Silent Run

baby up, not even to Caitlyn’s father.
    Restless, Sarah turned over on her side, putting her hands under her face, trying to stop thinking so much. But with the thought of Jake came a singing rush of blood through her veins. With every passing second she had become more acutely aware of him. She’d seen every side of his personality, from anger and bitterness to kindness and caring. He hated her, but he’d saved her life. Maybe he’d done it for Caitlyn, but he’d done it all the same. He was a good man -- a man who claimed to have loved her.
    She wanted to open her eyes, to call him over, to replay that explosive kiss they’d shared earlier. She couldn’t lie to herself: She wanted Jake. She didn’t know if her feelings came from the past or the present, but with each passing minute she became more acutely aware of every little thing about him: the tenor of his voice, the lingering scent of his aftershave, the strength of his hands when he held her.
    She had to bite back a sigh. She couldn’t let Jake get any closer. They were skating along the edge of a cliff, and the last thing she needed to do was make another mistake. So she squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her fingers in the pillowcase. Sleep, that was all she was going to do.
    * * *
    Jake was relieved to see that Sarah had fallen asleep. Maybe he could concentrate better now. Since they’d walked into the motel room, his body had gone on high alert. They hadn’t checked into the motel to have sex, and that was definitely the last thing he wanted to do with Sarah... well, maybe not the last thing, but it certainly wouldn’t be the smartest thing. They simply needed a place to spend the night. And there were two beds, thank God. He wouldn’t have to worry about her rubbing her body against his the way she’d done every night of the two years they’d been together. He wouldn’t have to be afraid that he’d wake up with her head on his chest, her arm around his waist, her hair tickling his nose, her scent teasing him into hardness, her legs wrapped around his.
    Dammit . He ran a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t be remembering the good times, the way she couldn’t keep her hands off of him while she slept, as if she had a desperate need to keep him close to her.
    Remember the bad times. Remember the night you came home and Sarah and Caitlyn were gone. Remember the lonely, desperate days when you thought you would never see them again. Remember how much you hate her now.
    Only he didn’t hate her. He didn’t want to admit it, even in his own head, but it was the truth. He cast another quick look at Sarah stretched out on the bed, knowing he’d just made another mistake, because he couldn’t look away now. His senses were fully engaged in the sight of her face, the gorgeous hair that he remembered wrapping around his fingers as he moved inside her body, those breasts, soft, full, begging to be touched. She had curves in all the right places, and he wanted to sink into those curves until he made everything right again. But that wasn’t going to happen, and his desire for her was crazy.
    He was lusting after a woman who had treated him like shit. What the hell was wrong with him? He could get another woman. He could get lots of other women who were nowhere near as complicated and confusing as Sarah.
    Forcing himself to look away, he rolled his neck around on his shoulders. Then he tried to distract himself by setting up the computer. But as each program slowly installed, his thoughts drifted relentlessly back to the woman on the bed.
    He’d told Sarah that he could never forgive her. He’d told her he could never forget what she’d done to him -- that their relationship was over, done, finished. And that was the way it should be, the way he wanted it to be. Some actions were inexcusable. What kind of man would he be if he gave her another chance to hurt him?
    His gaze drifted back to her, and he sighed. In sleep her face was even softer and sweeter. She wasn’t a cold, hard woman, a ruthless, manipulative bitch. She just wasn’t. And the truth was that until the day she’d run away, she’d always given him everything he’d wanted.
    But she had lied, he reminded himself. She’d made up stories about her parents and grandparents. She’d never told him she’d grown up in foster care, that she’d been abandoned, which now