Jaimie: Fire And Ice Part 23

After weeks had dragged by.

No phone calls. Nothing. For all she knew, he hadn't thought of her once during that endless time. Now, suddenly, here he was, at her door in the middle of the night, pounding on it, demanding entry.

And she'd gone straight into his arms.

No explanations. No apologies. Not even a h.e.l.lo. She'd let things happen exactly as they had that first time, his rules, his script. What was happening to her? She didn't like this new Jaimie, this-this out-of-control creature who seemed to have forgotten the simplest tenets of morality.

"I can almost hear your brain whirring."

She stiffened. Pulled back. Not far; he wouldn't let her, but she did draw back far enough so she could look up, into his eyes.

"Meaning what?"

He smiled. She felt a little knot form low in her belly. She hadn't forgotten that smile, that s.e.xy I-am-the-ruler-of-the-world tilt of his mouth.

"You're thinking, 'After all this time, is that any way for a man so say h.e.l.lo?'"

She didn't want to laugh. And she wouldn't.

"What I'm thinking," she said, "is what are you doing here, Zacharias?"

He smiled again. Why wouldn't he? They both knew what he was doing here. What he had just done. What she had just done.

"I haven't seen you in weeks. I never heard from you after-after the-the blackout-"

"After the blackout," he said solemnly.

She didn't want to blush, either. And she wouldn't.

"Exactly. Now you turn up, threatening to knock the door down in the middle of the night."

"I did not threaten to-"

"You walk in as if you have every right in the world to be here."

"Jaimie," he said, the very voice of reason, "honey-"

"How about 'h.e.l.lo, how are you, I know I owe you an apology'?"

Zach let go of her. Unconcernedly zipped his fly, narrowed those amazing eyes, then folded his arms over his bare chest. Why didn't the man cover himself?

Why didn't she? she thought, grabbing the edges of her torn gown and dragging them together.

"Sounds like a plan," he said.

She blinked. "What does?"

"That 'h.e.l.lo, how are you, I know I owe you an apology' bit." He paused, just long enough for confusion to show in her face. "I have to tell you, babe, you're the first woman ever pulled a vanishing act on me."

Dammit. So much for not wanting to blush.

"We are not talking about me, Zacharias, we're talking about you."

"I'm not the one who ran."

"I did not run!"

"There I was, all alone in that bed, the indentation of your head on the pillow beside me, the scent of you, of our lovemaking, still on the sheets-"

"We had s.e.x," she said, her face flaming. "s.e.x, after just-just shaking hands. And-"

"Actually, I don't recall ever shaking hands. All I remember is that candlelit dinner, the waiter hovering over us, the sommelier trying to be discreet."

"You know d.a.m.n well there was no waiter or sommelier!"

"There would have been, if you'd said 'yes' when I first asked you to go out to dinner with me."

"We couldn't have gone out. The blackout-"

"The blackout came after you turned me down."

"That isn't the point. If we'd been in a restaurant, n.o.body would have been hovering over us, not once the power went out."

Zach shrugged. "OK. You got some of it right." The look on his face changed. His eyes darkened from emerald to forest green as he took a step forward. "But you got the most important part wrong."

How had she gone from offense to defense?

"What important part?" she said, taking a quick step back.

"The s.e.x part." He reached out, framed her face with his hands. "What we had was more than s.e.x. It was-h.e.l.l, it was incredible."

"It was only-"

He leaned in. Put his mouth gently against hers. She bit back a moan.

"Don't try and change the topic."

"Trust me, honey." His arms went around her as he gathered her in. His erection pressed against her belly, hard and full of absolutely decadent promise. "I'm not trying to change the topic. Why would I want to do that when we're finally together again?"

Jaimie caught her breath.

"Don't," she whispered. "I can't think when you-"

He caught her hand. Brought it to his mouth. Kissed the palm, then brought her hand down his body and lay it over his fly. She gave a moan so soft, so filled with need that he was afraid he'd ruin everything by moving too fast, undoing his zipper, parting her thighs and burying himself deep inside her again.

"That's half the problem," he said in a husky whisper. "Not thinking, I mean. Or maybe it's thinking too much. Like you, thinking that what had happened that night was so good that it had to be bad."

She raised her face to his.

"It was," she said, her voice breaking. "I have never, ever done anything so-so wanton in my entire-"

"And I've never done anything as stupid." Her face fell; silently, he cursed himself for a fool and he caught her chin, forced her to meet his gaze. "Anything as stupid as letting my pride get in the way." There'd been more to it than that; there'd been that G.o.dd.a.m.ned lying call from Young because yes he was sure it had been a lie, but now wasn't the time to talk about it. Instead, he brushed his mouth over hers, again and again until she sighed and her lips parted and clung to his. "I should have called you, Jaimie. h.e.l.l, I should have flown to D.C., banged my fist against your door until you had no choice but to let me in and then-"

"And then," she said, "this would have happened a lot sooner."

"You're d.a.m.n right, it would." He framed her face with his hands. Ran his thumb lightly over her mouth. "I thought about you all the time."

"About how easy I was, you mean," she said, jerking away from him. Color flooded her face. "How easy I still am."

She turned away.

Zach wanted to pull her back into his arms, stop her doubts with his mouth, his hands, his body, but she deserved to know why he had let so much time go by before coming after her, and why he finally had. He couldn't tell her about Caleb, but he could tell her the truth that mattered, the truth he'd known the instant she'd opened that door.

He reached for her, his hands hard on her shoulders, and swung her toward him.

"You're doing us both a disservice."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Do you want me to believe that's what you are, Jaimie? An easy lay?" Anger flashed in her eyes. Good. It meant he was getting somewhere. "And that I'd come hundreds of miles just for a woman who was?" She tried to turn her face away, but he wouldn't let her. "The truth is you'd never done anything like what you did that night. Isn't that right?"

He waited. And waited. Then, finally, she nodded.

His heart lifted.

"It was a special night." His tone softened. "Even a world-cla.s.s cynic like me knew that, though I'd sooner have eaten a bucket of nails than admit it." He saw her expression softening; he smiled, tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, honey. You've been with me 24/7, and if you think that's an easy thing to admit to a woman who dumped me..."

"I did not dump you."

Her voice was stronger, and her eyes met his without flinching. He smiled again.

"No?"

"No."

"Dear Mr. Castelianos," he said. "Thank you for everything..."

Her face reddened.

"I-I didn't know what else to say."

"You could have awakened in my arms and said, 'Good morning, Zacharias. I'd like us to make love again.'"

She sank her teeth lightly into the tender flesh of her bottom lip. G.o.d, he wanted to kiss that tiny wound.

"I-I wasn't myself that night."

"I think you were. I think that was the real you. The real you and the real me. He slid his hands into her hair and tilted her face up to his. "And I think you were afraid of what I made you feel."

"I've never been afraid of anything in my life!"

"Feelings," he said softly. "That's what you're afraid of. And I understand that because it's been the same with me."

He spoke before he could stop the words. What he'd just told her was more than he'd ever told anyone in his entire life, including himself. If she laughed, if she scoffed...

But she didn't.

Her eyes grew bright with unshed tears.

"I'm not," she whispered, "really, I'm not..." She made a sound n.o.body would ever call a laugh. "Two bastions of logic. Pathetic, don't you think?"

"Amazing, is what I think. That we're wasting all this time, talking, when we could be in bed, making love."

Her eyes searched his. An eternity seemed to pa.s.s. Then, she sighed.

"You are a very wise man, Mr. Castelianos."

Zach swung her into his embrace. She put her arms around his neck and kissed his throat.

"Down the hall," she murmured, "and to the right."

He hadn't needed her instructions; he knew where the bedroom was. The realization made him feel as if a small chunk of ice had lodged itself in the pit of his stomach.

He was going to have to be careful.

Or maybe-maybe he was going to have to tell her the truth.

"Zacharias?"

Her voice was soft and tender. Zach kissed her as he set her slowly on her feet beside the bed.

"What, honey?"

"I thought you would never come for me," she whispered, and he knew then that the truth could wait if he didn't want to risk destroying whatever it was that they'd found.

He made love to her slowly.

Long, tender kisses that gradually deepened, her lips parting, yielding to the seeking pressure of his, her sighs like the warm breath of life against his mouth as he caught her bottom life gently between his teeth and feasted on its sweet taste.

He parted the torn edges of her nightgown, revealing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, so perfect, so silken as he cupped them.

He dipped his head, kissed the pulse beating wildly in her throat, kissed his way down her skin, teased her nipples with the tip of his tongue, the heat of his mouth, almost going crazy when she moaned and began to shift restlessly as he lay above her, one knee between hers, that knee against the female heart of her, pressing, moving, rubbing lightly against the flower he knew was opening, opening, opening, its delicate petals begging for his touch, But not yet.

He had been too quick that first time.

Now, what he did to her, for her, with her, would last. He would make it last.