He sighed and rubbed the wood dust from his palms. “I joined to get out of town, just like you took off for New York. Kevin was dead, my family was splitting up—I just needed time away. I wanted order and discipline and...adventure, I guess.” His eyes darkened. “I liked it at first. I felt duty-bound and patriotic and felt that I was important, but... Oh, hell, I don’t know, I just got older. I saw some of my friends get killed and it all seemed so useless. When I was wounded I was offered a discharge. I took it. Seemed like it was time for something else.” He snorted. “Time to grow up, I suppose.”
“And that something else was Gold Creek?”
“It’s home, Carlie.” He stood and reached for his beer on the mantel. “And you can’t run away forever.”
“Are you talking about yourself or giving me advice?”
“A little of both, I suppose.” He drained the beer and walked over to her. She wasn’t a tiny person, but she was thin, and curled up on the couch, her eyes wide and luminous, her hair gleaming black, he found her irresistible. He’d kept his hands off her for a couple of weeks, ever since their passion had exploded in her apartment, but now seeing her beautiful face tipped up to his, her lips parted in an inviting smile, he couldn’t stop himself.
In two swift strides he closed the distance between them and took her into his arms. His mouth covered hers and he tasted the wine on her lips, heard the weak little moan from the back of her throat. Her skin smelled of lavender and felt like warm silk against his fingertips. Heat pulsed through his body and his mind shut off any protests. He didn’t care about the past, didn’t want to remember that he’d told himself for years he couldn’t trust her, wouldn’t think of the ramifications of making love to her. All he knew was the want that started hot and hard in his loins and swept upward through his body.
Carlie closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of him. His lips, his hands, his tongue. Liquid fire swept through her veins as he began to unbutton her blouse. She knew she should stop, that making love to him was dangerous, but her heart persuaded her to take a chance. The smell of burning wood, the feel of his hands against her flesh, the musky flavor of the wine, the intoxicating feel of him shoved aside all her doubts.
She wound her arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily, her tongue anxiously mating with his. Her blouse parted and he nuzzled her neck, dipping low in the dusky hollow between her breasts, trailing his wet tongue over the silky lace of her bra.
Arching upward, she felt his hands span her waist, holding her against him, making her aware of the hardness swelling against his jeans.
“You make me crazy,” he whispered as he breathed across her nipple.
She could barely speak and when she did, her voice was unrecognizable. “Please,” she begged, “please, Ben, don’t stop.”
“Never.” He shoved her blouse from her shoulders and stripped her of her bra, until the firelight played upon her naked torso and he stared down at her nipples. “So incredible,” he murmured, running a work-roughened thumb across one dark peak. He lowered his head and sucked gently and she wound her fingers in the thick strands of his hair.
His fingers found the waistband of her jeans and dipped low over her buttocks.
Like lava, liquid fire swirled deep within Carlie and she found the buttons of his shirt. Her blood pounded in her ears as he stripped her of her clothes and he kicked off his jeans, pausing only long enough to reach into his pocket for a plastic-wrapped packet of protection.
“I’ve dreamed of being with you again,” he admitted, holding himself above her, lowering his head to kiss her lips lightly, or brush his tongue across her nipples.
“So have I,” she said over a suddenly thick throat.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely,” she cried.
His lips clamped over hers and after a moment’s hesitation, he entered her. Not the high-speed, quick thrill of a teenager, but slowly and surely with long strokes that took her breath away.
Carlie clung to him, moved with his intimate rhythm and stared into the magnetic beauty of his hazel eyes. The pupils were dilated, his dark skin shiny with sweat as he moved more quickly, taking Carlie on a roller-coaster ride that soared upward, faster and faster.
“Carlie!” he cried, as if he’d found something he’d lost for so long a time. “Oh, Carlie.”
In a flash of brilliance, the world exploded behind her eyes. Her body convulsed and he shuddered against her. The world seemed to tilt a little as his weight settled comfortably over her and she wrapped her arms around his muscular back. I love you, she thought miserably, knowing that loving him was her burden in life. God forgive me, Ben, but I love you!
She would never tell him, of course. But as she clung to him and the fire hissed softly, she realized that she would never love another man.
Chapter Ten
AN AFFAIR. SHE rolled the thought around in her head and stretched, the back of her calves rustling the cotton sheets. She’d never believed in affairs; she preferred being single or the permanence of marriage.
Ben was already up. She heard him rattling around in the kitchen and smelled the rich scent of brewing coffee. Stretching, she relived their night of lovemaking that had taken place first, in the living room in front of the fire and later, in here, this tiny bedroom that was large enough for only a double bed and a chest of drawers. Sparse. Utilitarian. Perfect.
She looked out the window and saw ice collecting on the thin panes. Frost covered the grass in the yard and a wintry sun was just peaking over the eastern hills. She found Ben’s dark blue terry-cloth bathrobe and wrapped it around her middle, cinched the waist and rolled up the sleeves. Barefoot, she padded into the living area.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said.
He looked so good. His hair was still damp from the shower and a knowing smile played upon his thin lips. Yes, she could fall in love with him too easily. “I don’t feel very beautiful.”
“Take my word for it. Coffee?”