Eight
The rest of the night passed in a glorious haze of passion. Minutes crawled past and bled into hours that swept them both along on memories and a rush of desire that had been dammed up too long.
Dawn was just tracking colorful fingers across the horizon when Tina stretched, yawned and turned her head to glance out the window.
Every square inch of her body felt thoroughly used. Brian hadn’t missed a trick and had, in fact, picked up a few new ones since the last time they’d been together. If her heart ached a little at the knowledge that he’d undoubtedly been with other women since they’d separated, she wouldn’t let him know it. She would bury that ache and keep it to herself. After all, she hadn’t exactly lived like a nun for the past five years either.
But she was honest enough to admit, at least to herself, that no one had ever touched her the way Brian did. With another man, it was simply sex. With Brian, it was lovemaking that bordered on the spiritual.
She shifted her gaze back to him and smiled. Even sleeping, Brian didn’t look innocent. He looked—dangerous. And he was. At least to her sense of well-being.
But with his dark blue eyes closed, she could indulge herself by studying him as she would any other gorgeous work of art. His chest rippled with muscles tanned to a deep, rich brown, despite his Irish heritage. A scattering of black hair swept down the center of his chest and disappeared beneath the pale green sheet they’d at last crawled under sometime during the night. One arm cocked behind his head, he slept with a smile on his face and damned if it wasn’t an arrogant, self-satisfied smirk.
But, since she knew a like smile was currently curving her own mouth, she couldn’t really blame him for it. One night with Brian was better than a hundred nights with anyone else. And how sad for Tina to discover that truth only to have to leave him again.
Hopefully though, this time when they parted, she would take a small piece of him with her. She dropped one hand to her abdomen and spread her fingers wide across it, as if already cradling the minute child that might be within.
“When a woman smiles like that,” Brian said softly, “makes a man wonder what she’s thinking about.”
Tina started, then guiltily moved her hand from her belly to reach for the sheet, pulling it up to cover her breasts. “Um…”
He grinned. “Good answer.” Then he turned onto his side, swept the sheet aside and cupped one of her breasts in his palm.
Tina sucked in a breath as his thumb and forefinger teased and tweaked her nipple.
“You’re not feeling shy all of a sudden, are you?”
Brian asked.
“No,” she said, “just a little tired.”
“Not surprising,” he admitted. “Even I usually require more than an hour’s sleep at night.”
But that’s all they’d had, she realized. Because neither of them had wanted to stop touching the other long enough to snooze, however briefly. Finally, exhaustion had slapped them both into sleep just before dawn.
When she didn’t answer, his hand on her breast stilled and his gaze narrowed on her. “Are you all right?”
“Sure,” she said, biting back her second thoughts, tamping down on the first stirring of guilt that was already beginning to nibble at the edges of her conscience.
“Yeah,” he said, sitting up to look down at her. “I’m convinced.”
The back of his neck itched.
Just like it did whenever he was in the field. Even at thirty thousand feet above the earth, a pilot could sense when there were missiles targeting his ship. And it was that very sixth sense that was jangling inside him now like a mission bell blowing in a hurricane wind.
“It’s nothing, Brian. Really.”
“It’s something,” he countered and told himself that he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like it. All night, he and Tina had connected just like the old days. Despite the lack of sleep tugging at him, he’d never felt more alive than he had at this moment. And he knew without a doubt that once Tina started talking, that well-being was going to fly out a window. And still, he had to know. “Why don’t you just spill it?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.
“Now I know we’ve gotta talk,” Brian told her and felt his stomach clench into fists of anxiety. Something was definitely up.
“Let’s not do this, okay?” she said and abruptly scooted to the edge of his bed and scrambled around on the floor, looking for the towel she’d discarded the night before.
“Okay, when Tina Coretti doesn’t want to talk,” Brian muttered darkly, “there’s trouble. And I want to know what it is.”
She shot him a look over her shoulder, blew her hair out of her eyes and gave him what she no doubt hoped would look like an innocent shrug.
“No trouble. Really. Just looking for a shower and some clothes now.” She didn’t want to have this talk now. Not when she knew it would lead to an argument of apocalyptic proportions. And Tina wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Not when her body was still humming from his touch and her heart was still aching with the knowledge that she loved a man who didn’t want her.
Where did the stupid towel go? she wondered. Not like it could walk off on its own.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
She glanced at him again, tugged the sheet with her, draping it around her body before dropping to the floor. “Beats me,” she said. “Maybe you have a suspicious nature?”
“Talk to me, Tina,” he complained and she heard the impatience in his voice and winced at it.
So much for the happy afterglow thing, she thought as she continued to grope her way across the floor, looking under tables and the edge of the bed for her wayward towel. “You know what?” She staggered to her feet, caught her toe on the hem of the sheet and stumbled forward a step or two. “Screw the towel. I’ll just borrow this sheet to go back to Nana’s house in. I’ll bring it back to you tonight.”
Then she made the mistake of turning around to look at him. Naked and comfortable with it, he was sprawled across the rumpled sheets, braced on his elbows as he watched her. Every square inch of him was gorgeous. He looked like a statue carved by a master craftsman. Well, except for the suspicion gleaming in his eyes.
“Not a chance,” he muttered.
“You don’t trust me with your sheet?”
“I don’t give a good damn about the stupid sheet, Tina,” he said, sliding off the bed and stalking toward her. “I want to know what’s going on inside that head of yours and you’re not leaving until you tell me.”
Tina took an instinctive step backward, then stiffened her spine and stood her ground. After all, she wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done. Well, not totally, anyway. It wasn’t as if she’d had to hold a gun to his head to get him to have sex with her, right? He’d enjoyed himself. Many times.
Although, said a little voice in the back of her mind, if he’d known what you were doing, he never would have slept with you.
But then, she reasoned, however faulty, that’s precisely why she hadn’t told him.
Until now.
She forced herself to look into his eyes, because looking anywhere else would only send her blood into a frothing rush—and she knew darn well that once he knew what was going on…there wouldn’t be any more rolling around on those rumpled sheets.
Their gazes locked and Brian studied her features for what felt like forever. Then slowly, her gaze shifted to one side as if she couldn’t quite look him in the eyes.