Born Innocent (6 page)

Oh, Lord. He was so... dangerously beautiful, with his whipcord-lean body and that sinuous way of moving he had. She tried not to stare at the hard muscles of his belly, which seemed to constitute a sort of sexual taunt, clearly displayed as they were between the open plackets of his shirt. Something inside her was shifting, going liquid.

“
How many years,” he was asking too softly as he came toward her, “have I protected you...from me?”

“
Joe?” she asked his name, hoping for reassurance.

She got none. He demanded again, in a voice of velvet and steel, “How many?”

She stared into those eyes that burned her through the darkness, and she had to swallow before managing on a husky sigh, “About twenty.”

He stopped coming toward her only when he stood so close she could feel his breath on her upturned face. She could smell him, the cigarettes and the beer, too, and his sweat. In another man, these things might have repelled her. But not in Joe. Never in Joe. She looked into those strange wolfish eyes and saw pure emptiness, flat deadness. At first. But then she looked harder, and beneath the emptiness, she saw despair.

“
What happened in Mexico?” Somehow, in a hollow whisper, she got the question out.

“
You’re so innocent,” he muttered, and his amber eyes seemed to devour her. “So damned naive, even after all these years.”
“
No.”

“
Yes.”

She shook her head. It seemed very important right then that he see more of her than he was letting himself see. “No. I’m not innocent. I’m not.”

“
Then what?”

She swallowed and tried to explain. “I...try to keep trusting. I try to keep my faith, in the world, and in people. But nobody’s innocent, except on the day that they’re born.”

He made a low, cynical noise in his throat. “You’re innocent,” he said again. “You’re damned naive.”

There was no convincing him. And it wasn’t really important, anyway, she could see now. He’d accused her of naivete to distract her. She was through being distracted. “Think what you want,” she advised in a whisper. “But tell me about Mexico. Tell me, Joe. That boy—”

‘ ‘
You just won’t let it go, will you?”

“
No. Tell me.”

“
Fine.” He gave her the truth then, never taking his eyes from hers. “He’s dead.”

“
Oh, no...” She reached for him.

“
Don’t.” He stepped back.

She dropped her arm. “What happened?”

His broad shoulders seemed to slump. He dropped into the one easy chair in the room, a brown corduroy chair as tattered and worn as the couch. Then, in a weary voice, he gave her the explanation she’d been seeking.

“
He’d skipped his bail to run drugs, and then got in the way of a deal going down. I got there too late to do much good. The kid was gut shot, done for. I held his head in my lap and watched him die. I’ve been sitting in this house since I got back, wondering what the hell point there is to a world where a dumb kid gets murdered just because he’s in the way. In a world like that, there’s no damn room for
innocence. All innocence can do is get you killed.” Joe dropped his head on the backrest and stared at the ceiling.

Claire thought of the dead boy and wondered about the boy’s family. She felt her eyes filling, though she knew that tears wouldn’t help. “Oh, Joe. I’m so sorry.”

He rolled his head enough to capture her gaze. “Yeah. I know. You feel for all the idiots in the world, don’t you, Claire?” He chuckled, a tired, wry sound. “You’re something. Really something.” He lifted his head then. And he stood up once more. He took the few steps to stand before her again.

Claire watched him, sensing another shift in him, but not quite sure what the shift would mean.

“
You’re good,” he said, when he was so close that half a step would have brought their bodies into intimate contact. “A good person, and maybe a strong one, too. A damn special thing.” He raised his hand, then dropped it. “Hell,” he muttered darkly, and she understood his struggle with himself. He was trying not to touch her.

He lost the fight. He raised his hand again and very gently smoothed a strand of her hair back over her shoulder, his rough thumb whispering along her jawline in one achingly tender stroke.

The touch was all it took. The touch showed her everything. It put a cruel mirror up to her sacred, central lie, the lie she’d been faithfully telling herself for six years now.

She looked in the mirror his touch showed her and the lie faded away to mist and she was looking at the hard truth.

She loved Joe Tally. She had never stopped loving Joe Tally. She would always love Joe Tally. Until the day God took her breath for good.

He was watching her, his tawny eyes seeming to see it all. “Tonight, I’m not up to protecting you.”

Her voice seemed to know what to say, though she had no awareness of framing the words. “I know. It doesn’t
matter. I can take care of myself. I’m not as innocent as you keep saying.”

“
Oh, no?”

“
No. You need me. You need a... human touch. A woman’s touch, to get past that dead boy. In the morning, you’ll feel better. And you don’t have to worry. In the morning, I’ll go.”

“
You don’t know what you’re saying.” His voice was ragged. She heard the hope in it—and the raw need.

“
Don’t underestimate me, Joe. I know more than you think.”

“
I have nothing for you. God, Claire. Tonight I don’t even have what it takes to do the one favor I’ve always done you... to send you away.”

“
You couldn’t send me away tonight, anyway. I’m staying.”

He stared at her. “Damn, you, Claire. Go now or—”

“
Shh.” She dared to touch his lips. “It’s okay.”

The touch did it. With a soft oath, he reached for her. She melted against him—and then felt his wince when she touched his shoulder.

She pulled back. “You’re hurt....”

“
Just a flesh wound.”

But she had to see. She carefully guided the open shirt off his shoulders to the floor, and found a clean gauze bandage, which looked white as snow against his tanned skin.

Joe looked at the bandage and then at her. “I swear. It’s okay. The bullet passed right through the meat. I’m taking good care of it.”

“
You’re sure?”

“
Absolutely.” He took her head between his hands and tipped her face up to his. “But are
you
sure?”

“
Yes.”

“
Tonight.” It was a rough vow, spoken sweet and low against her parted lips. “And never again. You’ll go back to your nice, sane life tomorrow morning. We’ll... stay away from each other, from now on. We’ll cut it clean. Agreed?”

She stood on tiptoe, inviting his kiss. He nibbled on her parted lips a little, hungrily. But he insisted again, “Agreed?”

She nodded, as much as she could with her head cupped between his hands. “Agreed.” A single tear escaped the corner of her eye. He caught it as it trickled back toward her hair, brushing it gently with his thumb.

And then, murmuring some dark, hot promise, he covered her lips with his own.

The shock of knowing his mouth after all the years of yearning and denial held Claire utterly still for a moment.

She moaned in hungry joy and lifted her arms to clasp him as close as he was holding her. She ran her greedy hands all over his bare skin, feeling the hard beauty of lean muscle and the shape of the long bones beneath, cautious only of the bandage at his shoulder.

And as she touched him, he was touching her, burning her with his rough and tender hands, making urgent sounds, sounds of need and promise at the same time. He felt along her neck and down to the buttons of her shirt, fumbling with them, parting them, and pushing the shirt away to the floor to join his own.

He sighed and clasped her bare waist, as if learning the slim shape of it. She moaned in pleasure as his hand traveled up to cup the fullness of her breast, which was still bound by her bra.

He stood back from her, just a little, so he could work the front clasp. It came undone and fell away. He caressed her naked breasts, groaning a little, as she was, in discovery and delight. He held them, lifted them, and looked into her eyes. Then, slowly, he lowered his head.

She clutched him close as his mouth found her nipple and he sucked on it, bringing it to a peak of sweet sensitivity, then moving to the other one.

Claire let her head fall back, and felt his arm behind her waist, supporting her. She was glad for the support. If he hadn’t provided it, she would have slid in boneless delight to the bare floor at their feet. He went on kissing her breasts for the sweetest eternity, and as he did, he worked at the fastening of her jeans, unsnapping and unzipping and then sliding the jeans down, along with her panties, to the floor at her feet. She kicked off her sneakers to aid him.

Then, feeling the cool air of the room touching her everywhere he wasn’t, Claire realized she was naked. Naked in Joe Tally’s arms. It was her oldest, most forbidden fantasy.

And for this one night of all nights, it was real.

She gasped as he slid his arm beneath her knees and lifted her up against his chest. But then she realized what he was doing, because he sat down with her across his lap in the big brown easy chair.

He kissed her mouth again for a long, sweet time. She reveled in it, feeling his desire for her, hard and ready, through the rough fabric of his jeans. He guided her head to his uninjured shoulder and his hand slid lower, to stroke down her belly to the place that was already wet and waiting for him.

Claire gasped and moaned. His fingers played gently at her entrance.

He whispered low and hoarse against her ear, “You
have
been with a man before, haven’t you?”

She bit her lip, trying not to cry out at the pleasure his teasing fingers were giving. “There was a man. In college.” She didn’t tell him the rest—that it had been after the first time Joe had sent her away. She’d tried loving someone else. But it had been doomed from the beginning. Eventually, the man had realized her heart belonged to someone else. He’d been hurt, and Claire had been ashamed of herself.

“
And it was... all right?” Joe asked as his fingers, light as butterfly wings, continued their sweet, teasing play.

It took her pleasured mind a moment to make sense of his question; he was asking if she had any problems with sex. “It was... fine, Joe.”

“
Good.” His finger slid into her then. She gasped.

He began stroking her in earnest, and she felt her body instantly rising, readying itself for the high climb to the edge of ecstasy. “Oh, Joe,” she sighed, and then moaned out loud.

He murmured yes, stroking faster. Her body responded, lost to anything but the command of his hand upon her.

She soared up and over the edge, crying out in blissful triumph. And then she went slack, cradled there in his lap.

For a time she just lay there, naked across him in the big brown chair. She rubbed her head against his chest, and sighed a little, and he lazily stroked her sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead. She gave a low chuckle.

“
What’s so funny?”

She sighed. “I was just thinking. I came here to comfort you, and it turns out you’re the one who’s giving the.. .strokes.”.

He laughed then, a rumbling sound against her ear. “You’ll get your chance. Very soon.”

“
Good.” She cuddled against him some more. “Joe?”

“
Um?”

She sat up a little, smiling knowingly when he winced; he was still very ready to go on with their loving. “I know you
probably won’t believe this, given the way I’ve always chased after you...”

He rolled his eyes a little and gave a short laugh but didn’t say anything.

She went on. “But I really didn’t expect... this to happen tonight. I, um, I’m not using anything. I mean, the pill, or anything...” She took in a bracing breath, and continued, “It should be my safe time, but, well...”

He was stroking her hair, his eyes soft and deep, as she’d never seen them before—and probably, she realized sadly, as she would never see them again. “I should have some condoms around here somewhere. Don’t worry. We’ll be careful.”

She released the breath she’d taken. “Good.”

He took her face in his hands again, and kissed her lips with soft, tender promise. Then he said, “Come on. We’ll find them. And we’ll put some fresh sheets on my bed. And I’ll take a shower—” he glanced at his injured shoulder “—carefully.”

He scooped her against his chest as he had earlier and stood up. This time she saw his slight wince when his hurt shoulder took half her weight. But before she could order him to put her down, he did it without coaxing, lowering her legs so she could stand.