not quite as multi–hued as I was a few days ago."
"And you aren’t having any trouble walking or breathing?" she pressed, still concerned that he might try to protect her from the truth.
"No,
Doctor
Hamilton," he teased. "No trouble at all on either score."
"David, this is important. Those men could have caused you severe internal damage of some kind."
"My ego and my pride took the brunt of the beating."
"I know," she murmured. "I just worry about you, and since I can’t see for myself that you’re alright, I wind up asking you a lot of boring questions that drive you nuts."
David hesitated for a moment. "My turn to ask a question."
"Go ahead."
"What would you say if I told you that I want to make love to you?"
"You do… every single time you touch me," she said.
"It does feel that way most of the time, doesn’t it?"
"Yes."
"I want more, Emma. So much more."
"Me, too."
"You’re all I think about."
She teased, "When you’re not dreaming of rare steaks, hot showers, and a firm mattress?"
His voice, part gravel and part groan, seemed to grown more intense. "You really think about me that way?"
"Constantly."
He admitted, "I didn’t realize…"
"How could you not?"
"You seem reluctant to talk about it."
She sighed, the sound as soft as an intimate caress. "Only because I’m afraid we won’t ever have a chance to… to make love."
"Why?"
She stared at the iron bars of her cell. "That’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?"
"That’s not what I meant. Why do you want to make love with me?"
"Because I care about you, and I want you." Because I’m falling in love with you, she wanted to say, but she managed to bite back the words. He’d think she was insane.
"Have you ever been in love?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"Once, or so I thought. Now, I know it was nothing more than an infatuation."
"When did it end?"
"A few years ago. He wasn’t willing to understand that I needed more than our time together to feel complete as a person."
"Sounds selfish."
She nodded. "Yes, he was."
"Was he the same guy who accused you of not having time for a real life?"
"Good memory," she remarked. "He made that comment while he was packing his things and moving out of our apartment. At the time I was devastated, especially since I’d already given up so much of my work with Child Feed in order to spend more time with him. He didn’t think I’d cut back far enough. I guess he assumed that I should have been satisfied to devote my entire existence to him. When I refused, he walked out."
"The cretin did you a favor," David muttered.
Emma smiled; he was right. "I realize that now, but I certainly didn’t when it all happened. I spent way too much time licking my wounds and feeling inadequate as a woman. The experience also made me pretty gun–shy with other men. I’ve avoided getting entangled with anyone else since then."
He slipped his fingers free and trailed the tips across the back of her hand before bringing them to rest against the delicate inner curve of her wrist. "What do I make you feel?" he asked after absorbing the jump of her pulse.
She felt seduced anew by the rough sensuality of his voice. "Everything. I don’t even know where to start."
He remained silent for a moment. "What did you mean when you said I was a part of you?"
Surprised by his question, Emma considered her reply. In the end, she concluded that their situation was too uncertain for her not to be candid with him.
"When the guards took you away," Emma began, "I was terrified I’d never see you again. That’s when I realized how connected I felt to you. You’re in my heart," she whispered as his hand closed over her narrow wrist. "You, David Winslow, are now a permanent part of me."
"Maybe you're just suffering from some bizarre version of Stockholm syndrome. Has it occurred to you that you might not want any reminders, and that includes me, of this place once we make it home?"
"That’s absurd," she protested. "You’re not
"And you aren’t having any trouble walking or breathing?" she pressed, still concerned that he might try to protect her from the truth.
"No,
Doctor
Hamilton," he teased. "No trouble at all on either score."
"David, this is important. Those men could have caused you severe internal damage of some kind."
"My ego and my pride took the brunt of the beating."
"I know," she murmured. "I just worry about you, and since I can’t see for myself that you’re alright, I wind up asking you a lot of boring questions that drive you nuts."
David hesitated for a moment. "My turn to ask a question."
"Go ahead."
"What would you say if I told you that I want to make love to you?"
"You do… every single time you touch me," she said.
"It does feel that way most of the time, doesn’t it?"
"Yes."
"I want more, Emma. So much more."
"Me, too."
"You’re all I think about."
She teased, "When you’re not dreaming of rare steaks, hot showers, and a firm mattress?"
His voice, part gravel and part groan, seemed to grown more intense. "You really think about me that way?"
"Constantly."
He admitted, "I didn’t realize…"
"How could you not?"
"You seem reluctant to talk about it."
She sighed, the sound as soft as an intimate caress. "Only because I’m afraid we won’t ever have a chance to… to make love."
"Why?"
She stared at the iron bars of her cell. "That’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?"
"That’s not what I meant. Why do you want to make love with me?"
"Because I care about you, and I want you." Because I’m falling in love with you, she wanted to say, but she managed to bite back the words. He’d think she was insane.
"Have you ever been in love?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"Once, or so I thought. Now, I know it was nothing more than an infatuation."
"When did it end?"
"A few years ago. He wasn’t willing to understand that I needed more than our time together to feel complete as a person."
"Sounds selfish."
She nodded. "Yes, he was."
"Was he the same guy who accused you of not having time for a real life?"
"Good memory," she remarked. "He made that comment while he was packing his things and moving out of our apartment. At the time I was devastated, especially since I’d already given up so much of my work with Child Feed in order to spend more time with him. He didn’t think I’d cut back far enough. I guess he assumed that I should have been satisfied to devote my entire existence to him. When I refused, he walked out."
"The cretin did you a favor," David muttered.
Emma smiled; he was right. "I realize that now, but I certainly didn’t when it all happened. I spent way too much time licking my wounds and feeling inadequate as a woman. The experience also made me pretty gun–shy with other men. I’ve avoided getting entangled with anyone else since then."
He slipped his fingers free and trailed the tips across the back of her hand before bringing them to rest against the delicate inner curve of her wrist. "What do I make you feel?" he asked after absorbing the jump of her pulse.
She felt seduced anew by the rough sensuality of his voice. "Everything. I don’t even know where to start."
He remained silent for a moment. "What did you mean when you said I was a part of you?"
Surprised by his question, Emma considered her reply. In the end, she concluded that their situation was too uncertain for her not to be candid with him.
"When the guards took you away," Emma began, "I was terrified I’d never see you again. That’s when I realized how connected I felt to you. You’re in my heart," she whispered as his hand closed over her narrow wrist. "You, David Winslow, are now a permanent part of me."
"Maybe you're just suffering from some bizarre version of Stockholm syndrome. Has it occurred to you that you might not want any reminders, and that includes me, of this place once we make it home?"
"That’s absurd," she protested. "You’re not
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