The Pretender (22 page)
Authors: Kathleen Creighton
“Tough—I know. Yes, my love, you are…”
He kissed her. Gently at first. Then he unexpectedly deepened the kiss, and she moaned softly.
She wasn’t tired, anymore, or sore or aching, except for the part of her that ached for
him.
She felt hungry, so hungry, and knew that only he could fill her. She didn’t care if she hurt tomorrow, if her lips might be swollen from his kisses. She had forever to heal.
Forever.
“Bedroom’s
this way,” Sage growled, breaking the kiss. “I was going to show you around, but…”
“If I’m going to live here forever,” she whispered, “we’ll have plenty of time for that.”
“Just so you know what you’re getting.”
“Oh, I know.” She didn’t have the words, yet, or the confidence in her miracle, to tell him she couldn’t have cared less what his house looked like. That she’d live
with him in Sam’s cabin, if he asked her to.
“I’ll be gentle,” he said.
“I know that, too.”
He undressed her, taking his time, then let her do the same for him. When they were naked, facing each other in the moonlit darkness of his bedroom, she slowly reached up and took the fastenings from his hair. He did the same, then drew her close so that their hair flowed together over
their bare skin. He smiled as he murmured, “Black and white…”
Then he laid her carefully down and showed her how gentle he could be, tenderly kissing each bruise and scrape and healing saddle sore, including the ones on her bottom she hadn’t told him about.
He made love to her with his mouth and his hands, and with murmured words that were his own special language, only for her. As
he kissed her body, his hair slithered over her skin, and she wove her fingers through it and lost herself completely in the beauty of it…the warm silk caress of it.
Until she could stand it no more, and tangled her hands in his hair and, whimpering and crying his name, drew him up to her, back to her famished mouth. Her body lay ready and open for him, and she wrapped her arms around him
and drew him in as if she were the one welcoming him home.
He would have held his weight off of her, but she pulled him close and lifted herself to him, and the wonderfulness of the feel of his body in her arms, his weight on her, was almost more than she could bear. A sob shuddered through her from head to toe.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice strained and rough.
“Yes—just
full of…you know.”
“I know.” He kissed her…began to move, deep inside her. And he whispered brokenly, “Teach me now.”
“Teach you…” Gasping…breathless.
“To dance.”
Warmth and laughter and purest joy rose inside her like a giant wave. “It’s…simple. It’s all about…rhythm…and movement.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling down at her. “Like this?”
She moaned. “I think…you’ve
got it.”
Abby fell asleep listening to Sage’s heartbeat, in a state of happiness she could only have imagined…except better, more wonderful than she could ever have imagined. But then, sometime in the night, she dreamed of Pia, dreamed she heard her funny little chirp, always sounding as if she was asking a question. Dreamed she felt her sandpaper tongue, and the weight of her body sitting
squarely in the middle of her chest. And she woke with a feeling of deep loss, and sadness.
She heard Sage’s voice say softly, “Hey…’morning, Sunshine.” She put her arm over her eyes to hide her tears, not wanting him to see her grief when she had so much to be happy about. She heard him laugh, and add, “I know, but I’m probably always going to call you that. I told you—it’s not just a name,
it’s what you are to me.”
She felt his weight on the mattress beside her. And then, incredibly, impossibly, she heard…that funny little chirp.
She sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide open. Sage was sitting on the bed, and in his arms, was…
Pia.
Pia. Looking wild-eyed and scary.
“How— What did you— How did you—” She dashed away tears and simply stared, first at the cat, then
at him.
He shrugged and said gently, “You cried in your sleep, and called her name. So…I got to thinking. And…this morning, early, I took the dogs and went back to the crash site. It was Moonshine who found her—I mean, what’s the point in having a bloodhound if not to find someone who’s lost? Freckles is nursing a scratched nose, though. I’m not sure this
tuugakut
appreciated being rousted
out of her hiding place by a couple of great big dogs.”
“Oh, God, poor Freckles. I’m so sorry.”
“He’ll be okay. He just has to learn, she’s part of the family, now.”
Laughing, crying, Abby reached out to pet her cat, and got a sharp nasty bite for her trouble. She jerked her hand back, cursing the wicked beast, and said plaintively, “Why does she
do
that?”
“Cats learn from
their mothers, their litter mates how to be part of a family. This one’s never had that chance.”
“Maybe that’s why I like her,” Abby said darkly. “She reminds me of me. That’s the way I was, when I was a kid, in the system. Probably why nobody wanted to adopt me.”
“It’s not too late to learn,” Sage said. “For both of you.”
He leaned over to kiss her, and with a questioning chirp,
Pia came pushing between them to lick their faces with her sandpaper tongue.
Epilogue
From the memoirs of Sierra Sam Malone:
I
had sworn off love, after Barbara, though not off women. No…never off women. Of those there was always a plentiful supply, easily available and more than willing to please. Mine for the taking. And I took without conscience or regrets.
When Katherine came to me with a sensible business proposition, I thought it seemed
like a good idea, at the time. Power and prestige, in exchange for the thing that mattered the least to me—money. The funny thing was, we were a good match, Kate and I, and we lasted longer than either of us expected.
But when tragedy struck, we lacked the one thing that might have seen us through the storm. And that was love.
* * * * *
ISBN: 9781459220935
Copyright © 2012 by Kathleen Creighton-Fuchs
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