“Ordinarily I wouldn’t,” he said. “But that kiss wasn’t ordinary.”
She knew she should separate herself from him without delay. Close her ears. Avoid looking into his eyes. Yet they held her in place as though they’d cast a spell over her.
“Deny it all you want, Lilly, but you know that what I’m saying is the truth. It didn’t start for us last night. It’s been going on from the moment you stepped aboard that bus. Every second of every day since then, I’ve wanted to put my hands on you.”
She dismissed the quickening in her lower body. “Is that how you do it?”
“What?”
“Do you sweet-talk those women into going with you without a whimper?”
“You think this is sweet talk?”
“Yes.”
“A line to woo you?”
“Yes.”
“So you’ll unlock the cuffs and I’ll be free to ravage you?”
“Something like that.”
“Then explain why I stopped with one kiss last night.”
His eyes searched hers while he waited for an answer that never came.
Eventually he said, “I stopped because I wouldn’t take advantage of the situation. We were in dangerous circumstances. Cut off from the rest of the human race. We’d been talking about Amy. You were emotionally fragile, vulnerable, in need of comfort and tenderness.
“We were also hungry for each other. If we had continued kissing, I knew where it would lead. I also knew that, later, you might either regret it or question my motives. I didn’t want you to have any misgivings afterward, Lilly. That’s the only reason I didn’t join you on the mattress.”
He sounded earnest. God, did he ever. “That was quite a sacrifice. Saint Tierney.”
“No.” His eyes speared into hers like twin pinpoints of light. “If you had asked me to fuck you, I would have in a heartbeat.”
Her sudden intake of air caused her lungs to wheeze. “You’re very good, Tierney.” Her voice was a mere croak, not entirely from asthma. “Sweet one minute, erotic the next. You say all the right things.”
“Unlock the cuffs, Lilly,” he whispered.
“Go to hell.”
Last night her survival had depended on trusting him.
Today it depended on mistrust.
CHAPTER
18
WHAT THE HELL, WES?”
“Before you blow a gasket, stop and think about this.”
Wes joined Dutch where he was standing in front of an electric space heater. It did minimal good inside the cavernous garage, but the glowing red coils gave the impression that, by standing near it, he was staving off the penetrating cold. It was only an impression. The cement floor conducted the cold up through the thick soles of Dutch’s boots and woolen socks, straight into his feet and legs.
He stamped his feet to keep the blood circulating. He also stamped with impatience. Cal Hawkins had been in the men’s room since they arrived. The last time Dutch had checked on him, he was still heaving into a nasty toilet.
“They were going to f