The tears were no longer silent. They poured out in hard, racking sobs as she clung to him. He said nothing, had nothing to say. The woman who had knocked him flat with a right hook he understood. The one who clawed and spit and fought he knew how to handle. This one, this soft, weeping bundle in his arms, was a mystery. Defenseless, heartbroken, fragile.
And he fell in love with this Sunny, as well.
She clung to him, hating herself. She wanted to strike out, to make him pay for breaking her heart, but she could only hold on, taking the comfort he offered.
Carefully he rose with her in his arms. He needed to soothe, to protect, to love. He wanted to stroke her until her tears dried, hold her until her body calmed again. Most of all he wanted to show her that of all the things he’d done falling in love with her was the most important.
She couldn’t stop, though she despised every tear. She couldn’t fight him now, at her weakest point. Now she could only hold on to him, let the storm rage and find some small comfort in the gentle way he held her.
He took her into his cabin, where the light was dim. The bed was water-soft, covered with pale blue sheets. The walls were blue, as well. A quiet, restful color. Still holding her, he lay with her on the bed while her tears dampened his cheek.
When her sobs began to lessen, he trailed his lips down her temple to her mouth. Her lips were wet, and they were still trembling. As his touched them, she pulled away to roll onto her side.
“Sunny.” Feeling awkward, he touched her shoulder. “Please, talk to me.”
She didn’t bother to jerk his hand away. She just stared at the pale blue wall. “I feel like such a fool. Crying over you.”
He didn’t know if any woman had ever done that before. Certainly none had ever cried in his arms. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Being lied to always hurts.”
“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you the truth.” He could see the logic of it, needed to. But he doubted she could. “I was going to tell you everything today.”
She nearly laughed. “Do they still use that old chestnut in the twenty-third century?” She had said it out loud. The twenty-third century. And she was in what could only be called a spaceship with a man who wouldn’t be born until she was long dead. She’d have preferred to believe it was all a dream, but the pain was too real.
“I came for my brother,” he told her. “I never planned to become involved with you, to fall in love with you. It happened too fast.”
“I was there, remember?”
“Look at me.”
She shook her head. “Let’s just forget it, J.T. A man like you probably thinks he’s entitled to have a woman in every century.”
“I said look at me.” Patience gone, he pulled her back, holding her by the shoulders so that she was forced to meet his eyes. “I love you.”
The words seeped into her and weakened her resolve. Her only defense was heat. “Apparently the definition of love has changed. Don’t lose any sleep over it. I’ll be fine.”
“Will you listen to me?”
“It doesn’t matter what you say.”
“Then it won’t hurt to listen.”
She shook her head fiercely. Now that the tears were over, she was ready to lash out again. “You never intended to stay with me, to build a life with me. It was just a temporary arrangement for you. But I can’t blame you for that. You never promised, you only implied. And you never used the old candlelight-and-wine routine to romance stars into my eyes.”
But the stars had been there, she thought. She’d been blinded by them. “In any case, I’m responsible for my own feelings. But I can blame you, and I can detest you, for not being honest.”
“It was too complicated. I didn’t know how you would react.”
“I thought scientists were supposed to experiment. You are a scientist, aren’t you?”
“Yes. All right. The fact is, I just didn’t want to think about anything but you when I was with you.” When she struggled to turn away again, he held her still. “You wanted honesty, so listen to it. Whatever I did, it was because I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to stop myself. If that was wrong, it was because I stopped thinking with my head. If I handled it badly, it was because I didn’t know how to approach you here, now. I didn’t feel I could tell you about all of this. And then I was falling in love and didn’t know how to deal with it. Didn’t know how you would expect me to.”
Frustrated, he stroked her cheek. “Sunny, I didn’t think it was possible to tell you the truth. And I didn’t know how . . .” He stopped, swore. “If it had been possible, I would have shown you more romance, but I didn’t have a gift for you.”
“A gift?” She’d really believed she was too weary to become annoyed again. She’d been wrong. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Romance,” he repeated, more than a little embarrassed. “Attention, flattery, the giving of gifts.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Romance? Is that your superior species’ definition of romance?” She pushed his hands away. “Idiot. Romance has nothing to do with presents or flattery. It has to do with caring and compassion, with sharing your hopes and your dreams. It means being honest.”
“This is honest.”
He lowered his mouth to hers. She prepared to resist, to hold him off with icy disdain. But for the first time his mouth wasn’t hungry, it wasn’t passionate, it wasn’t desperate. It was, instead, infinitely tender. The beauty of it shimmered through her like liquid sunlight. Her defensive front of disinterest melted away like snow in the spring.
He looked at her. Was there confusion in his eyes? she wondered. It couldn’t matter, she told herself. She couldn’t allow herself to care so much a second time. But he laid a soothing hand on her cheek and touched his lips experimentally to hers.
He hadn’t known being gentle could be so weakening. Or so fulfilling. There had always been power when he’d touched her. Bolts of power. Now there was only warmth, a quiet river of it, running through him. He wanted to share it with her, to show her how precious she was and would always be.
“I love you,” he murmured. When she tried to shake her head, he only repeated the words again and again as his mouth whispered over hers.
She couldn’t fight him like this. Not when the fog had rolled in over her brain and her body was sinking in some thick, syrupy darkness. Her breath shook as she tried to say his name. He covered her trembling lips with his own. Patient, so patient, as hers warmed and moved beneath his.
Time, he thought as he slowly deepened the kiss. They would take all they needed. And when the time had ended she would know that he would never love again as he had loved her.
He undressed her. Though his fingers shook from the pull of his own emotions, they didn’t hurry. Button by button he loosened her shirt, pressing his lips lightly to each new opening. Softly, sweetly, he trailed his fingers over her flesh, parting the material.
There was no greed now, only an aching, bittersweet tenderness.
Surrendering, she eased his sweater up over his shoulders so that she could feel the warmth of his skin against hers. If she only had today, she would forget all the yesterdays, all the tomorrows. As his mouth met hers again, it was as though it were the first time they had kissed. The first time they had loved.
This she would remember. The heady flavor of his lips, those quiet, lovely words he spoke against her mouth. Not promises. There could be no promises. But there was the depthless green of his eyes to drown in. There was the impossible gentleness of his hands to be lost in.
He slipped her jeans over her hips, following the route with his mouth, down her thigh, over her knee and her calf. In the dim, silent room, there was no day or night. And a heart so filled with love could not break.
She enchanted him, until he believed they would always be here together, alone, with only the soft sigh of the bed shifting, yielding beneath the pressure of their bodies. Alone, with only the soothing stroke of her fingers over his skin. With only her drifting, tenuous scent swimming in his brain.
And the love he felt pulsed through his blood, seeped into his bones, until he knew he would never be free of it. There was joy in that. She would be with him, despite all distances.
