Page 56 of Unbound Boxset

No one had ever truly asked her the question. Her father waved it off as a harmless hobby, and her friends had told her it wasn’t practical. She tried to put it into words he could understand. “When I was young, I stumbled upon Leaves of Grass by Whitman. It was so alive, as if each word danced off the page, and the stanzas together created a mystery I wanted to solve.” A smile touched her lips at the memory of that young girl so full of hope and dreams. “I began to read anything I could get my hands on. When my mom had her episodes, I’d retreat to the poets and feel as if my emotions were theirs—it was a great release for me.”

Embarrassed at her admission, she cleared her throat and backtracked. “Of course, I was young then. As I grew older, I realized poetry was a critical element of literature students needed to study.”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t back down now.”

Startled, she stared at him. A frown creased his brow. “I don’t understand.”

“You hide your true feelings. Pretend you don’t care.” She fell silent, not sure what he wanted from her. “What's your favorite poem?”

Julianna blinked. “I have many. Whitman, Moore, Sexton, Lawrence⁠—”

“Recite the first one that comes to mind.”

She hesitated, then spoke slowly, as the last stanzas took shape.

Kiss but then the dust from off my lips,

But draw the turgid pain

From my breast to your bosom, eclipse

My soul again.

Waste me not, I beg you, waste

Not the inner night:

Taste, oh taste and let me taste

The core of delight.

Her breath caught as the sheer vulnerability of her poetic confession shook her. God, she’d practically confirmed her helpless need for his continued touch.

“What is it called?” he asked with a husky drawl.

“‘Liaison.’ D. H. Lawrence.” She forced a small laugh. “I thought it was appropriate with our situation.”

Raw emotion flickered over his face. “Out of all the poems, you picked one with physical passion. Openness. And truth.” He ran his finger gently down her check. “Don’t ever tell me you’re boring again, love.”

Entranced by his intensity, she lost her footing and gazed at him like a love-struck teenager. Jack continued with his questions. “So, you’ve never really left this house?”

It took a moment for her to regain her balance. “No. I was able to teach a few night courses for money here and there, but my father needed full-time care.”

“Did you ever just want to run away from it all?”

Julianna caught a wistfulness in his tone, an underlying question that seemed more serious than he posed. A thousand regrets and wants and dreams raced through her mind, then settled. “Yes. But I chose to stay. I made a promise to my father and I intend to keep it.”

“Even at the expense of yourself?”

Her fingers stilled on his chest. “Yes,” she said softly. “Even at the expense of myself.”

“What did you promise?”

“Nothing important.” She rolled off the bed, kicked off the shoes, and grabbed a long terry cloth robe. “Are you hungry?”

He watched her cover up her nakedness and firmly belt the sash. “For food?”

God, he was gorgeous. All lean muscle and tawny skin. He reminded her of a predator temporarily sated, but his eyes still gleamed with lazy warning, reminding her he could strike at any time. Heat speared down her belly and her thighs clenched in anticipation. “Yes, food. I worked up an appetite.”

“Sure. But I’m not done with you yet.”

Julianna shivered at the delicious threat and led him into the kitchen.