"I suffered every day of my life. I remember feeling very little except pain."
"Other people's pain."
She nodded. "I'm fine, Sam. Really I am."
"You didn't have to take away Matthew's pain."
"Yes, I did." She caressed his cheek. "How could I look at him and not want to help him?" Jeannie sighed. "His mother understood that I couldn't heal him. She knows his pain will return."
Jeannie tried to stand. Sam picked up her cane and handed it to her. Bracing the tip of the walking stick on the floor, Jeannie lifted herself to her feet. Sam stood up beside her. The moment Jeannie took her first step, her knees gave way. Crying out, she grabbed for Sam. He swooped her up in his arms.
"I can't walk," she said. "I suppose it's because I felt all Matthew's arthritic pain in my legs, and they're already weak."
Sam carried Jeannie outside, hoping he could take her away before any reporters or curiosity seekers arrived. Only the minister and three church members remained inside the building, and outside one lone reporter and his photographer waited. Tory Gaines watched from afar, then started to approach them. Sam glared at the man.
"You come near her, Gaines, and you're a dead man." Sam didn't pause.
Tory Gaines stopped where he stood, not moving a muscle as he watched Sam carry Jeannie to her Lexus.
Traffic wasn't terribly heavy, so Sam drove them home in record time, while Jeannie closed her eyes and rested. Neither of them said a word. He carried her into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom, not once inquiring what she wanted. Easing her down onto her bed, he removed her beige heels, then sat beside her.
"Don't look so worried," she said. "I told you I'm fine."
"You may be, but I'm not." Leaning over her, he positioned his hands at either side of her shoulders. "Guarding you has turned out to be a lot more than I bargained for. How could I protect you from what happened today? I had to stand there and watch you suffer and know there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it! How do you think that made me feel?"
"Helpless?" She twined her arms around his neck.
"I don't ever want to see you suffer like that again. Not for anyone, but especially never again for me. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes, Sam, I understand."
She understood only too well, but she doubted he did. For the first time, Sam truly accepted the fact that she had taken away his pain the day she saved his life. He hadn't wanted to believe she was a true empath, that her psychic talents were strong enough not only to probe inside his mind, but to actually experience his emotions and share his feelings. Friday night's events, coupled with those at the church today, had forced him to admit the truth. This was a beginning, Jeannie realized, but only a beginning. Sam was not the kind of man who would ever surrender easily. He knew she wanted to help him, but he wasn't ready to accept her help. If she pushed him too hard and too fast, he would balk. As it was, he would fight her every inch of the way. If she was ever to reach his soul and save him, she would have to start by using whatever means were available.
Jeannie smiled. She accepted the inevitable. She was falling in love with Sam Dundee, but she knew he might never love her, might never willingly take what she had to offer him. Was she brave enough to accept him on his terms, share a purely physical relationship, when she so desperately needed more?
Pulling him down to her, she lifted her lips to meet his. She nibbled at his bottom lip, and sighed when he groaned.
"I've never wanted anyone else. You're the first and only man I've ever desired," she told him.
"Don't say things like that to me. I'm having a hard enough time as it is, keeping my hands off you."
"I make you feel helpless. I make you feel afraid. And those aren't emotions you're familiar with, are they, Sam Dundee?" She gave him a quick kiss. He groaned again. "I can get inside you, feel what you feel, experience your pleasure, as well as my own." She licked a circle over his lips.
"Maybe you are a witch," he said. "God knows you've bewitched me."
He took her lips completely, with a tender savagery that sent pinpricks of pleasure through her body. He wanted her with a quiet desperation, knowing she wasn't ready to make love, realizing that he needed to progress slowly, allowing both of them to become accustomed to their unique ability to unite on an emotional level.
Deepening the kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue, encouraging her to reciprocate, Sam unbuttoned her dress. Slipping his hands inside, he caressed her shoulders, easing her dress apart. He ran a loving hand over her collarbone. Clutching his shoulders, she thrust her hips off the bed and rubbed herself against him. He nuzzled her neck, then kissed the swell of each breast rising over the lace cups of her bra. His big hands spanned her waist.
"Sam, I—I'm aching. I need… You need… We want…"
He unsnapped the front closure of her bra, peeled it off her high, round breasts and lowered his mouth to cover one beaded nipple. Jeannie cried out from the pleasure, the sheer sensual delight.
The ache grew more and more intense. The throbbing sensation pulsing through her robbed her of her breath. She gasped for air. Trembling, his own breathing ragged, Sam kissed her on the forehead and sat up, making sure he didn't touch her again.
She caught her breath. "Sam?"
"It was almost too much, wasn't it?" He stood up beside the bed. "You're going to be the death of me, Jeannie Alverson." Sam smiled. "I'm not used to waiting for what I want, but in your case, I have no choice."
"Do you think the wait will be worth it?"
Sam walked over to the door, opened it and paused. "Get some rest. I'll check on you later, and carry you down for lunch whenever you're hungry."
"Thank you for taking care of me."
"That's what I'm here for," he said, and closed the door behind him as he walked out into the hall.
He couldn't stay there, looking at her, wanting her, needing her, when she wasn't physically or emotionally strong enough to make love. She was worried that once they'd made love, he'd think the experience hadn't been worth the wait. Didn't she know, couldn't she sense, that just kissing her turned him inside out?
Oh, she knew, all right. She felt his fear, sensed his helplessness. And she'd said she understood. Did she? Did she really know that the thought of making love to her scared the hell out of him?
Chapter 7
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Jeannie walked slowly over to where Sam stood looking through the long, narrow windows in the kitchen. Outside, the morning sunshine brightened the small garden and patio, which were surrounded by a privacy fence. She laid her hand on his back; he tensed immediately at her touch and stepped away from her.
Although he guarded her day and night, Sam had kept his distance—an emotional distance. Something had happened to him Sunday, something he didn't like in the least. Jeannie had indeed gotten inside him, had become a part of him. And he hated it!
Seeing her suffer Matthew's pain had hurt him deeply, reaching inside to touch a part of him that he hadn't even known existed. A part of him he didn't want to exist. Then, after they returned home and he kissed her again and caressed her intimately, he'd been forced to admit the truth to himself, the truth Jeannie already knew. She did make him feel helpless and afraid. Not only was Sam unaccustomed to those emotions, he hated them. Except for a few regrettable lapses, Sam was always in control, of himself and those around him. And although he had experienced fear on a few rare occasions, no woman had ever evoked that emotion within him. But then, he'd never known a woman like Jeannie Alverson.