From the Heart

not complicated.”
    “I’ve been working on sorting you out for a year and a half,” he returned. “It isn’t an easy job.”
    “Don’t try.” She let her hand roam over his shoulder again. She liked the feel of muscle, knowing he could control it into gentleness. “Thorpe, have you had many lovers?”
    He gave a muffled laugh. “That’s a delicate question to ask at the moment, Carmichael.”
    “I wasn’t going to ask for names and numbers,” she countered, sighing as his hand moved down her back. “It’s just that I haven’t really. I’m not very good at it.”
    “Good at what?” he asked absently. His casual explorations were teasing his own need for her.
    She felt awkward suddenly, and searched for a phrase. “At—ah—pleasing a partner.”
    The movement of his hand stopped, and he drew back to study her face in the darkness. “Are you joking?”
    “Well, no.” She was embarrassed now. If she hadn’t been so relaxed, she would never have put herself into such a position. She fumbled on. “I know I’m not very—exciting in bed, but—”
    “Who the hell put that into your head?”
    The sharp annoyance surprised her. My husband trembled on the edge of her mind. “It’s just something I’ve known—”
    He swore ripely and stopped her. “Do you think I was pretending just now?”
    “No.” She was confused suddenly, and unsure of herself. “Were you?”
    He was angry, almost unreasonably so. Rolling, he pinned her beneath him. “I wanted you, from the first moment I saw your face. Did you know that?”
    She shook her head, unable to speak. A fresh surge of passion raced through her at the press of his body, the grip of his hands.
    “You’re so cool, so aloof, and I could see all those whispers of heat. I wanted you like this, naked in my bed.”
    His mouth crushed down on hers, bruisingly, furiously. Her lips were eager for his, accepting the anger, the demand, matching the hunger.
    “I wanted to strip away the layers,” he muttered. He moved his hands over her until she was writhing mindlessly. “I was going to have you—melt all that ice.” His hand slipped between her thighs and she arched, yearning for him. “But there wasn’t any ice, any need for games when I held you. If you didn’t please another man, it was his fault. His loss. Remember it.”
    She was on fire. Her hands touched, searched, stroked on their own power while her mouth roamed his neck. She could feel his pulse go wild under her tongue. She pulled at him, dragging his mouth back to hers. The taste—his taste. She was desperate for it. He trembled with her.
    Then the kiss was savage, staggering her with the knowledge that she had taken him beyond the civilized. This was nopretense. He was totally lost in her—in what they made together. She felt it, marveled at it, then swirled into a mist where no thoughts could penetrate.
    She was limp, utterly spent, her breath and body shuddering. His weight was on her fully, and his back was damp under her hands. There was no measuring the time they lay there, replete in each other.
    “I suppose you’re right.” His voice was dark and husky. “That wasn’t very exciting.”
    Liv didn’t think she had the energy to laugh, but it bubbled inside her, warm and comfortable. She didn’t know how he knew exactly the right thing to say, but she accepted it. It was a novel and wonderful sensation, to laugh in bed. He lifted his head and grinned at her.
    “Idiot,” he said softly, and kissed her. Shifting, he gathered her to his side. She was asleep in moments and lay still. He held her.

11
    T he alarm clock went off with a shrill. Automatically, Liv reached over to shut off the blast and rolled into Thorpe. Her eyes shot open. Disoriented, groggy, she stared into his eyes while the bell continued to peal. Part of her mind registered the shadow of beard on his chin, the sleepy heaviness of his eyes as they looked into hers.
    I slept with him, she remembered. Made love with him and slept the night in his bed. The knowledge registered slowly. She could feel a trace of astonishment in the full light of day, but though she searched and wondered, there were still no regrets. She had been given passion, gentleness, caring. How could there be regrets?
    Thorpe reached behind him and snapped off the alarm. Silence was abrupt and complete. Saying nothing, he gathered Liv against him. He had seen the dazed surprise in her face, then the gradual understanding and