"We'll be quiet," she whispered against his mouth, and yum, he'd shaved with that shower. "You can kiss me quiet which will double the pleasure."
He smoothed her hair from her face with hands that shook. "I wish I could take you somewhere special."
She hitched her leg over his hip. "Simply having you is far more special than any setting."
"I may not be able to do anything about the setting. But I can damn well improve the squeaky conditions." He inched from under her leg, stood and tugged the rumpled spread from under her.
"Lucas!" she whispered.
He fluttered the red-and-gold blanket over the rug, pitching pillows haphazardly. Lowering to one knee in a classic proposal pose that stung her eyes with tears, he extended a hand for her.
For a few precious seconds she let herself soak up the sight of him, lean and dark with an angular strength that would age well. Relief swelled again. She would have the joy of seeing him at fifty, even seventy. He was alive, and no matter what happened between them as a couple, they were linked by Lucia.
Somehow she knew he would be just as appealing with even more gray in his hair. His innate honor and character would stay with him, stamped on his face that was currently so serious and intent on making their time together special. How could she not be totally...
Entranced.
Clasping his hand, she sank to her knees in front of him. She kissed his bandaged arm carefully. "I'm sorry."
He buried his face in her neck. "Losing you hurt worse."
She cupped his face and kissed him hard, tongues and emotions rasping hot and raw before she eased back to pant against his mouth. "How did we make such a mess of things?"
His hands skimmed down her shoulders to cover her breasts, his mouth against the base of her neck. "Is that really what you want to talk about?"
"I'm not sure I want to talk at all unless it's to tell you how excellent..."
He brushed his thumbs in light circles.
Her breath hitched, "...how excellent...that feels. Don't stop."
"As long as we can last."
He lowered her to the floor, side by side, the blanket and rug more cushioning than their jungle bed the past couple of nights.
Plus the floor didn't squeak.
The dim glow from the bedside crystal lamp provided more romantic lighting than any candles—quite possibly because she'd learned the importance of the emotions, the moment. The person.
She let herself savor the feel of his hands under her clothes, against her skin. The never-to-be-underestimated pleasure of simply kissing.
Except kissing wouldn't be enough tonight. "You should probably find one of those condoms before we take this any further and forget."
Lucas smiled against her mouth, kissing her quickly, then slower, before backing away. "Smart lady."
She flopped onto her back and allowed herself the indulgence of watching him. Unhooking his survival vest from the rocking chair, he tugged a small packet from one of the many pockets. A condom. Of course they needed birth control with so much unsettled between them. But a small corner of her heart couldn't stop thinking of the miracle of having his baby inside her and what it might be like to savor that miracle together.
He returned to her side, frowning as he looked down at her. "Sara? Second thoughts?"
She shook her head. "Not second. Just thoughts."
He must have seen the memories in her eyes or felt them in the air, because he knelt beside her and splayed his hand over her stomach. "I'm sorry I wasn't there with you when you carried Lucia, and I will regret until the day I die, missing those first years with her."
The hoarse emotion in his voice washed over her. She covered his hand with hers, her throat too tight to push words past. What would have happened if there hadn't been an attack on the embassy that day?
She would have still been pregnant and Lucas would have insisted they marry. She wouldn't have been able to hold out against his insistence then.
Would they have lasted? They'd been on their way to breaking up that day as she pressed for more from him, some proof of intense love as her panic grew over possibly being pregnant. Now their arguments seemed small in comparison to the grief they hadn't known was waiting for them that day in a rebel's gun outside the gate.