When Lightning Strikes

Still kissing, their hands urgently exploring each other's bodies, they kicked out of their cowboy boots and pulled off their socks and pants, flinging them wherever. Then his hands were at her breasts again, doing marvelous, tingling things that made her throb with need.

He pulled back slightly, breathing hard. "Do you want to use the bed?"

She glanced behind him to the sagging, unmade wooden bed. The mattress was yellowed and dusty and completely uninviting. They'd have to get out their bedrolls to use it. "No," she said throatily, reaching down for him. "I can't wait that long."

At her touch, he shuddered hard. "Jesus, Lainie .. ." He ripped her panties off in a hiss of tearing fabric and flung them over his shoulder. She clutched at his shoulders, dragging him against her. They staggered backward and hit the wall again. The splintery log wall scratched her skin and banged her head, but she barely noticed. All she could feel was the cresting ache of need. It swelled and throbbed and sent feelers of fire through her blood.

His hands slid down the curve of her back and settled at her bottom. He lifted her off her feet. She threw her arms around him and curled her legs around his thighs, lowering herself onto his sleek hardness.

He forced her back against the wall and thrust deeper inside her, impaling her. His body pressed against hers, grinding against the secret, sensitive core of her desire. Sensations exploded in her body, left her writhing and breathless.

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A scream tore up her throat, stunning her. She tried to hold it back, but her will was gone. All she could think about was her body, and the forbidden, sensual things he was making her feel. She clung to him, riding him, scratching his sweaty back with her fingernails. At every thrust, she gasped and arched and matched his movement, driving her slick, shaking body against his. The wall behind them cracked and shuddered, raining dirt on their hair. The smell of the dust and sweat mingled, joined the sweet scent of passion, and thickened the air.

They rocked and writhed and thrust in a frantic rhythm that brought Lainie to the brink of madness. She clung to him, riding the rocking motion of his buttocks as he slid in and out of her, thr

usting harder, deeper. She responded wantonly, meeting him move for move, her legs locked behind his thighs, her arms curled around his neck.

For a second, everything dwindled down to that place where their bodies were joined, sealed skin to skin. Her skin burned, and she couldn't breathe suddenly for wanting him, needing him. The ache between her legs intensified, turned from something sweet and heavy to a throbbing, desperate pain.

"Oh, God, Killian ..." She threw her head back and closed her eyes.

He kissed down her throat, hot, moist kisses that landed everywhere, burning her flesh. Then he took one nipple in his mouth, drawing it deep, flicking the hardened tip with his tongue.

The release burst upon her like before, only a thousand times more intense. She stiffened and shuddered and cried out his name in a hoarse, breathy voice. Her body seemed to spiral into some great, black void.

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Weightlessly she floated back to earth. Tears stung her eyes and slipped down her temples.

Finally, shaking with the aftermath of their passion, she lifted her head and met his gaze. The sad, loving look in his eyes almost broke her heart. Everything that stood between them was in that look, the love, the passion ... and beneath it, hovering and dark, the impossibility of there ever being any more between them than there was right now.

She felt a swelling sense of despair. All her life she'd waited for this moment, this emotion. She'd wanted to revel in it, savor it like a glass of fine, aged wine. But now she couldn't. She had to grab at it greedily, clutch whatever remnant of it she could before it turned to smoke.

They should be cuddling and talking and laughing like new lovers. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so many questions she wanted to ask about his life. But none of it really mattered; things like that only mattered to couples building a future together. She and Killian were just reliving a past. There was nowhere for them to go.

With a quiet sigh, she rested her head against his damp chest and closed her eyes. They stood locked together, the sweet scent of their passion heavy in the dank air, and already it felt as if they were miles apart. There wasn't a heartbeat of joy between them, just this grave, depressing realization that it was going by too fast, that it wouldn't last.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed the damp, curly tendrils of hair from her face. His hold on her buttocks loosened and she slid down the length of his body. Her bare feet hit the floor with a muffled thud.

She lifted her head, though it felt impossibly heavy. Their gazes met, and in his dark eyes she saw the mirror

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of her own pain and regret. She tried to smile. "You're turning me into a real slut, Killian."

She could tell that he wanted to smile, but he couldn't. "Give me a lifetime and there's no telling how you'll turn out."

The words pierced her heart. "Don't," she said softly. "Don't ask that of me, Killian. I have a baby at home who needs me."

"I need you."

The despair increased, seeped through her body until she felt deflated and limp. It took almost more energy than she possessed to speak. "I need you, too, but all we can do is make the best of the time we have. There's nothing more for us."

She started to turn away, to walk past him and get her clothes. The moment of their intimacy was gone, shattered. She felt alone suddenly, maybe more alone than ever before in her life.