"Jake?" she said again when he didn't answer. She glanced up, but at this angle all she could see was the strong, smooth underside of his chin. The urge to reach out and touch him was strong. She didn't bother trying to deny or repress it. Her palm cupped the hard, square line of his jaw. She felt him startle. "Jake?"
His gaze sliced down to her, over her, into her, then quickly returned to the snow-dusted woods through which they continued to pick their way. "Hmmm?"
"I want to apologize."
One inky brow rose. Those were not the words he'd expected a properly bred society snob would say to the man who'd just stolen her virginity. Amanda Lennox should, to his way of thinking, be having a fit right about now. Wasn't that what all well bred young "ladies" did? Begged a man, teased him until they'd brought him to his knees, then cried that he'd forced her afterward? Yes, that was exactly what ladies did. He knew.
But not this lady. Amanda wasn't reacting at all the way he'd expected her to. In fact, she seemed oddly pleased with the loss of her innocence. Instead of coy or fearful or repentant, she looked... well, downright rejuvenated, that's how she looked. And, Jake groaned inwardly, she also looked like she wanted to talk.
"Are you going to accept it?" she prodded.
"Accept what?"
Amanda sighed. Whatever he was thinking about was too distracting. She decided it was time to distract his mind back to her. Lifting one of her hands, she toyed with the buttons trailing up his shirt. Actually, she spent more time on the warm, silky flesh her fingers frequently slipped beneath the plackets to stroke.
"My apology, Jake," she said finally. "What else?"
What else? God, he could think of several dozen things he would gladly accept from this woman right now. Hot, hungry, lustful things. An apology wasn't one of them. He forced a shrug. "All depends, princess. What are you apologizing for?"
"All the terrible things I said to you back there, before we... you know."
"No, I don't know." The barest trace of a grin tugged at his lips as he slanted her a look. His steely gaze was teasingly hot. "Before we what?"
"You know!" she insisted. Her blush deepened. His grin broadened. Amanda huffed and turned so that her back was again cradled by his chest. "I really am sorry, Jake."
"Did you mean what you said?"
She thought about that a second, then nodded. "Yes."
"Then don't apologize."
"But—"
He sighed. "Drop it, Amanda. Please, just let it go."
Amanda strained against him, craning her neck to look into his face. His long, inky hair was dusted with snow, his skin wet from where the flakes had melted to his body heat. His thick, dark lashes were at half-mast, his steely gaze lazy and hooded. Only his expression looked tight and controlled: tense, anxious.
She stiffened warily. "Jake?"
"Hmmm?" Blinking hard, Jake forced his eyes to pull the snow-dusted woods into focus. He scowled when his attention dipped, and his gaze meshed with haunting green. Her eyes were large and round and confused. He shifted uncomfortably, and pretended to tug on the reins that tethered her horse to his.
"Are you...?" Amanda pulled in a steadying breath. Something wasn't right. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the muscle in his cheek twitch, and she took note of the way his body had gone rigid against hers. "You aren't sorry we... well, about what happened, are you?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, his voice a soft, throaty whisper. "I'm very sorry about it. You should be, too."
Amanda's bubble of contentment burst, pricked by the sharp bite in Jake's tone. She winced, feeling as though he'd just reached inside her and ripped out a chunk of her heart. In a way he had. A very large chunk. While she knew the logic behind his words—his reasons undoubtedly stemmed from their last argument—knowledge didn't make her feel better. He was sorry he'd made love to her... oh, how that hurt!
She wasn't the only one hurting. Jake was shocked to realize that he was hurting, too. What had happened between him and Amanda was special—Jesus, was it ever!—but it was also con
fusing as all hell. He needed time to sort out his feelings—whatever they were. Time to think. Time to put his unnatural desire for this woman into its proper perspective.
His gaze had settled on the top of her head. His attention shifted, focusing on the woods the white was weaving its way through. They were almost at the top of the hill. Soon they would crest it. In only a few short minutes he would leave Amanda at the cabin that neither of them had dared to mention for quite a while now. Only a few more minutes.
Jake knew there were things he should say to Amanda right now, while he still had the time. Words he didn't want to say, words she probably didn't want to hear, words that needed to be aired all the same. He should have said them a while ago, but he hadn't. Looking back, he realized that immediately afterward, neither of them had talked at all. It was as though they'd both clung to the same desperate need not to say anything that would shatter the contented afterglow. Amanda hadn't cried, hadn't begged him to make false promises that he would live to regret come sundown. Promises he could never hope to keep to a woman like her.
While they'd dressed, their gazes had met and held often. Quick, hungry glances had spoken all that needed to be said at the time.
Again and again, for as long as it lasts. That was what Amanda's eyes had promised, what Jake's urgent gaze had reinforced. That, and nothing else.