"That's depressing," she whispered at close range. "It sounds like something you would do."
"Next time, we'll watch a comedy."
Then Willow kissed him, and the feel of her soft mouth on his was transporting. For a moment he could do nothing but give in and return the kiss. The gentle slide of her tongue between his lips was everything he wanted. Thank-you, universe.
But eventually he got a hold of himself, breaking their kiss by turning his chin. "Willow?"
"Yes?" she murmured.
"I've been promising myself I wouldn't do this tonight."
She was quiet for a moment, and he hoped she wouldn't be offended. "Dane," she said quietly. "You make a lot of rules for yourself, don't you?"
"Yeah," he said. "And I never had any trouble following them until the night I ran off the road with you. And now, when we're in the same area code together, I can't keep my head on straight."
"So you made a new rule that you don't want to kiss me tonight."
"Oh, I want to kiss you." And a lot more besides. "But I told myself I wouldn't, because I need you to trust me. Even if it takes a while."
"Hmm," Willow said, tapping a single finger on his lip. "Then can you do me a favor?"
"Anything."
"Try to find a way to be a little less hot?"
In the darkness, he smoothed her hair down her back and tried not to register the sensation of her breasts pressing against his chest. "I have facial hair and a gimp leg. That should help."
She put her hands on his beard, her fingers tracing a line down his face, toward his neck, which made him want to shout for joy. "That's insufficient," she said.
"It's pitch dark," he argued. "You can't even see me."
She moved away then, and Dane took a deep, steadying breath. The next sound was the strike of a match, and he saw a tiny flame over the coffee table as Willow lit a candle. Then she turned to face him, the yellow light flickering on her skin, shining golden on her hair.
He was in deep, deep trouble.
She curled herself like a cat next to him, her eyes on his. "Two things," she said. And then he almost didn't hear what the two things were, because she took that moment to lick her lips. The appearance of that pink tongue slicking across her perfect mouth made him temporarily deaf. "The first thing," she was saying, "is that apologies are very sexy. Secondly, you made a speech earlier tonight about wanting to do all the ordinary guys do with their girlfriends. What do you suppose they do when the power goes out?"
He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. "I'd give you a witty reply. But I'm finding it hard to think in sentences."
"Dane," she said, and her face wasn't teasing anymore. She looked into his eyes with such wonder that it would have been impossible to look away. "My life could not be more complicated right now. But there's a real connection between us. You can make all the rules you want, and it will still be there." She tipped her head, watching him.
He blew out a breath. "The night I met you, you told me ‘instinct is real.' But I've been fighting it my whole life."
"I'm not fearless," Willow said. "I don't want you to break my heart. But hiding from it won't help."
He gazed at her. Willow had surprised him the very first time they'd met. And now he understood that she was the only person he'd ever met who was capable of surprising him every day for the rest of his life. "I want to be more like you," he said. "You face everything head on."
"You did that today," she said. "That's why I can do this." She brought her face close to his, brushing her lips against his.
He closed his eyes then, to the sensation of falling. Clinging to Willow, he heard a moan escape the back of his throat. She silenced it with her lips. Then they were kissing, their mouths wordlessly finishing the conversation. He didn't deserve her, and he told her by sucking gently on her lower lip.
She wanted him anyway, and she expressed this with her fingertips, which caressed his neck, and with her tongue, tasting him and teasing him.
He was so sorry to have hurt her, and his hands cradled her back to tell her so. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her top, smoothing her soft skin, apologizing. When he opened his eyes, the candlelight danced on the walls, and flickered in the dark pools of her eyes. "Willow," he said, just to hear her name on his own lips. He tipped her carefully onto her side, so that her head rested against his chest, facing him. Then he lifted her top a few inches, placing one hand across her belly. He held it there.
She put her own hand on top of his. "There's nothing to see yet," she whispered.
He stroked her stomach anyway. "Do you feel different?"
Willow nodded. "Morning sickness is real. And some days I'm so tired."
"I'm sorry," he said.
She smiled. "I'm not. It's just temporary."
He dragged a finger across her tummy, just at the waistband of her jeans. She closed her eyes with pleasure, her legs shifting slightly. He felt his own pulse grow ragged with desire. "Willow, is it safe to make love to a pregnant woman?"
Her smile was playful. "If it wasn't, the species would go extinct. Another symptom of pregnancy is that it makes you want to all the time."
"Good to know," he chuckled.
"It has something to do with increased blood flow in the area." She rolled her torso onto his, her breasts pressing against his chest, her face buried in his neck. "Dane?"
"Yeah?"
"Is it safe to make love to a man with a broken leg?"
He stroked her hair. "We could find a way. Maybe not on the kitchen counter."
"I guess the Jeep is out, then?"
* * *
Dane followed Willow and the flickering candle into the bedroom. He eased himself onto her bed, his back against the headboard. "Willow," he said, his voice low. "Do you have a cushion I could use to prop up the gimp leg?"
"Of course." She found a pillow, and he hauled his knee onto it. She lay down on his other side, her body curled against him. But then she gave a troubled sigh. "This is the scene of the crime," she whispered.
He turned his head sharply. "Don't say that, Willow. I don't regret anything except being mean to you."
"Okay. But I'm still allowed to be a little embarrassed."
He stroked her chin with his thumb. "Really? If our mistake ends up changing my whole outlook on life, will you still be embarrassed?"
Her face was thoughtful. "The trouble is that someday my child will ask me where babies come from. When your mother explained it to you, what did she say? My foster mother said, ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much … '"
He kissed her on the head. "I have plenty of time to make an honest woman out of you then," he said. "If you let me, I plan to love you very much."
She didn't say anything, just pressed her face tighter against him.
"Are you okay?"
She gave a little sigh. "Yes. It's just that I can feel the complications pressing in on me."
He put his hands on either side of Willow's ribcage and lifted her, until her beautiful face looked down on his. Then he set her down on his chest, closing his eyes as he found her lips.
Her mouth softened for him, her lips opening to receive him. She caressed his chest with two hands. "It's hard to feel bad when you kiss me," she whispered.
He cupped his hands on her face. "All right. Because I can keep this up a good long time." He was greedy with his next kiss, his lips hungry, his tongue encouraging her. Eventually she began to relax, her body melting onto his, her soft face heavy in his palms.
"Mmm," she said, stretching her leg across his body, straddling his hips. "Is this okay?" she whispered, her eyes flicking back toward his injured leg.
"That is better than okay," he said. He gathered the fabric of her top in his hands, pulling it over her head. It was just incredible to touch her again. He'd spent weeks wanting her, absolutely certain that he would never again have the chance. But here were his fingers, caressing the satin cups of her bra. And here was her hair, sliding over his chest.
"You beautiful thing," he whispered. He reached around her and unclasped the bra. Her breasts bounced free, and he gasped. "Christ," he laughed. "You're huge."