Black Hills

better than what I left, then, would I?”
    “You chose to be better than what you left.”
    “God’s truth is, Lil, Jenna and Joe saved me. I don’t know where I’d’ve ended up, or if I’d’ve made it there in one piece without them taking me in.”
    “I guess we were all lucky that day you stuck out your thumb and my father drove by. This man, the one we think is out there, he had it rough as a kid.”
    “So what? He’s not a kid now, is he?”
    She shook her head. It was simple Farley logic—and while she appreciated it, Lil knew people were a lot more complicated as a rule.
    Just after two, she went inside. She stowed her rifle and went upstairs. She still had some nice lingerie from her Jean-Paul days. But it seemed wrong to wear for Coop what she’d worn for another man.
    Instead she changed into her usual sleeping garb of flannel pants and a T-shirt, then sat on the side of the bed to brush out her hair.
    Tired? she thought. Yes, she was tired, but also aware. She wanted him to come to her, wanted to be with him after a long and difficult day. To make love with him while the rain drummed and night crept toward morning.
    She wanted something bright in her life, and if it was a complicated shine, it was better than the dull and the dark.
    She heard him come in, and rose to put her brush back on her dresser. Letting her mind drift, she walked back to turn down the bed. And turned to face him as he came in.
    “We need to talk,” she said. “A lot has to be said. But it’s two in the morning. Talk’s for the daylight. I just want to go to bed with you. I just want to feel, to know there’s something good and strong after a day that’s been so bleak.”
    “Then we’ll talk in the daylight.”
    He came to her then, tunneled his fingers through her hair, tipped her head back. His lips met hers with a tenderness, a patience she’d forgotten he could give.
    Here was the sweet they’d once shared.
    She lay down with him on cool, smooth sheets, and opened body, mind, and heart. Slow and soft, as if he knew she needed . . . tending. Tension slipped away, swept back by pleasure. His hands glided over her, hard palms, a gentle touch. On a contented sigh, she turned her head as his lips explored her throat, her jaw.
    No need to rush, to take and take, not this time. This was silk and velvet, warm and smooth. Not just sensation now, not just desires met, but feelings . She slid his shirt away, traced her fingers over the scar at his side.
    “I don’t know if I could have stood it if—”
    “Shh.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissed her fingers, then her mouth. “Don’t think. Don’t worry.”
    Tonight he could give her peace, and take some for himself. Tonight he wanted to show her love as much as passion. More. Tonight they would savor each other. Skin, sighs, scents.
    She smelled of the rain, somehow both dark and fresh. Tasted of it. He drew her clothes away, touching, tasting the newly exposed flesh, lingering when she shivered.
    Scars crossed her, too. Scars that hadn’t been there when they’d first become lovers and all that lovely skin had been unmarred. Now she bore the marks of her work. Just as, he supposed, the scar left by a bullet had been a mark of his.
    They were not what they had been, either of them. And yet she was still the only woman he’d ever wanted.
    How many times had he dreamed of this, of loving Lil through the night? Of having her hands run over him, of having her body move with his.
    She rolled, shifted to trail her lips over his chest, to bring them back to his and sink, sink, sink into the kiss while her hair fell around him in dark curtains. Beneath her hands, her lips, his heart tripped and stumbled. He rose up to wrap his arms around her, to rock and hold as his mouth found her breast.
    Here pleasure was thick, movement slow, and every nerve alive.
    She watched him as she took him into her, watched as her breath caught, then shuddered out again. Her lips came to his, trembling in the kiss. Then her body bowed, her eyes drifted shut.
    She rode, gently, gently, drawing out every drop of pleasure. Slow and silky, so the beauty of it had tears rising in her throat. Even as her body released, her heart filled.
    She let her head rest on his shoulder as she drifted down again. He turned his face into the side of her throat. “Lil,” he said. “God, Lil.”
    “Don’t say anything. Please don’t.” If he did, she might say too much. She had no defenses