Breath of Scandal(141)
"I would never hurt you," he said as he eased himself out of his chair and onto the sofa beside her. "Never." "I believe that."
He placed his arms around her and leaned back, carrying her with him until they were settled against the cushions of the sofa. The intimacy of the position alarmed her. She clutched his biceps. "It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay. I'll let you go anytime you say. Do you want me to? Tell me."
After a tense hesitation, she shook her head and relaxed against him. Apparently the brevity of his tank top didn't offend her. She laid her head on his chest. Her hair slid across his skin, causing him almost to groan out loud with pleasure. Her hand remained trustingly on his arm.
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"Jade?" "Hmm?" "Since that night, you've been unable to make love?"
"Unable and unwilling." "Unwilling to even try?" "I have tried. With Hank."
"Hank Arnett?" Jealousy StUng him.
"He was in love with me, I knew it, but didn't want him to be. I didn't want to hurt him, either. I kept telling him it was no use, that I couldn't change. I urged him not to place false hopes in my recovery. Hank's got a real stubborn streak. He wouldn't listen."
"Obviously he was finally convinced."
"Not for years. I wanted to return his affection, so I started seeing a psychologist. Eventually I was able to kiss him without freaking."
"Did you enjoy kissing him?" "As much as I'm able to."
Dillon's jealousy was somewhat mollified. She hadn't qualified it when she had told him she liked his kisses. "About that time, Mitch died," she continued. "Lamar
showed up at his funeral. Seeing him again brought back all the horror. I finally told Hank that I couldn't have a sexual relationship with any man. It was impossible.- "Did you tell him why?"
"No. And because I didn't, he got angry and stayed away for months. One day he came back, and we've been good friends ever since. He finally accepted it."
Dillon didn't want to champion Hank's cause by saying that he was a swell fellow and that she should have given him more of a chance. Hank was in New York; Dillon was here with her, holding her.
"Why did you tell me about the rape, Jade?" When she raised her head and looked at him, he knew he had no reason to feel jealous of Hank or anybody else.
"You wouldn't accept the way I am without an explanation. "
"And?"
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"And because . . . because it was important to me that you understand why I am the way I am."
To keep from kissing her, he tucked her head beneath his chin. "What happened to you was a crime. It was spiteful, and mean, and violent. It had nothing to do with sex. ,11 know that, Dillon."
"Sexual intimacy between two people who care about each other-"
I I Is something altogether different," she stated, finishing his sentence for him. "Don't you think the psychologist reiterated that until I was sick to death of hearing it? No, I didn't subliminally blame myself. Yes, I was as angry with the sexist legal system as I was with the men. No, I do not believe that all men are barbarians. No, I do not feet any leanings toward lesbianism. No, I do not want to see all men castrated - "
"That's a relief."
She tilted her head up again, and, when they made eye contact, she began to laugh. He joined in. They laughed for several minutes, and it was cathartic, because neither could cry. Their laughter made them weak. They clung to each other for support.
Then they seemed to stop laughing at precisely the same instant. One second, they were rollicking with it. The next, they were staring deeply into each other's eyes, breathless and tense.
Dillon's chest felt tight. His eyes dropped to her mouth. He watched her lips move. "Dillon?"
He closed his eyes quickly. "Christ, I want to kiss you. I want to make love to you for the first time in your life. I want to show you what it really is, what it can be. I want you to make love to me."
When he reopened his eyes, hers were startled, her lips tremulous. He was tempted to lift her mouth against his and find out why she was gazing at him with that particular expression. He hoped it was because he had aroused hernot repelled her.
He stroked her hair. He longed to soothe away the timorous quavering of her lips with soft kisses and massage
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the worry line from between her brows. He wanted the catchiness in her breath to come from passion, not apprehension. He wanted to give her the gift of sexual discovery, of which she'd been robbed.
But if he didn't do it right, it was liable to be irreversibly damaging. So he eased her away from him, stood up, then helped her to her feet. Ruefully he said, "Some other time.
The house was dark. Dillon, who had insisted on following her home, didn't drive away until she was safely inside. Cathy had left her a note on the kitchen table explaining that she had gone to bed early with a headache. There was a casserole in the refrigerator, the note said. All Jade had to do was warm it up in the microwave. She decided she wasn't hungry enough to bother. After securing the house for the night, she went upstairs.