shimmied up her ribcage, his touch reverent. “Don’t ask me questions I can’t answer. Not tonight.”
His fingertips skirted along the lower fullness of her bare-beneath-her-T-shirt breasts. Her breath caught, depriving her of oxygen as her body waged war with her mind.
“If you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help, Adam. Trust me.”
“Just let me love you. Please,” he coaxed in a husky tone.
More kisses along her neck, more urgent ones, more seductive ones. More brushes of his fingers until he palmed her breast in his hand and groaned his pleasure, made her moan with hers.
Too many weeks had gone by since they’d last made love. Too many lonely nights had passed. This, what they shared, the magic that passed between them when they touched, to her was an expression of what was inside, of what they felt for each other.
They shared a connection that transcended all else. Her pride. Her grandfather’s death. His inability to deal with whatever was bothering him so much that he was pushing her away. They shared love.
Maybe that’s what Adam needed. For her to love him. For her to give him all the love in her heart.
She would. They’d make love, talk, laugh at the silly insecurities she’d been dealing with, at how emotionally raw she’d felt. Adam would tell her how wrong she was, that his heart belonged to her and her alone. That this past month had been an aberration on his part and he’d been a fool, that nothing was wrong between them.
When a person wanted to believe desperately enough, she could convince herself of most anything.
Liz wanted to believe in Adam. She wanted to believe so much that she ignored all reason and clung to the hope she wasn’t being naïve.
And if she was? She loved this man, felt his need, not just his physical need but his inner need to be loved, the need for the emotional bond they shared that meant they could face anything together. If she was naïve? So what? She would never turn her back on him when something so obviously ate at him, when he turned to her for comfort. She’d comfort with any means at her disposal no matter what the cost to herself.
She arched into his caresses, molded her lower body against his hips just as his tongue laved her nipple.
Tingles of awareness shot through her. Awareness of Adam’s hands, his lips, his hard body ground tightly against hers.
“I love you, Adam,” she whispered against his lips when they returned to her mouth. “Whatever’s wrong, know that I love you, that I’m here for you and want to help.”
For a moment she thought she’d said the wrong thing, that he was going to pull away from her, but a dam burst within him and fire burned within his eyes.
“This is wrong.” He gave her a desperate kiss. “But I need you so damn much, Liz.”
She’d known he needed her. The fact he was admitting to his need shocked her, amazed her. Adam wasn’t one to verbalize needs. Yes, she saw it in his eyes, recognized the all-consuming desire, but to hear him admit he needed her wound her stomach into knots, reinforced her desire to give him her all.
Adam needed her. Somehow, no matter what was going on with him, everything would work out. Because they had love on their side.
“Adam.” She kissed him back, daring him to deny loving her when the smoldering light in his eyes said he did. “Love me, Adam.”
Adam held Liz close, listening to the sounds of her even breathing, caressing a soft strand of her hair, soaking in her warmth and goodness.
Damn his weakness.
He’d come to set her free, but he ached inside. Ached from his doctor’s visit that morning, learning he really did have MS. Ached that in the blink of an eye he could lose his license to practice medicine, his license to fly a plane, his ability to be a man, his right to have this woman’s love.
He ached for the loss of hope. He’d never be free to accept Liz’s love, never be able to offer her a future, to give her a happily-ever-after.
Perhaps on this day when he’d first learned of the definite diagnosis of his disease, he was self-pitying. Perhaps in the morning light the future wouldn’t loom so gray. But at the moment he mourned the loss of his health, his hopes for the future, his right to a life with Liz.
He hadn’t lied to her when he’d said he needed her. He did need her. He needed the healing only her touch provided. Needed to feel her arms around him, needed to hear her sweet lips saying she loved him. Needed the peace she so freely gave him so he could figure out how he was going to face the future. A future that loomed bleakly ahead like a black hole greedily consuming everything good.
Even if just for one more night, he’d wanted to hold Liz, to be inside her, to feel her pleasure around him, to look into her eyes and see her world exploding within, and know that for the time they’d shared together his life had been good.
Yes, he was weak.
Yes, it was wrong.
But he faced an eternity of hellish loneliness.
Just the last few weeks’ taste of not being with Liz scraped his insides raw. He’d gotten so accustomed to sharing the ups and downs of his day, of sharing laughter and sadness and even the quiet moments. When shared with Liz, every instant took on meaning.
This very moment held dear meaning, held his last taste of her sweetness, his last caress of her body, his last everything.
Although it would be all too easy to find himself cursing his diseased body, he wouldn’t allow the self-pity to take over his mind, to cause him to weep in her arms. Instead he’d focus on everything good, focus on Liz, and the blessing she’d been in his life.
Making love to Liz was for him, not her, and he felt very guilty.
Sure, she’d looked content when she’d dozed off snuggled in his arms. Even now, in her sleep a satisfied smile played on her lips.
But he was a selfish jerk for being here. For clinging to something that could no longer be.
One night, he’d told himself when he’d foolishly taken her into his arms.
He’d had his night, and what a night it had been, but sunrise was only a few short hours away. He’d go before Liz woke up, go before the sun rose, but until the harsh reality of dawn came he’d hold her, breathe in her freshness, and cherish every second of what he feared would be the shortest but most precious few hours of his life.
Sparkly sunlight danced across Liz’s face, but she didn’t open her heavy eyelids. Her body felt deliciously warm inside, which seemed odd as she ached from the night’s activities. The night’s multiple activities.
Adam had been insatiable. A veritable tiger in bed. Lord, but she felt ravaged.
Thoroughly loved.
Smiling, she rolled onto her side, expecting to bump into his long, lean body.
She didn’t.
That’s when the quietness registered. No sounds of Adam breathing. No sensation of him being next to her.
Opening her eyes, only the imprint of where he’d slept remained in her bed. That and his spicy male scent.
A moment of panic raced through her, then she chided herself for her fear. He was probably in the bathroom. Or the living room. Or…he might have left.
She had to know.
Slipping out of the bed, she quickly discovered Adam wasn’t anywhere in the small house.
She dropped onto the sofa, her nose twitching at her barely touched salad from the night before. A tiny gnat landed on a wilted leaf, giving testament to the sad state of her morning.
Adam had left without waking her.
Clammy heat covered Liz’s body and she dry-heaved