And she didn’t want to go back downstairs to the sofa or kick him out so she could have the bed. She didn’t want to spend the night alone in this house, knowing he was only a few rooms or a stairwell away.
She teased the ends of his prickly, super-short hair, then let her fingers drift around to his neck and face. She stroked his jawline, with its layer of stubble making his cheeks rough.
That same five o’clock shadow scraped her skin as she dragged her mouth from his and began kissing everywhere else she could reach. Light, open-mouthed kisses that allowed her to take in every molecule of his scent and texture.
He smelled the same way he always had-delicious. His aftershave was one of those spicy sandalwood scents that reminded her of deep green pine forests, winter holidays, and isolated ski lodges with blazing fires in the hearth. Thanks to Gage, she was probably one of the only women on the planet who got turned on by Christmas trees.
She’d never told him that, but it was true. It was also the reason she’d jumped his bones in front of the tree each Christmas Eve while they were married, and why so many of their decorations consisted of ornaments bought at after-Christmas sales. Rolling around on a tree skirt and banging into the Douglas fir a few dozen times did tend to result in broken candy canes and shattered bulbs.
And it had only taken her one Christmas morning of pulling those tiny, static-clingy silver icicles out of her hair and clothes and… other regions… to realize the wisdom of switching to a single string of garland.
She chuckled, thoughts of the past making her happy instead of sad for a change. Gage, she knew, had simply counted himself lucky to be getting lucky, and every time she came home with a different batch of decorations for the tree, he’d merely shrugged and chalked it up to one of those “woman at a clearance sale” things.
“What’s so funny?” he asked in a low voice, and for the first time she realized his hands had somehow slipped under the hem of her pink tank top to skim the flesh of her midriff.
She shook her head, knowing she would never be able to explain, not in a few short seconds, and wanting to keep that particular memory to herself for a while longer.
“This won’t change anything,” he said when she didn’t reply. “When we wake up in the morning, all of the same problems we’ve always had will be right there waiting for us.”
The truth of his words pinched her heart, but they showed he’d been thinking along the same lines as she had. One night, one chance to experience again what they’d had during the early days of their marriage.
And then it would be over. The bright light of day would once again reveal all the sky-high hurdles between them that they couldn’t seem to jump over or knock down.
“I know.”
“And I’m not going away. You’ll still have to put up with me hanging around until we know…”
He let the sentence trail off, but they were both well aware of what he’d been about to say. A flashing neon BABY sign might as well have been hanging from the headboard.
“I know.”
His fingers continued to stroke her waist, her belly, the small of her back. Slowly, seductively, but his hands were so large that they covered a lot of space without needing to travel very far.
“It’s up to you, Jenna,” he murmured. “We can keep moving in the direction things are going, or I can get up and leave you alone. It’s your call.”
She shifted to lie more fully atop him, pressing her breasts into his chest and feeling the rigid length of his erection against her hip. It warmed her to know that even as aroused as he was, he had still offered to walk away.
“I don’t want you to go,” she said, rubbing her whole body lightly up and down against his.
He sucked in a breath and she saw the chords of his neck constrict. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, then in a grating tone said, “Fine. But you need to know that if I stay, I won’t be tied down this time.”
It was part warning, part threat, part reminder, and it sent a skittering of warmth blossoming low in her belly. Her throat was too tight, too dry to form words, so she merely nodded.
That was all it took for Gage’s eyes to go from glittering with mild interest to blazing with sharp arousal. Both expressions were potent and intelligent, but only one was hot and smoldering with danger.
Luckily, she liked danger. She liked living on the edge.
But only with one person.
Only with him.
She returned her mouth to his jaw, letting her lips skate along the rough surface.
“You can be in charge this time,” she whispered. “Whatever you want. However you want it. If you want to tie me to the bed instead, I’m game.”
His fingers flexed in the flesh of her upper arms, and before she knew what was happening, she was flat on her back on the mattress with Gage hovering above her.
“I don’t need toys and secondary fantasies,” he told her in a voice rough with meaning. “When I’m with you, I only want you, just as you are.”
His declaration brought a lump to her throat so that all she could do was swallow and blink back the sting of tears.
Gage wasn’t the romantic sort. He’d never been one to bring her flowers or candy or plan something special for Valentine’s Day. But once in a while he would utter something so beautiful, so heartfelt, he could have won a Mr. Romance competition against Prince Charming himself.
“It’s a shame we couldn’t work out our differences,” she told him when she could finally manage non-wavering speech, “because we really are perfect for each other.”
A flash of something dark and almost primitive passed over his face, but he didn’t respond. Not verbally, anyway. Instead, with a growl, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms above her head, then ground his entire body against hers from chest to ankle while he took her mouth in a toe-curling, breath-stealing, bone-crushing kiss.
Gage couldn’t decide what he wanted more-to wrap Jenna in about a thousand layers of cotton batting and cuddle her like a small child… or pin her to the bed and use his body to punish her for putting him through the wringer.
No one had ever been able to reach inside him and pull out his guts the way she could, and over the past couple days, she’d not only ripped them out, but tap-danced them straight into the ground.
He’d always thought guys who got mixed up in sex with the ex were… well, okay, yeah, lucky bastards as far as getting laid went, but also major morons. Once the marriage was over and the papers were signed, that needed to be the end, with both parties going their separate ways. Going back, even just for the occasional quick roll in the sack, was a bad idea. Bad with a capital B.
Lying in the cradle of Jenna’s thighs hadn’t altered his opinion, either. It was still a bad, bad idea.
But slap his ass and crown him the King of All Morons… damned if he was going to take the high road and walk away. He wasn’t sure he’d have been physically able, even if he’d wanted to-which he sure as hell didn’t.
So he’d take himself out back of the woodshed later. Probably whack his head against the wall a few hundred times and call himself every kind of name in the book, too.
Small price to pay, he rationalized, for another night spent with Jenna. Not tied to the bed at her mercy. Not being used in her misguided attempts to start a family. But making love with her the way they used to, the way he fantasized about while he was stuck on stakeouts or trapped undercover for weeks at a time.
His heart slowed its beat and his blood thickened, pumping like crude oil through his veins. Without warning, he pushed himself up and off the bed. Jenna made a startled, disappointed sound, which he ignored as he strode to his duffel where it rested on the floor in the corner and crouched to unzip the bag.