"Lainey?"
She whirled around at the sound of his voice. "Micah!"
He stood in the doorway, wrapped in one of her flowered sheets, and a bandage. "Have they gone?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have involved you in this."
"It's all right," she said with a shrug, although a thousand questions crowded her mind. "They said you were a fugitive."
"I'm not."
"Why didn't they find you? Where did you go?"
"I went out the window."
"You might not be safe here," Lainey said. "They might come back."
"Then I'll go out the window again. Unless you wish me to leave."
"No." She didn't want him to leave. Not now. Not ever.
"Lainey..."
Her gaze met his and something warm and tangible arced between them, a need that sizzled like chain lightning, an awareness that pulsed in time to the beat of her heart, making her forget everything but the look in his eye and the sudden, fluttery feeling in her stomach.
"Micah?"
She whispered his name, afraid to cross the invisible barrier between them, knowing that once she stepped into his arms, she'd never be able to turn back. She would be his then, body and soul, and she had vowed never to let another man wield that kind of power over her again. It was too traumatic when it was over, too painful to look back and think of what might have been.
Resolutely, she took a step backward and crossed her arms over her breasts in a decidedly defensive gesture.
Micah looked at Lainey, at her rigid stance, at the wary expression on her face. Only a few feet of carpeted floor separated them, yet he felt as if a chasm had opened between them.
Overwhelmed by a sharp sense of loss, he took a step toward her. "Lainey, let me hold you."
"I don't think it's a good idea."
"Please." The look in his eyes spoke more eloquently than words. "Just for a moment."
She went to him because she couldn't resist the pleading in his gaze, the need in his voice.
She went because he was hurting and far from home.
She went because she wanted to.
Lainey rested her head on his chest, felt his arm circle her waist. As before, she was flooded with a sense of peace, of coming home after a long absence.
Micah held her for a long while, saying nothing, doing nothing more than holding her close while he lightly stroked her hair. She made him feel strong, invincible, and yet strangely vulnerable, continually arousing emotions he had never experienced, making him question the habits of a lifetime.
"You can tell me," Lainey said quietly. "Whatever it is you're running from, you can tell me."
"I wish I could."
She heard the regret in his voice, the need to share his troubles with someone who would listen and understand. "Don't you trust me?"
"With my life,cominza ."
"Cominza?"
"It means my lovely one."
Lainey tilted her head back so she could see his face. "You trust me with your life, but not your secrets?"
"It's for your own good," Micah said. And mine.
"Okay, okay, I give up."
"Lainey, if you only knew... if I only had the words to tell you..."
"Tell me what?"
"How you make me feel. When I hold you like this, I feel as though anything is possible, anything at all."
"There's nothing wrong with those words." Deeply touched, she resorted to humor as she frequently did when she was genuinely moved or embarrassed.
"Lainey..."
"I'm sorry."
"No. I've never felt anything like this before. It scares me a little."
He wasn't like Drew at all, she thought. Drew had always been self-confident, assured, secure in his charm, in his ability to say just the right thing. A real macho jerk.
Lainey let her gaze meld with Micah's. He might be hiding all kinds of secrets about his life, his past, but there was nothing secretive about the look in his eyes, those amazing silver-blue eyes that revealed a vulnerability and a yearning that went straight to her heart.
"I'm a little scared myself," Lainey admitted. "But it's a wonderful kind of fright."
"Yes," Micah agreed. "Wonderful."
She was so beautiful. Her dark brown eyes were guileless; her skin was smooth and clear. Her hair curled around her face like a soft black cloud. And her lips... those full pink lips that beckoned and tempted...
Slowly, unable to stop himself, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. Her lips were warm and soft and pliant. He kissed her, gently, tentatively, and then he kissed her again. A moment could have passed. An eternity could have passed.
Her lips parted and his tongue touched hers. Tiny flames of fire ignited in his groin, heating the blood that flowed through his veins. Driven by a need more powerful than any he'd ever known, he let his arms tighten around her, drawing her up against him so there could be no doubt of what he felt, what he wanted.
Lainey surrendered to the hunger he aroused in her. Her head fell back and she shivered with pleasure as his lips burned a path along her neck before returning to her mouth. His tongue danced with hers, his hands caressed her back, her belly, the curve of her breast. She felt a tremor of anticipation when she felt the unmistakable evidence of his desire.
"Micah," she murmured breathlessly, "you aren't going to send me away again, are you?"
He looked confused. "Send you away?"
"Last time we kissed like this, you sent me away, remember?"
"I remember." He smiled down at her. "I was afraid of hurting you."
"And now?'' She stood on tiptoe and pressed butterfly kisses to his cheek.
"I'm still afraid of hurting you," he admitted in a voice like rough velvet, "but I don't ever want to let you go."
"And I don't want you to."
For a timeless moment, they gazed into each other's eyes. And then, drawn by a power he was helpless to resist, he covered her mouth with his while the sheet fell, unnoticed, to the floor.
It seemed to be a kiss without beginning, without end. Slowly, their arms locked around each other, they sank to the floor.
Lainey caressed his bare back, loving the touch of his heated flesh beneath her fingertips. She was breathless when he drew away and she tilted her head back, giving him access to her throat. For a moment, he only stared at her, and then he lowered his head and flicked his tongue over her wildly beating pulse.
"Lainey, I want..."
"What?" she murmured, her tone low and seductive. "What do you want?"
"I'm not sure." He buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing in the musky scent of her skin, the flowery scent of her hair. "I've never..."
"Never?"
He shook his head, afraid of appearing a fool. "I don't know what you expect, how to please you."
"Well, you're doing a first-rate job so far," Lainey murmured. She pulled away a little so she could see his face. "Just do whatever you want."
"I want to touch you and kiss you, memorize every lovely curve. I want to draw you into myself and never let you go." Hesitantly, his hand cupped her breast, then splayed over her heart. "I want your heart to beat with mine."
"Oh, Micah..."
His hungry gaze trapped hers as he started to undress her, waiting for her permission even though she'd already told him to do whatever he wished.
She nodded slightly, her eyes watching him as he undressed her, loving the way his breath caught in his throat as his gaze moved over her, warming her from the inside out. He caressed her as if she were made of spun glass, as if she might shatter if he held her too hard.
It was like being worshiped, she thought, like being adored. His hands and lips were ever so gentle as they explored her, learning what made her sigh with pleasure, what made her gasp with longing. She held him and coaxed him until he was quivering with need, and when they came together it was like two stars colliding.
They lay spent in each other's arms for a long while, her head pillowed in the hollow of his shoulder, his arm curved possessively around her waist. It felt so right, Lainey thought. Making love to Drew had never been like this. And yet she couldn't help feeling a little guilty. She had refused to let Drew touch her until they were legally and lawfully married, and yet she had melted in Micah's arms after knowing him for only a matter of days.
Micah, keenly attuned to her moods, sensed her doubts. "You're sorry we joined," he said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. "Why?"
"I'm not sorry."' Nervously, she licked her lower lip. "It's just that this is all happening so fast. I don't want you to think that... what I'm trying to say is that I don't sleep around, Micah. I never have."
"Sleep around?" Turning on his side, he propped his head on one hand and stared down at her, his brow furrowed
"I don't have casual sex."
"You call this casual?"
"No. I guess I'm not making myself clear. What I mean is that I don't just sleep with every guy I meet. I haven't been with a man since my divorce and..."
"Divorce?"
Lainey nodded. "I divorced my first husband a little over two years ago."
"I don't understand divorce."
"I was married, and now I'm not."
"Married." The word stabbed him to the heart. It was an earth term that meant to join, to unite. To mate.
She had been with another man. Jealousy was an emotion he had not heretofore experienced, but he recognized it immediately. "Do you have offspring?"
"No." There was a world of sadness in that one single word. "I'm only telling you this because I don't want you to think badly of me."
"And do you think badly of me because of what we have done?"
"No. I just don't want you to think I'm promiscuous."
Micah grunted softly, unable to think of anything other than the fact that she had been with another man, that he was not the first to hold her, to touch her, to receive the gift of her love.
He tried to think logically, to convince himself that there was no reason for him to be jealous that she had been with another man, no basis for the swift unreasoning anger that swept through him when he imagined her in another man's arms, but the feelings remained, along with the fact that she had been married and divorced.
His people did not mate for life; hence there was no such thing as divorce. They came together to procreate, then went their separate ways. If a male felt the need for sexual release outside of the mating ritual, there were planets where those cravings could be satisfied. But what he wanted from Lainey was more than the sexual gratification they had shared. His need for her was an ache he had never known before, a soul-deep hunger that was deeper and more meaningful than a few moments of physical relief. He wanted to know her heart and her mind, to share in her every thought, her every hope, her every aspiration.
More than that, he wanted to share his thoughts and dreams with her, tell her everything... And that he could never do.
The full impact of what he had done hit him then. He had joined with a woman not of his world. Joined with a woman who could never be his.
It took every shred of self-control he possessed to let her go. He slid away, putting a little space between them, immediately aware of a sense of emptiness, as if a vital piece of himself had been lost.
"This should not have happened," he said. "Forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive. I wanted you, too."
Micah nodded, only half listening to her words. He had mated with Lainey. There might be a child, a child he would never see because he could not stay here.
He sat up then, cradling his head in his hands.
"Micah?" Hurt and confused, Lainey placed her hand on his shoulder. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"My side..." he said, unwilling to burden her with the truth. "It hurts."
Of course it hurt, she thought. What had she been thinking? She glanced at the bandage wrapped around his middle, alarmed to see a dark stain spreading on the gauze. "Lie down. You're bleeding again."
He sank onto the floor and she dragged a furry blanket off the sofa and covered him.
"Wouldn't you be more comfortable on the couch?"
"I'm fine."
"Can I get you anything?"
"No." Pain lanced through him. She had already given him more than he had ever dreamed of.
"Let me get you something cold to drink," Lainey insisted. "You've lost a lot of blood. You need to drink lots of fluids."
He accepted her offer because it was easier than arguing.
Lainey wrapped herself in the sheet Micah had discarded earlier, then hurried into the kitchen. Seven-Up or Coke, she wondered, and grabbing a can of each out of the fridge, she filled a couple of glasses with ice, added the soda, and returned to the living room.
"Which one?" she asked, holding up both glasses.
Micah pointed at the 7Up and she handed him the glass. Thinking it was water, he raised himself on one elbow and took a long swallow. The unexpected effervescence took him by surprise and he began to cough.
Kneeling on the floor beside him, Lainey pounded Micah on the back. "Are you okay?"
He nodded. "Fine," he gasped. "What is that?"
"Seven-Up." She frowned at his perplexed expression. "A soft drink? Carbonated soda pop?"
Micah grunted, then took another, more cautious drink. It was good, cold and refreshing, like the mineral water on Quinton Rells.
"So," Lainey asked softly, "where do we go from here?"
"Go?"
She laughed softly. "What are we going to do about us, about what we feel for each other?"
Micah stared into his glass, watching the tiny bubbles. What were they going to do? What would she say if he told her the truth about who he was, where he'd come from? Would she still look at him like that, her beautiful brown eyes soft with affection? Would she still want him to hold her, kiss her? Or would she turn away in revulsion?
"Micah?"
"I don't know."
"You're not married, are you?"
"No."
"Is there someone waiting for you at home?"
He thought briefly ofAdana , then shook his head. "But sooner or later I must go back."
"Why? Why can't you stay here?"
"I don't belong here."
"Maybe I could go with you?"
"No, that's not possible."
"Oh." She looked away, but not before he saw the hope fade from her eyes.
"Lainey..."
"You should get some rest," Lainey said. Rising, she pulled on her clothes and stepped into her sandals. "I'm going for a walk."
He started to reach for her, then thought better of it. He didn't want to hurt her, to make her think that what they had shared had been - what had she called it, casual sex? - but maybe it was better this way. They had no future together. Once he repaired the intergalactic transmitter, he would be able to send a message relaying his situation and whereabouts and someone from home would come to pick him up and he would never see Lainey St. John again.
The mere idea hurt worse than the nagging pain in his side.