Time Enough for Love (10 page)

“Chuck?” she breathed.

He opened his eyes. Her mouth was mere inches away from his. At this distance, her eyes were more than brown. He could see dark brown and lighter brown mixed in with flecks of every gorgeous shade in between. She smiled, and even though it was a sad smile, it made her eyes shine. He couldn’t keep himself from reaching up and lightly tracing the line of her jaw. She was so beautiful, it hurt.

He had to moisten his lips before he could speak. Even then, his voice came out little more than a whisper. “Yeah, Mags?”

“I want to be with you tonight.”

He couldn’t answer her. What could he possibly say to that?

“Tomorrow night I’ll do what you ask,” she told him. “But tonight I want you to make love to me.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth, pulling back to look into his eyes and whisper, “Please?”

She kissed him again, and Chuck felt his resistance crumble in a flood of emotion so powerful, he nearly cried out.

And instead of backing away, he kissed her too.

He kissed her deeply, taking possession of her
mouth, thrilling at the sound of pleasure she made as he pushed her back onto the bed with him.

Dear, sweet God, he wanted this. He wanted her. He
needed
her. He kissed her even harder and she met him with a fierce passion that took his breath away.

She molded her body around him, tightly gripping the leg he thrust up between hers, pressing herself against him. She was a dizzying mixture of softness and muscles, of sweetness and fire. She was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he couldn’t truly have.

Chuck knew he shouldn’t run his hands up underneath the edge of her shirt. He knew he shouldn’t cup the softness of her breast in the palm of his hand. And he knew the last thing he should do was caress the tantalizingly erect nub of her nipple and arouse her even further.

But he did and the sounds she made deep in the back of her throat as she kept on kissing him set him on fire.

He knew he should stop. He knew he should back away. Maggie didn’t belong to him. She never could.

But when she tugged at his jacket, he helped her pull it off. He unfastened the shoulder holster and that and the gun soon followed the jacket onto the floor. And when she pulled at his T-shirt, that, too, went up and over his head.

And then he kissed her again. The sensation of
her hands gliding across the bare skin of his back combined with the soft eagerness of her mouth was dizzying.

Sixty hours. He only had sixty hours left, regardless of his own failure or success. His time was running out, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Except take this moment. He could take these few hours, steal this single taste of paradise.

And he
would
be stealing. Maggie had laid all of her feelings and desires out on the table, leaving herself open and vulnerable.

But he couldn’t keep himself from taking advantage. He could no longer resist what he’d wanted for so long.

She’d unbuttoned her shirt and he pushed it off her shoulders, exposing the lace of her bra and the smooth expanse of her stomach. He kissed the tops of her breasts, ran his mouth and hands along all that glorious skin as she reached for the top button on his jeans.

Her fingers brushed against him and the reality of what they were going to do—of what they were doing—was too much. He lifted his head. “Maggie—”

She knew what he was thinking. “This is right,” she told him. “We
need
this.” She pulled him down on top of her, cradling him between her legs as she kissed him again. “
I
need this. I need you, Chuck.”

Her skirt was gone. Somehow she’d managed to free herself from it. She lifted her hips, pressing herself intimately against him, and Chuck knew he was only kidding himself. Even if he had wanted to, there was no way he could stop what they’d started.

And God help him, he didn’t want to.

He kissed her, filled with that odd mixture of euphoria and despair as she reached for him again, unfastening his zipper. And then, God, she was touching him.

He pulled back, swiftly kicking his legs free from his jeans and his shorts, even as she unfastened her bra and skimmed her own panties down her legs.

He wanted to stop time, to freeze this moment, to step back and just look at her, Maggie Winthrop, lying naked on his bed, waiting for him,
wanting
him. It was his richest, dearest fantasy come true.

But he knew he couldn’t hesitate, he couldn’t risk taking the time to form any rational thoughts. Because if he were thinking rationally, he would know damn well that the right thing to do was to stop. To keep this beautiful insanity from going any further.

Maggie reached for him even as he lunged for her, and together they fell back on the bed, skin touching skin, soft flesh against taut muscle.

She was so tiny, so perfect. He felt as if he could crush her, as if it wouldn’t take much for him to hurt
her badly. Yet she pulled him even closer, as if the weight of his body on top of hers didn’t alarm her, as if she trusted him completely.

Chuck wanted to touch her everywhere at once and he skimmed the softness of her skin with his hands and mouth, stroking, caressing, reveling in her sweet smoothness. He explored her most intimate place with his fingers; she was slick and hot and so ready for him. She pushed him over onto his back so that she was on top of him, straddling him, the softness of her belly pressing against his arousal. Her dark hair hung like a curtain around them as she leaned forward to cover his mouth with hers in a hot, sweet kiss. Then she shifted, leaving a trail of kisses along his neck, down his chest. The sensation was so exquisite, he heard himself groan aloud.

He grabbed her then, pushing her back against the bed. Her hair was spread out around her, dark against the white linen.

She smiled up at him with such delight dancing in her eyes.

He couldn’t smile back at her, couldn’t speak. He could only kiss her, only pray that the waves of emotion that were flooding him would subside before he broke down and wept like a child.

His heart clenched. God help him, God help him, he shouldn’t be doing this. He had no right.…

“Do you have protection?” she whispered. “A condom?”

Chuck shook his head no. No, this had been the last thing he’d imagined actually happening.

Now they were going to have to stop. Now he would have no choice. He should have felt relief, but the rush of disappointment was so sharp, he had to close his eyes.

“I’ve got one in my purse,” she told him, pushing herself up and off the bed, moving swiftly across the room.

She was back almost instantly, tearing open the foil-wrapped package and handing him its contents.

But it was too late. Sanity had returned. “Mags, we shouldn’t do this.” God, if only his body would listen to his own words of reason. He knew what he was saying would be far more believable without the extremely obvious proof of his desire for her.

He saw the flare of impatience in her eyes. Impatience, anger, and hurt. “Why not? Where does it say that you shouldn’t get what you want? Who the hell are you to say what’s wrong and what’s right?

“
This
is right,” she said, pushing him back against the pillows, straddling him once more, leaning forward to kiss him on the mouth. It was a hard kiss, a punishing kiss, but her lips softened almost instantly, and the rush of need that filled him was
dizzying. It didn’t seem possible, but he grew even harder with her stomach pressed against him.

“And
this
is right!” She shifted her hips, coming down on top of him, and with one smooth, incredible thrust, he was inside of her.

But the rolled condom was still in his hand.

“Maggie—God!”

Her head was thrown back as she sat above him, moving on top of him, setting a rhythm that echoed the sudden leap of his pulse, and he felt himself slipping toward the edge of a cliff, toward the unstoppable free fall of his own release. The sight of her, her breasts taut with need, her nipples tight peaks of desire, only fueled his desire, and he felt himself sliding faster and faster toward the point of no return.

Nothing,
nothing
had ever felt so good.…

He was bigger than she was, stronger, yet he was powerless to stop her, enslaved by his own needs. He wanted her, he needed her.

He loved her.

And he loved her enough to lift her up and off of him.

They couldn’t do this. This
wasn’t
right.

Maggie protested, and even fought him at first. “No! Chuck—”

He held up the condom he’d damn near crushed
in his hand. “These things don’t work too well unless you actually put them on.”

She watched as he swiftly did just that, her smile tentative. She’d actually thought he’d intended to stop them, to keep them from going any further.

In one swift move, he flipped her onto her back. She reached for him, opening her legs to him, ready to give herself to him so completely. He gazed into her eyes as he entered her slowly, slowly but so deeply she caught her breath at the sensation. Her lips were parted, her eyes dreamy, her lids half-closed as he held himself still inside of her.

And then she smiled, and Chuck knew that his entire life had been building to this one exquisite moment in time.

“This is right,” he whispered. “
This
is right.”

Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. “Yes,” she whispered back. “I think so too.”

He kissed her then. Her lips were so soft, so sweet. She lifted her hips, pressing him even farther inside of her, and they both cried out, their voices intermingling in the stillness of the dimly lit room.

He wanted to make love to her slowly, to make this moment last forever. But she urged him on, faster, harder, deeper. He drove himself inside of her, filling her again and again, as the world blurred around him, until there was only now, and only Maggie.

Only Maggie.

She cried out and he felt the beginning of her release. It was completely consuming, wildly overpowering. She clung to him, writhing beneath him, her fingernails sharp against his back.

Her release pushed him over the edge and he exploded in an eruption of pleasure that cannonballed through him. It was a pleasure so sharp and sweet, it seemed to burn him, incinerating him instantly. All coherent thought vanished, and there were only feelings, only warmth.

A sense of peace.

A sweet, perfect sensation of timeless floating.

The scent of Maggie’s sweet perfume.

“I think I love you,” Maggie whispered, her mouth brushing lightly against his face.

And just like that, he was back. His eyes opened, and reality clicked back into focus. His scientist’s brain was back on-line, and he felt a sinking sense of dread at her words.

She thought she
loved
him.

He rolled off of her, suddenly aware that he was crushing her. He felt her watching him, felt her light brown eyes studying his face, and he forced a smile. She didn’t move closer, didn’t try to nestle against him or snuggle with him.

He closed his eyes.

God, what he would have given to hear her say those words anytime over the past few years.

But now … She
couldn’t
love him. She had to love
Charles
.

But he
was
Charles, he reasoned. Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible thing. If Maggie could love him, as scarred and jaded as he was, then surely she could love Charles. It only made sense.

Except for the fact that love wasn’t rational—love didn’t make sense.

Still, perhaps this intimacy they’d just shared would work in his favor. Maybe this physical connection would help to bind Maggie to him—whether he was Chuck
or
Charles.

“Are you asleep?” she whispered.

Chuck opened his eyes to find her still watching him. “No.”

“Are you okay?” There was concern in her eyes. Concern and uncertainty.

“Yeah.” He reached for her, pulling her against him, molding her back against his front and covering them both with the sheet. Her head was nestled underneath his chin, and he held her close, his arm around her, one hand resting lightly on her breast.

He held her possessively, even though he knew she wasn’t his to keep.

This
wasn’t
right, what he’d done, what he was
doing with her here, tonight. He’d tried to convince himself otherwise in the heat of passion, but now he was face-to-face with the truth. Making love to her and holding her this way as she slept was wrong. But tonight was the only time with Maggie that he had—it was the only time he’d ever have.

And he was taking that time, even though he knew doing so was selfish and cruel.

He knew damn well he couldn’t give her what she wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her his secrets. He wasn’t any good at opening up, at expressing himself. God, he hadn’t even been able to tell her that he loved her.

But that was the least of it.

Sixty hours. Fewer now. If he failed, in less than sixty hours he would be dead.

And if he succeeded … If his plan worked, if Maggie could convince Charles to switch his career to medicine, then time travel would never be invented. Wizard-9 would be thwarted, the White House wouldn’t be blown up, the president wouldn’t die.

And Chuck’s current life and the path he’d taken to get here would be instantly erased. His life as he knew it would simply cease to exist.

And Chuck himself would vanish.

L
ATE IN THE
afternoon, Maggie awoke to find Chuck staring at the ceiling.

She lay there for a moment, studying his profile. His mouth was set in its usual grim line, and the muscles in the side of his jaw were jumping. No wonder he frequently gripped and rubbed his forehead and neck—his constantly clenched teeth probably gave him one incredible headache.

Maggie wished she had the power to read minds, to know what he was thinking.

She didn’t try to fool herself into imagining that he would ever volunteer that information.

Her stomach rumbled hungrily and he turned his head. “You’re awake.”