Come the Spring (33 page)

She told him everything. She remembered every word that was spoken, every laugh, every scream. As she related the sequence of events to him, beginning with her untied shoelace, she remained dry-eyed and calm. Too calm, Cole thought, for her voice was completely devoid of emotion. He didn't ask her any questions, and when she was finished, she got up and walked to the lake.

He didn't know if she wanted to be alone or not, but it didn't matter to him because he was compelled to go to her. She stood with her arms folded at her waist, her stance was rigid, and when he tried to put his arm around her, she jerked away.

“Don't.”

Ignoring her protest, he moved in front of her, blocking her view of the lake, and forcefully pulled her into his arms.

“I don't need you to comfort me,” she said angrily, and it was the first show of emotion he'd heard since
she'd told him the truth. He was glad of it and continued to hug her tightly.

“But I need to,” he said softly.

She struggled to get away, and Cole finally let go.

“You don't understand. I was such a coward. I should have done something, but I didn't do anything. I let it happen. I watched.”

She took a deep breath in an attempt to control herself and put her hand out to ward him off when he took a step toward her.

“Okay, I'll agree with you if you want me to,” he said. “You should have done something to prevent it. Now, tell me, what should you have done?”

She shook her head. “I don't know. I was so scared I couldn't think. My God, when they first rushed into the bank, I was worried about my stupid money. I should have…”

“What?” he persisted. “What could you have done? You could have died with Franklin and the others. Is that what you feel guilty about? That you survived and they didn't? Do you think you should have crawled out from your hiding place and knelt down with the others and let them kill you too?”

“No, but maybe … if I had screamed, someone outside might have heard…”

“Enough.” He roughly pulled her into his arms again and was pleased because she didn't fight him this time. “You couldn't have done anything.”

“You would have,” she whispered against his chest.

“Yeah, maybe I would have,” he allowed. “If I had had a gun, but I would have died. I couldn't have gotten all of them.”

“But you would have tried. I didn't.”

“Did you have a weapon to use against all of them?”

“No, but—”

“There wasn't a damned thing you could do, and
somewhere in that head of yours you know that's true.”

Trembling, she wrapped her arms around him and held tight. “I want…”

“What, sweetheart?” he asked as he leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

She tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes. She needed his strength tonight, and she desperately needed his comfort … and his love.

“You should get some sleep,” he told her as he gently lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the campfire. He laid her down and knelt beside her, frowning at her with worry.

“You're going to be all right.” He said the words, not so much to convince her, but to convince himself.

He started to turn away then, but she grabbed hold of his hand. “Sleep with me,” she whispered.

Outwardly he didn't show any reaction to her plea. Inwardly his heart felt as though it had just fallen to the pit of his stomach.

“No,” he answered, his voice harsh, his need to touch her almost overwhelming.

In the firelight, her hair had turned a vibrant red, and all he could think about was threading his fingers through the silky mass and coming down on top of her sweet, soft body….

“It's out of the question.”

“Just for a little while.” she begged. “I don't want to be alone.”

“You're not alone. I'm two feet away. I'm telling you it's not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You want me to spell it out for you? Fine. I want to stay with you, but I sure don't want to sleep.”

“You want to make love to me.”

“Hell, yes.”

His eyes had turned a deep intense blue, and the
hand she held had turned into a fist. “I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do.” She let go of him and rolled to her side, away from him. “Good night.”

He didn't move. He knelt there, fighting a silent war for what seemed an eternity before he finally gave in.

He stretched out beside her, closed his eyes, and tried to pretend she wasn't there.

No matter what, he vowed, he wouldn't touch her. Granted, a man had only so much discipline and she was definitely pushing him to his limit, but she didn't realize what she was doing to him. She needed him, though not in the physical way he wanted or needed her, he reminded himself. She was feeling all alone and craved human contact.

She was killing him. Her hair tickled his nose. Just as he was brushing the silky strands away, she lifted up and pulled his arm under her so that her head was pillowed against him. She smelled like roses tonight, and he was suddenly reminded of home. That was it, he decided. He'd think about all the things he wanted to get done when he got back to Rosehill.

He couldn't come up with a single chore.

“Five minutes, Jessie. I'm only staying with you for five minutes.” He grimaced over the sound of his voice.

She obviously wasn't upset by his gruff manner. She scooted against him, until her back was pressed against his chest and her bottom cuddled his groin.

A cold sweat broke out on his brow. This was hell, he decided, to be so near the woman he craved and not be able to touch her. His only saving grace was the thought that it couldn't possibly get any worse.

He was wrong about that. She wiggled against him and a bolt of white hot longing shot through him.

“Don't move,” he ordered. “Just go to sleep.”

Evidently unaffected by his harshness, she reached
up to grab hold of his hand and pull his arm around her waist. He couldn't stop himself from tightening his hold and snuggling closer. His hand rested beneath the swell of her breasts, and all he had to do was spread his fingers and touch her soft…

The erotic picture was interrupted when she tried to turn in his arms.

He had promised her five minutes. He must have been out of his mind, but he had given his word, and so he began to count off the seconds. Heaven help him, if he lasted one full minute without kissing her, he figured he could last a lifetime.

He wanted a lifetime with her.

The admission stunned him. He realized he'd been ignoring the truth for a long time, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd known, and accepted. He could even name the moment he knew he loved her. It was when that bastard, Johnson, was on the roof with his rifle trying to kill her. Cole had never felt such rage before. As he raced toward her, thinking he wouldn't be able to get to her in time, the possibility of losing her had scared the hell out of him. In the aftermath, he'd been so shaken with fear, he'd reacted with anger, not love.

If this was true love, he wanted no part of it. Yet he didn't want to ever let go of her.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to kiss her shoulder, the side of her neck, her ear. He kept telling himself to stop this torment, but his senses were already responding. She smelled so good and felt so soft.

Had five minutes gone by? Maybe she'd gone to sleep, he thought desperately, and he clung to that hope like a man hanging from a rope on the side of a cliff.

She tried to turn in his arms again. “Don't move,” he whispered.

“I want to kiss you good night.”

His heart soared at her shyly whispered request. “No,” he snapped.

“Please?”

He sighed into her hair. “If you kiss me, I swear I won't stop. Now leave me alone and go to sleep.”

He made a mockery of his own ultimatum by nuzzling her neck again. He loved the feel of her skin against his mouth. He loved the little sound she made in the back of her throat, like a gasp but not quite.

Jessica stayed perfectly still for several heartbeats, and when she slowly turned in his arms, she knew exactly what she was doing and what it would lead to. Heedless of the consequences, she stroked the side of his face, stared into his beautiful eyes, and then slipped her hand behind his neck.

“I want this one night with you … just one night.”

“Jessica,” he whispered, his voice filled with anguish, “you don't know what you're saying…. Tomorrow, you'll regret…”

“I need you, Cole. Love me tonight.”

He couldn't be noble any longer. He sought her mouth hungrily, desperate with his desire to make her completely his.

For long minutes he made love to her with his mouth as his hand cupped her breast through her clothing. She was tugging at the buttons on his shirt.

He buried his face in her hair. “Slow down, sweet-heart,” he whispered. “Or I'll…”

He wanted the first time to be perfect for her, but her eagerness so excited him he was finding it impossible to follow his own instructions. His hands shook as he roughly removed her clothes, and when he pulled the straps of her chemise down over her shoulders and saw her beautiful breasts, he let out a groan. The pain of wanting her for so long blended with the sheer ecstasy he felt as he slowly came down on top of her, her smooth skin against his.

Her gasp of pleasure drove him wild. Her caresses became as bold as his, and when her nails scored the back of his thighs, the feeling was so exquisite, he thought he would die from it.

He wanted to kiss every inch of her body, and he did exactly that, spurred on by her cries of pleasure. When his hand slipped between her thighs, she tried to push him away, but he wouldn't be denied and within seconds was richly rewarded when she begged him not to stop.

Her passionate response equaled his own. He kissed her navel, smiling when she inhaled sharply, then moved lower to taste all of her.

“Now, Cole,” she cried out.

She was more than ready to receive him, but he wanted to prolong the blissful agony until he had so overwhelmed her she wouldn't notice the pain of his invasion.

She was writhing in his arms as he knelt between her thighs. “Look at me,” he demanded, his voice shaky with raw passion.

“This is forever.”

“Please…”

“Say it,” he demanded, his eyes piercing hers as he waited.

“Forever,” she cried out.

His mouth claimed hers for another searing kiss as he moved to make her his completely. His invasion was gentle but swift; as he thrust forward, he buried his head in her fragrant hair and closed his eyes in surrender.

She was exactly as he had fantasized she would be … perfect. He heard her cry, knew he'd hurt her, and stilled inside her, giving her time to adjust to him. He whispered loving words, but he was so out of his mind with his own raging need he didn't know if he was making any sense at all.

How could anything hurt like this and feel so
wonderful at the same time? Beyond control, she wanted to tell him to stop, but she didn't want him to leave her.

“It'll be all right in a minute,” he promised her.

He sounded out of breath. Then she realized she was panting. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and the slight movement caused a burst of pleasure to rush through her. She moved again, heard his groan, and realized then he liked it as much as she did.

He slowly withdrew and then just as slowly moved forward again.

“Will you stop teasing me?” she cried out.

His laugh was throaty. “I'm trying to be gentle.”

“Stop it,” she begged. “I want…”

He silenced her with another kiss and then began to move again inside of her. Her passion shook him. He had never been with a woman who was so honest and open with her desire, and the fact that she gave herself to him willingly and with love in her heart was surely the reason he completely let go of his control.

Determined to make their loving last as long as possible, he tried to slow the pace. She made it impossible, and when she arched up against him, the fire surged between them.

Their lovemaking was wild, free, beyond anything he had ever experienced before. He felt her tighten around him, heard her call his name, and as she found her own fulfillment, he thrust deep and gave in to his own.

His surrender was complete, body, heart, and soul. He collapsed on top of her but couldn't find enough strength to move.

She was quietly crying. He felt her hot tears on his shoulder and finally lifted his head to look at her.

“I hurt you, didn't I, sweetheart?”

He was filled with self-loathing, condemned himself for being too rough, too savage in his own desire. It
was her first experience, and he should have been more careful, much more tender…

“Jessie, say something.”

His anxiety pulled her out of her daze. She opened her eyes and looked into his, and the warmth she saw there made her tremble with a burst of love.

“Oh, no, you didn't … Well, you did, but it didn't … It was … amazing.”

He grinned with arrogant satisfaction. God, he loved her face. Her eyes were still glazed with passion, her mouth was red and swollen from his kisses. She looked thoroughly sated and pleased with herself, and how could he not love such a woman?

“Yeah, it was pretty amazing.” He reluctantly moved away from her. “But…”

She put her hand over his mouth. “Don't,” she whispered. “No regrets.”

“No regrets,” he agreed.

She rolled into his arms then and laid her head on his shoulder.

Nothing lasted forever.

She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't cry. How she wanted to believe him. No, he did love her, she knew, until tomorrow or the day after or the year after, but eventually, inevitably, he would leave.