Everything but the marriage (13 page)

"Yes, he is." Kelly glanced at her brother, her dark eyes questioning, but Devlin could only shrug. That something was very wrong was obvious, but he didn't know what it was any more than she did.

After a moment, Annalise handed the baby back to his mother, her hands dropping immediately to her sides, her fingers curling into her palms.

"He's wonderful," she told Kelly, her bright smile at odds with the tears she didn't seem to realize were trickling down her cheeks.

"Thank you," Kelly said. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." Annalise looked around as if she weren't quite sure where she was. "I... excuse me. I have to.. .excuse me."

She all but ran from the room, darting through the kitchen and out the back door, the screen slamming behind her. As if it were a cue, thunder rumbled, the sound closer now. A cool breeze skipped through the back door, stirring the papers on the kitchen table, sending them drifting to the floor.

Chapter 8

''What

was that all about?"

Devlin dragged his gaze from the back door to his sister's bewildered face.

**I don't know," he said slowly. And it was none of his business, he reminded himself. He was trying to put distance between himself and Annalise, not get even more deeply involved. But her pain had been so vivid.

"You probably ought to get on the road before the rain really gets started." He reached out to give his nephew an absent nudge on the chin.

"And maybe you should see what's wrong with Annalise."

"Maybe." He was going to let her work this out without him, he reminded himself.

"And don't think I don't still have a million questions about her," Kelly added, gathering up Clay's diaper bag on the way to the door.

"Fine." Etevlin's gaze drifted to the back door.

He saw his sister off, watching her car until it turned onto the main road. The rain started as he headed back into the house. He stood in the middle of the living room, reminding himself that he didn't want to get any more involved in Annalise St. John's problems.

She was far from suicidal now. Whatever had set her off, it wasn't his problem. She probably wouldn't even welcome his concern.

He went into the kitchen and began to pick up the receipts that had landed on the floor, setting them on the table and putting the account book on top of them. Outside, the rain was increasing in intensity.

Annalise hadn't been wearing anything remotely suited to a rainstorm. She'd be soaked to the skin in minutes. Staring out at the rain, he remembered the night he'd first seen her, standing on the riverbank, her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world rested on them. She was still so vulnerable.

Cursing, he strode across the kitchen and slammed out the back door. He was just going to make sure she was all right, he told himself. She was sort of his responsibility, wasn't she? He'd make sure she was all right, and then he was going to take a nice hot shower and let her deal with her own problems.

It wasn't a hard rain, but it was a steady downpour that soaked everything it touched almost immedi-

ately. Devlin's light shirt was drenched before he was halfway across the backyard.

Annalise wasn't hard to find. The pink of her T-shirt stood out like a beacon through the falling rain. She was standing at the bottom of the long yard, staring down at the river.

Devlin felt fear cut off his breathing. His long stride lengthened into a sprint. What if he'd been wrong in thinking she wouldn't kill herself? What if she jumped into the river before he reached her?

He slowed as he neared her, feeling his heart start to beat again. She was well back from the bank. She had her arms crossed around her waist and her shoulders were hunched as if her pain were an actual physical burden. But she didn't look as though she'd been contemplating drowning her sorrows.

Adrenaline still surged in him as he stopped beside her. At first he thought she was so wrapped in sorrow that she wasn't even aware of his presence. But then she turned her head to look at him, her tears mingling with the rain.

"It hurts," she said quietly.

The simple, almost childlike statement sent a shaft of pain through Devlin's heart. Acting on instinct, he reached out, putting his arms around her and drawing her to him.

"I know." And he did know. Not what had caused her pain specifically, but he knew what it was to hurt so much the pain was almost unbearable.

Turning, Annalise leaned against him like a tired child, her cheek resting against his wet shirt, her hands settling on his hips.

"It hurts so much. Sometimes, I feel as if Tm dead inside, as if all that's left of me is the pain.'*

Her words sliced into him, making him feel her pain as his own. With both hands he cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up until her eyes met his.

"You're not dead, Annalise. And the pain gets easier to bear."

There was no hghtening of the darkness in her eyes. "Make it go away, Devlin. Make it stop hurting." Her lower lip trembled and Devlin's heart broke into a thousand pieces.

Hardly conscious of what he was doing, wanting only to ease her hurt, even if it meant taking the hurt and making it his, he lowered his mouth to hers.

He intended the kiss as comfort. He intended it to show her that she wasn't alone. He wanted to make her see that she was alive, that she could feel more than the emptiness and disillusion.

But whatever his intentions had been, they were scattered to the winds by her response. Her arms came up to circle his neck, her body arching against his. He'd offered a way for her to forget the pain, if only temporarily, and she was grabbing at it with both hands.

Despite the kiss they'd already shared, Devlin was caught off balance by the way passion seemed to almost literally explode between them. In the space of a heartbeat, everything was forgotten but the feel of Annalise in his arms, the taste of her on his lips.

He caught her closer, his mouth slanting hungrily across hers. Her response was every bit as urgent. Her

fingers curled into the damp thickness of his hair, dragging him closer still.

Tliere was no time to think. No time to wonder if this was the right thing. No time to draw back. The only thing possible was to feel her with every fiber of his being.

The rain had soaked their clothes, plastering the fabric to their skin. Devlin's hands slid down to cup Annalise's hips, lifting her off her feet as he pulled her against his thighs. She whimpered low in her throat as she felt his need pressed against her. She arched into him, making him curse the fact that they were still dressed.

He started to ease her back down to her feet, in-tiding to take her into the house. But she had no intention of letting him go, even for that long. Her legs parted and came up to circle his lean hips, even as her arms tightened around his neck.

Devlin groaned, his hands shifting automatically to support her. The only way they could have been more intimately entwined was if they'd been naked. He could feel the heart of her pressed against the aching bulge of him. In that instant, he'd have given a year of his life to have their clothing vanish, to be able to slide himself into her.

He started up to the house, Annalise wrapped around him like the most sensuous of blankets. By the time he pulled open the screen door, the blood was pounding in his temples. If the roof had collapsed at that moment, it wouldn't have made him slow his pace. He had to have her. Whether it was in his bed or

standing in the middle of a rainstorm or on the floor, he had to have her or go mad.

He was no longer concerned with keeping his distance—it was too late for that. And he didn't care that he might be getting too involved. His involvement was already too deep. All that mattered at this moment was easing the burning ache in his loins.

He stopped next to his bed, easing Annalise to the floor. She would have protested, but he was already stripping her T-shirt over her head. When he fumbled with the front clasp of her bra, she disposed of it herself, tossing the garment into a comer.

Devlin's hands came up, cupping the sweet dampness of her breasts, feeling the nipples hard and taut against his palms. He wanted to taste th^n, wanting to Uck the rain from them. But Annalise's hands were already unzipping her jeans, stripping them down off her hips and then reaching for his.

"Hurry," she whispered. When the buttons defeated her shaking fingers, she cupped her hand over him, drawing a guttural groan from him.

"Hurry," she said again.

Devhn's fingers worked the buttons of his jeans. He shoved them down, releasing the heavy length of his manhood. Annalise's fingers closed around him and he thought he'd surely explode.

"You're going to kill me," he said, only half-joking. His hands closed over her wrist, drawing her away.

He eased her back onto the bed, following her down. His hands stroked the length of her sides, savoring the silken feel of her skin. But Annalise twisted

boieath him, opening her l^s, her ankles coming up to press against his hips.

Devlin groaned and fought the urge to take her invitation. This wasn't how he wanted their first time to be. He wanted to slow the pace, savor every minute.

"We've got all the time in the world," he whispered.

She stared up at him, her eyes dark with need and some emotion he was too dazed to put a name to. She shook her head, scattering her damp hair across the covers.

"Now, Devlin. Please, now."

"Annalise... ah, sweetheart." She'd reached between than and closed her hand over the swollen length of him, drawing him forward until he rested against her dampness.

"Now," she whispered fiercely, her hips arching as if to force him to take her.

Devlin's control shattered into a million pieces. With a soft curse that was ahnost a prayer, he slid his burning length into her. She gasped as her body stretched to accommodate his.

She fit him as if made for him alone. Her softness surrounded him, changing what had been near pain to a painfully intense pleasure. Devlin pressed his forehead to the pillow beside her head, struggling for some shred of control.

Despite her eagerness, she hadn't beoi quite ready for him. He'd felt it in the sharp gasp, in the tightness of the flesh that sheathed him. He wanted to onpty himself in her, to feel an easing of the ache that had gnawed at him for weeks. But he wanted her to feel

that same pleasure. It was a journey much sweeter if they made it together.

But Annalise wasn't interested in him taking his time. She wanted only to rush headlong into the sweet oblivion she could feel just out of reach. Only that would take away her pain, ease the feeling that she'd never be wholly alive again. She arched her hips into his, drawing her legs up to circle his waist so that she took him even deeper.

"Don't." Devlin lifted himself on his arms, his fingers knotted over the blankets as he struggled for control. "Slow down, sweetheart."

"I don't want to slow down," she whispered, her hips arching again as her fingers trailed down the length of his spine. "Please, Devlin. Please."

She lifted her head to plant soft kisses across his chest. Her mouth found the flat nub of his nipple and her tongue came out to taste it. Devlin shuddered, feeling his fragile control dissolving like mist before a hot sun. Her teeth scored him lightly and he surrendered with a groan.

His hips rose and fell, feeling her flesh enfold him in the sweetest of embraces. Through the pounding in his temples, he knew that something wasn't right. She was rushing him along, her hands and legs holding him, dragging him headlong into the madness. But somewhere he'd lost her and it was too late to stop now.

He arched against her, grinding his teeth together against a pleasure so intense it must surely approach death. But the intensity of his release was clouded by the knowledge that he'd reached it alone.

He lowered his head to the pillow beside her, his breath shuddering in and out of him. He felt her legs drop to the bed, releasing him from their sweet prison. As his mind slowly cleared, he was aware that a deep anger was rolling in to fill the spaces temporarily emptied of need.

He was angry with Annalise for rushing their love-making, for refusing to let him take the time to make sure she was with him all the way. Most of all he was furious with himself for letting her do it.

Devlin rolled away from her, sensing the slight discomfort his withdrawal caused her. It only added to his anger.

They lay there without speaking, the room completely silent but for the steady patter of the rain. It was left to Annalise to break the silence. With an inaudible excuse, she started to get off the bed.

Devlin's hand caught her before she'd managed to sit up, pushing her implacably back against the pillow. He loomed over her, his shoulders blocking out her view of the room, leaving her with nothing to look at but his angry gray eyes.

"You want to tell me what the hell that was all about?" he demanded fiercely.

Annalise closed her eyes, but she couldn't shut out the knowledge that he had a right to be upset. She'd used him to try to blot out the pain.

**rm sorry," she whispered.

"Sorry?" Illogically his anger immediately darted away from her, centering solely on what he saw as his own monumental failure. "You're sorry because I

acted like a randy sixteen-year-old?" He released her, rolling away to sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders taut.

"I pushed you," she said, sitting up. She tugged the sheet up over her breasts. "I had no right to use you like that."

"Use me?" Devlin turned to face her, drawing one knee up on the bed. ''You used me?''

* * Yes.'' She lowered her eyes.

Devlin sighed, feeling all his anger drain away. "You didn't use me, Annalise. Fve been aching to make love to you practically from the moment I saw you. But this isn't exactly how I'd have liked it to go."

"It's all right." She reached out to touch his arm, withdrawing her fingers quickly.

"No, it isn't. I wanted you with me."

"With you? I was with you." She blinked at him, confused.