She knew somehow that she would have many mornings in her life like this, mornings when she woke up and thought of her parents, her son; the loved ones she had lost. And though the pain was still there, still ached in her heart, for the first time in her life, she knew she could go on. Knew someday she could smile again.
She pushed to her elbows, staring down at the man beside her. Sunlight crept through the window and wreathed him in a halo of wavering gold. He lay on his back, one arm flung over the side of the bed, the other scrunched up protectively against his chest.
She loved him.
She didnt need her father to tell her how she felt anymore. His smile, his laughter, his gentleness, his honesty. They were all invisible threads that bound her to him like steels bands.
She thought about last night, about all that hed given her, and she ached to give something back to him. But she had nothing of value, nothing that he needed.
What about love?
The thought came to her out of nowhere, stunning her with its simple power.
Before she could stop it, hope crept into her soul and seized hold, refusing to be rationalized away.
Maybe beneath that swaggering, smiling exterior, he was as lonely as she, as tired of being alone. Maybe he needed her as much as she needed him. Maybe, someday, he could even learn to love her.
Please, God, let him stay. . . .
Tears stung her eyes. She didnt bother to wipe them away. Never again would she be afraid to cry. There would be no more hiding for her, no more emotional armor.
From how on, shed face life head-on and fight for her happiness.
Shed give him everything she had to give, her heart and soul and body, and hope that it was enough.
It was all she could do.
A pleasant, tingling sensation spread through Mad Dogs body. He shifted his weight, tangling in the warm sheets that curled around him. An unfamiliar scent filled his nostrils, teased him to a woozy state of semi-consciousness. He flung one arm sideways, stretching.
His arm landed across something warm and solid. Flesh, he realized groggily. He was sleeping next to someone.
Flesh. The realization ripped the last clinging clouds of sleep from his mind. He opened his eyes.
Mariah lay snuggled against him, her chin poised lightly on his chest, her lips a hairsbreadth from his left nipple. He felt the whisper-soft caress of her breathing against his skin.
He almost groaned aloud at the sight of her. Heat slid through his body and landed in his groin.
She gave him a slow, lazy smile, and pushed a tangled skein of hair from her still sleepy eyes. "Morning," she said in a soft, throaty voice that made him think of sex.
He blinked, tried to sound casual. "Mornin. I guess youre feeling better. . . . "
"I feel great. " Her gaze melted into his. Slowly she pushed the tip of her tongue past her parted lips and licked his nipple. "And you," she drawled, "taste even better than I feel. "
The warm, wet tip of her tongue scalded him. He shivered in response. Arousal hardened his body, saturated his senses. Hed never had a woman initiate sex before—not even when he paid for their attentions. Jesus, it was nice. . . .
She licked his nipple again, tugged at it with her teeth.
Another low, gravelly groan escaped him. "Where did you learn that?" he said, trying to force laughter into his breathless voice.
"From you. " Her mouth closed around his nipple, teased it into hardness.
Mad Dog sank deeper into the pile of pillows and closed his eyes. Who in the hell would have known this felt so good? No one had ever done this to him before; hed never thought to ask for it. One of the drawbacks of sleeping with whores, he thought lazily. You got what you paid for, and not a goddamn thing more.
But it was more than that, and he knew it. He was feeling something that went beyond physical sensation. She was touching his body with her tongue, and he felt it there, but somehow what she was doing went deeper. As if that gentle, moist tongue of hers were flicking his heart as well.
She looked up, smiling. Their eyes met, and in the bourbon depths, he saw a reflection of his own emotions. The power of the moment hit him hard. His chest tightened, his ability to breathe melted away.
"What are you doing?"