Page 24 of Casualties of War
Smooth softness under his fingers and silk sliding over the back of them. He’d pushed his hand under her hair, to hold her face.
She gaspedagainst his lips. It was a soft sound.
And she leaned.
It was the smallest of motions but it was there. It shouted volumes.
Adán drew her off the stool and up against him.
The kiss deepened. It was heavenly. His body grew languid and heavy with a wanting more powerful than he’d ever experienced. This wanting had been years in the making.
He grew aware that he had pressed her up against thebar when she pushed against his chest.
“No,” she breathed into his mouth.
Adán tore himself away from her. Two staggering steps, then he made himself turn back to face her. His heart slammed against his chest. He was dizzy.
Parris bent, clutching the bar with white knuckles, her hair streaming to hide her face. She looked as though she would be sick.
“Goddamn it!” she cried in English. Itwas almost a scream.
It occurred to him that he should apologize. It wouldn’t fix things, though. Nothing would. Bitterness touched him. “This changes things…” He stuck with English. It felt safer using English, that anyone might overhear.
She flexed, standing upright in a balletic movement that spoke of her strength. She pushed her hair back. Her face was wet with tears. “Itruinsthings. Damnit, Adán, how could you?”
He drew in a deep breath. “We’ve known each other for four years,” he said. “In all that time you’ve never lied, until just now.”
Her gaze shifted away. She picked up a glass of champagne—his, hers, it didn’t matter—and finished it in two big swallows.
“You wanted it, too.”
Parris put her face in her hands, leaning against the bar. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, hervoice hoarse and muffled. “None of it matters, because I’m married and this will never happen again.”
His heart squeezed. “Of course it won’t,” he said quickly.
“It won’t, because I won’t see you again.” She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, in rough, quick movements.
Fear touched him. “You don’t have to stay away.”
Her gaze met his. “Yes. I do,” she said. “I figuredeveryone who warned me was wrong. I thought a man and a woman could be friends and nothing more. I wanted to believe it. But…” She licked her lips. “But I’m just lying to myself and that means I’m lying to you and to Stuart. It has to stop, don’t you see? I wanted to kiss you, too. More than that.”
Adán sank onto the nearest bench. He was shaking, which told him how deep this ran. Fear was sliveringhis nerves with sharp, silvered tines. “Telling you…swearingto you it will never happen again—it won’t be enough, will it?”
Parris’ smile was grim and small. “If you swore it, I would believe you. I trust you, Adán. It’s me I don’t trust and I only figured it out right now.”
He gripped his hands together. “I would refuse you, if you tried.”
She shook her head. “We can’t be friends anymore,Adán. I don’t think we’ve really been friends for a while now. It’s been something more than that and I can’t let us go there. Iwon’t.” She pushed herself off the bar.
She was leaving.
Adán hung his head, the depth of the disaster registering. He couldn’t breathe.
“Adán,” she whispered.
He made himself look up. Parris was standing right in front of him. He squeezed his hands together, fightingthe need to touch her, to hold her there.
It was a measure of the size of the problem he had unleashed. He could barely contain himself. He wanted her with a power that thrummed like live current.
