface.

“You can be in charge this time,” she whispered. “Whatever you want. However you want it. If you want to tie me to the bed instead, I’m game.”

His fingers flexed in the flesh of her upper arms, and before she knew what was happening, she was flat on her back on the mattress with Gage hovering above her.

“I don’t need toys and secondary fantasies,” he told her in a voice rough with meaning. “When I’m with you, I only want you, just as you are.”

His declaration brought a lump to her throat so that all she could do was swallow and blink back the sting of tears.

Gage wasn’t the romantic sort. He’d never been one to bring her flowers or candy or plan something special for Valentine’s Day. But once in a while he would utter something so beautiful, so heartfelt, he could have won a Mr. Romance competition against Prince Charming himself.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t work out our differences,” she told him when she could finally manage
non-wavering speech, “because we really are perfect for each other.”

A flash of something dark and almost primitive passed over his face, but he didn’t respond. Not verbally, anyway. Instead, with a growl, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms above her head, then ground his entire body against hers from chest to ankle while he took her mouth in a toe-curling, breath-stealing, bone-crushing kiss.

Gage couldn’t decide what he wanted more—to wrap Jenna in about a thousand layers of cotton batting and cuddle her like a small child . . . or pin her to the bed and use his body to punish her for putting him through the wringer.

No one had ever been able to reach inside him and pull out his guts the way she could, and over the past couple days, she’d not only ripped them out, but tap-danced them straight into the ground.

He’d always thought guys who got mixed up in sex with the ex were . . . well, okay, yeah, lucky bastards as far as getting laid went, but also major morons. Once the marriage was over and the papers were signed, that needed to be the end, with both parties going their separate ways. Going back, even just for the occasional quick roll in the sack, was a bad idea. Bad with a capital B.

Lying in the cradle of Jenna’s thighs hadn’t altered his opinion, either. It was still a bad, bad idea.

But slap his ass and crown him the King of All Morons . . . damned if he was going to take the high road and walk away. He wasn’t sure he’d have been physically able, even if he’d wanted to—which he sure as hell didn’t.

So he’d take himself out back of the woodshed later. Probably whack his head against the wall a few hundred times and call himself every kind of name in the book, too.

Small price to pay, he rationalized, for another night spent with Jenna. Not tied to the bed at her mercy. Not being used in her misguided attempts to start a family. But making love with her the way they used to, the way he fantasized about while he was stuck on stakeouts or trapped undercover for weeks at a time.

His heart slowed its beat and his blood thickened, pumping like crude oil through his veins. Without warning, he pushed himself up and off the bed. Jenna made a startled, disappointed sound, which he ignored as he strode to his duffel where it rested on the floor in the corner and crouched to unzip the bag.

He found what he was looking for, then straightened and turned to toss the box on the bed. It landed next to Jenna’s hip. Her eyes went to the label for a split second before she lifted her gaze to his.

“You know how I feel about this, and I’m not taking any more chances,” he told her. Legs spread slightly apart and hands on his hips, his tone left no room for arguments. “We use them, or I go back downstairs and spend the rest of the night on the sofa.”

In response, she sat up cross-legged in the middle of the bed, grabbed the box, and opened it at one end. Spilling the contents onto the mattress, she lifted a single small foil packet between two fingers and waved it in front of him.

“As long as you let me put the first one on.”

Gage hadn’t realized until that moment how still
he’d been holding himself, how rigid every muscle and tendon was—including his lungs, which suddenly sucked in a much-needed breath of air.

He didn’t know what he’d have done if she’d refused. Burst into flames or crumbled into a pile of bones and ash, most likely.

But she hadn’t refused, and he wasn’t going to waste another second worrying about it. He’d rather just be grateful . . . and get down to business before she changed her mind.

He reached the bed in a single wide step, tangling his fingers in the hem of her pajama tank and yanking it up and off. She raised her arms to make the job easier and even tipped back on the mattress to let him strip her of her shorts.

He didn’t take his eyes off of her as he quickly shucked his own boxer briefs and joined her on the bed. His big body covered hers, nearly swallowing her whole, and he held himself up on his arms to keep from crushing her.

The feel of her smooth skin rubbing against his own was like heaven, and something he hadn’t known he’d missed quite so much until that very moment. He let the sensation sink in, etch itself into his memory, and warm him both outside and in.

It didn’t take long, though, for more pressing desires to make themselves known. Between them, his penis pulsed and nudged forward insistently, as though it knew relief was only centimeters away.

“If you want the honors,” he told her roughly, “you’d better hurry. I’m not promising to last much longer.”

Jenna’s lips pulled into a small moue. “Aw, poor baby. I thought big, strong men like you were supposed to have more staying power than that.”

“Not where you’re concerned,” he bit out. Then he grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the condom packet and tugged it down toward her waist, closer to where she needed to put it to good use, rolling slightly to the side to give her room to work.

She chuckled, but didn’t hold him in suspense. Tearing open the foil square, she removed the latex shield, placed it carefully over the tip of his throbbing dick, and rolled it into place.

Gage gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring as he fought to hold perfectly still, to not rush her or groan with delicious misery and risk slowing her down even more. Finally she finished, and he released a harsh breath.

Her hands moved to his shoulders while she laid there, staring up at him. Naked and welcoming and more beautiful than any woman had a right to be.

But he didn’t want to get emotional about this. Didn’t want to leave the door open to falling for her again, getting attached when there was no chance for reconciliation. He already had enough unfinished business to deal with where Jenna was concerned; he sure as shit didn’t need more.

So rather than think, rather than take the time to enjoy the sight of Jenna sprawled beneath him, open and ready, he lifted her leg to hook around his hip and drove home in one long, forceful stroke.

As foreplay went, it wasn’t exactly subtle or sophisticated. It didn’t need to be. The second he pushed inside her, he knew she was fully aroused and more than ready to accept him. And if he were any more primed, he’d go off like a geyser.

Her other leg came up to hug his waist, linking at the ankles and jerking him that much closer, that much
deeper. At the same time, her arms looped around his neck, tugging him down until their chests touched and her breasts were trapped between them.

He could feel the sharp bite of her nipples, the warm dusting of her breath on his face, her heart beating in tandem with his own. His fingers flexed in the flesh of her upper thigh and he leaned in to take her mouth in a hot, mindless kiss.

She kissed him back, her tongue warring with his while the rest of her body arched and writhed. Her movements enflamed him further, dragging a raw moan up from his diaphragm.