by Diana Palmer
She stared quietly into his eyes. “Did Bruce call you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “He didn’t have to. Jenna told me everything. Not that it would have mattered, once I came to my senses. You couldn’t have been the way you were with me in the woods that day if there’d been another man. And no money-hungry woman works the way you work to earn your keep.”
It was nice to be believed at last, but was it guilt making him say these things?
“It...it was kind of you to come all this way to tell me,” she murmured, confused.
“I came for more than that,” he said. “I want to touch you. Are you going to let me, and not back away this time?”
Her breath almost stopped as she looked into those soft, quiet gray eyes, the face that she’d loved for an eternity.
“Not out of guilt, King,” she pleaded unsteadily.
“Not out of guilt, darling,” he said, his voice deepening with emotion. His fingers brushed her neck, her chin, the soft hollow in her throat.
“Your heart’s trying to climb out,” he murmured, watching the wild pulsing under his fingers. His eyes dropped to the silk over her taut breasts and he stared at it with a burning gaze. As if he couldn’t help himself, his fingers began to trail down to that tautness, his knuckles brushing over her gently.
“No.” She caught her breath, gripping his hair-covered wrist with cold, nervous fingers.
“I’ve lain awake nights remembering,” he ground out, holding her eyes. “The way you felt, the way you looked.... I don’t imagine it’s going to be easy, but from now on, I’m going to handle you like priceless porcelain.”
Her heart began to throb wildly at the light in his eyes, the deepening tone of his voice. Watch it, girl, she told herself, he’s a master at teasing women.
“You aren’t going to handle me at all,” she said with a wobble in her voice.
“You’re going to want me,” he whispered, leaning over her with his big hands on either side of her head. “You already do, but you’ve put all the old walls back up because of what I did to you. I’m going to knock them down, Miss Whitehall,” he promised softly. “One by one, day by day, until you’re as hungry for me as I am for you.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Never,” she breathed. “I don’t...I don’t want that with you.”
“Darling,” he murmured, bending, “of course you do.”
His mouth brushed against hers teasingly, tracing the outline of her full, soft lips, lightly pressing, nudging, until they parted helplessly. She felt his own lips parting and tasted smoke and coffee and mint as she gave in to the long hunger for him, the loneliness and heartache and sleepless nights when she would have given anything to touch him.
Her fingers went hesitantly to his shirt, and he caught them, lifting them to his face, moving them caressingly against his cheek.
“Yes,” he whispered huskily, “like that. Soft little fingers, I could feel them when I closed my eyes, tracing patterns across my face...on my body.”
She caught her breath as his mouth eased between her lips intimately.
“You’ve never touched me,” he whispered tormentingly. “Don’t you want to feel my skin, to touch it the way I’ve touched yours?”
She moaned, hating what he could do to her with words, hating the images that were flashing through her mind.
“Come here, darling,” he whispered, lifting her gently against him to lie across his legs while his mouth took more and more from hers. Her fingers dug into his shoulders through the expensive fabric of his jacket, her mouth trying to match the expertness of his, trying to give what he was demanding. What she lacked in experience, she made up for with pure love, but that was something he’d never know, because she’d never have the courage to tell him. He’d think it was desire, like what he was feeling for her, a purely physical thing.
“I love the way you feel in satin,” he murmured gruffly, letting his hands mold the soft curves of her body.
“You shouldn’t...touch me that way,” she managed.
“Nothing we do together is wrong, if we both want it,” he said, lifting his disheveled blond head to look down at her. “Teddi, would you ever let another man touch you like this?” he asked solemnly.
She looked frankly horrified, and he nodded, his eyes watchful. “And I know that,” he continued. “I’m not going to hold you in contempt for wanting my hands on this sweet young body, for letting me see it. I don’t play bedroom games with virgins, surely to God you know that by now?”
Her eyes widened curiously. “What do you want, then?” she whispered.
He drew in a steadying breath. “Honey, you’re not that naive, surely?”
“You...want me?” she asked shyly.
“Desperately,” he replied quietly.
“But—”
He touched her mouth with a silencing finger. “I’m not going to seduce you. I could, very easily. But that’s not what I want. I’m going to teach you how to trust me again. Then,” he murmured, bending to kiss her very gently, “I’m going to teach you how to make love.”
“I won’t have an affair with you,” she told him.
He smiled. “Won’t you?”
“King...”
“Not now.” He smoothed the hair away from her cheeks, sketching the soft lines of her face with eyes that blazed with curbed hunger. “Still nervous of me?”
“A little.” She looked up at him, feeling as if all her dreams had suddenly come true. It couldn’t be real; he must be the product of her insane longing for him. She reached up hesitantly to touch his hard face. “You’re stronger than I am, and I know now how it is when you...when you want a woman.”
“No, you don’t,” he replied, holding her hand against his cheek. “I was half out of my mind with jealousy. That wasn’t lovemaking, it was pure revenge. Don’t confuse the two.” He searched her eyes slowly. “Teddi, men can be animals, but I could never be one with you past a certain point. Even that day in the den, when I looked at you, I could feel myself melting inside. Another minute, and you would have had no reason to be afraid of me. Not one.” He touched her hot cheek and smiled faintly. “Despite what I did, I’m a gentle lover, darling. I’d be endlessly patient with you.”
The flush got worse, but she didn’t drop her eyes, she couldn’t seem to look away. She was aware of the warmth and scent of him, the strength in his arms, the softness in his eyes as he looked back at her.
“You’d have to teach me...how to please you,” she heard herself say.
“You already please me,” he said, his fingers moving gently on her softness, the sound of them stroking the satin like the whisper of the wind. “Where are you bruised?” he breathed, looking down. “Here?” he asked, letting his hand linger over her heart as he caught her gaze.
“A...little,” she whispered.
As she watched, he bent his head and she felt the hot press of his lips even through the fabric, in a caress she’d never shared with a man.
She moaned, catching his head with hands that didn’t seem to know whether to push or pull.
Before the pleasure fully registered on her, he sat up, pulling her with him. “Someday,” he breathed huskily, “I’m going to do that when there’s no material in my way.”
Just the thought of it made her heart run away, her breath catch in her throat.
She looked at him, her fingers on the buttons of the gown, and her gaze was full of hunger for his eyes, his lips.
He caught the expression in her eyes and drew in a sharp breath. “Don’t,” he cautioned, getting to his feet. “I want you too much already.”
She stared, puzzled, her hands stilled as she tried to understand what he wanted.
“Teddi, I haven’t felt like this since I was sixteen years old,” he ground out, ramming his hands into his pockets as he turned away from her. “And that being the case, I think you’d better go and put on something that’s a little more concealing. The whole world may have gone permissive, but I h
ave a few things in common with my Victorian ancestors, and I don’t want to take you into my bed on an impulse.”
“I don’t understand what you want,” she murmured, rising.
“You will.” He turned, moving close to brush a tender kiss across her forehead. “Now go and dress and throw something into a bag. I didn’t come all this way to be turned down.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a Julius Caesar complex?” she asked, holding out her hand for the walking stick he’d picked up from the floor.
“Only where you’re concerned, darling,” he drawled with a wicked smile. “I do admit, in that respect, to an infatuation with the idea of conquest.”
She hurried away before he could see the redness in her cheeks.
* * *
Teddi couldn’t remember ever being so much a part of a family. Miss Peake, thin and tart and motherly, hovered like a good fairy, trying to tempt Teddi’s appetite with soups and delicate little pastries.
“But I’m perfectly able to get up,” Teddi had protested the day King brought her home.
Miss Peake had looked down her hatchet nose with a sniff. “After a concussion?” she asked haughtily. “With that leg? Bruised from head to toe? You get out of that bed, Miss Teddi, and I’ll carry you back in here myself!”
And that had been the end of it. Teddi had no doubt at all that Miss Peake was capable of making good on her threat. Mary and Jenna had laughed at the confrontation, but not in front of their formidable housekeeper.
“I can see her now,” Jenna whispered merrily, “hauling you over her shoulder...”
“She wouldn’t have to,” Mary laughed. “King would beat her to it. No, my dear,” she told the invalid with a kindly pat on the hand, “you stay where you are until King and Miss Peake feel that you’re able to wander about again.”
She left, and Jenna stared after her with both eyebrows raised. “Poor Mama.” She shook her head. “She hasn’t been able to change the furniture or make a major decision since King and Miss Peake took over the property.”
Teddi laughed in spite of herself. “You make them sound like an invading army.”
Jenna smiled. “What a delightful analogy!”
“They do tend to stick together,” Teddi said, grinning.
“Did I tell you what King said to Blakely, when Blakely told him we were getting married and to do his worst?” Jenna asked.
Teddi shook her head.
“He congratulated him. Not a word about anything. He even offered to give us a tract in the Valley!”
“That was nice.” Teddi smiled.
“Nice? It was incredible! Blakely couldn’t believe his ears.” Jenna stretched lazily. “Well, I’d better get out of here and let you rest. If you need anything, yell, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Jenna. You’re all so kind...” Teddi faltered, trying to find words.
“You’re family,” Jenna said simply. She smiled. “See you later.”
King looked in on her from time to time, friendly, caring, and Teddi couldn’t help wondering if she was in the right house. He seemed altogether different now, and despite her wariness of him, she began to warm to his new attitude. She could relax, listen to his plans for Gray Stag, to his sometimes amusing revelations about what was going on around the ranch while she convalesced. But he didn’t touch her. Not at all, not once. It was as if he was intent on building friendship between them before he attempted to move any closer physically.
Among them, the family managed to keep her mind off her future. But she still found time to brood. And one day King caught her at it.
“First get well,” he chided when he came in unexpectedly, and his gray eyes danced under the familiar wide-brimmed hat. “Then brood. One day at a time, darling, that’s how it’s done.”
“Change places with me and try that,” Teddi challenged.
He shook his head, smiling wickedly. “I won’t change places, but I might be tempted to join you.”
She averted her eyes. Ridiculous how he could make her pulse jump with mere words. “It’s a twin bed.”
“All the better,” he murmured dryly.
She glared at him. “I told you I didn’t want an affair with you.”
“So you keep saying,” he sighed. “I’ll just have to pay more attention to changing your mind.”
“No fair,” she muttered.
He only laughed. “Everything’s fair now,” he corrected. “What would you like for a snack?” he asked, moving closer. He was wearing denim jeans and a shirt with dusty boots, and he looked like a working man. “How about some strawberries?”
Her big eyes lit up. “Strawberries?”
“I’m having Miss Peake bring them in a few minutes, along with some whipped cream.”
“A week ago, I’d have refused the whipped cream,” she sighed. “But now, I don’t suppose a few extra pounds will matter.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He stared down at her thin body under the sheets with concern. “You’re practically all bones now.”
He sat down beside her, his hard, warm thigh touching her side. He leaned forward to brush her hair away from her cheek. He’d already taken off the bandage, and he put the medicine on her cheek and on her leg, every night himself, trusting it to no one else.
Her eyes went to his chiseled mouth and she stared at it with an intensity she wasn’t even aware of. She couldn’t help herself. It had been so long since he’d kissed her, held her. She wanted him to...
“Do you want to kiss me?” he murmured softly. He leaned down, within touching distance, holding her stunned eyes. “Come on, Teddi. Don’t hold back.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I won’t beg...”
“Oh, the devil with begging,” he growled, parting her lips expertly with his. “What does it matter who starts it if we both want it?” His breath sighed into her mouth, his teeth nibbled at it tenderly while his hands tangled slowly in her hair. His heart pounded heavily over her breasts as he eased down against them.
“King...” Her hands moved up, dislodging his hat to smooth the silky hair at his temples. Her eyes closed, her body lifted, grinding up against his. It was heaven. Heaven!
“Touch me,” he whispered, teasing her mouth with kisses that burned like fire.
“I am,” she whispered, nibbling back at his mouth, eagerly learning all the sweet lessons he was teaching her.
“Not the way I want you to,” he murmured. He found one of her hands and pressed it against the damp front of his denim shirt, where his heart was shuddering in his chest. “Men are like cats, darling, they like to be stroked, didn’t you know?” he murmured.
Her hands smoothed the fabric in slow, hard strokes while he kissed her.
“Teddi,” he groaned. He held himself poised over her, his fingers going impatiently to the buttons of his shirt, tearing them open. “Now,” he growled, thrusting one of her hands inside it, onto the warm, damp skin of his chest. “Like that.”
She stared up at him, feeling a new kind of hunger, aware of exquisite sensations as her fingers tangled in the thick, crisp hair. He looked sensuously male like this, his body half-bare, his hair ruffled, his mouth slightly swollen, his eyes narrow with undisguised ardor.
“Macho,” she breathed, looking straight into his eyes. “Much, much man...”
His hands tightened on her sleek, dark head. “You’re not bad yourself, kid,” he whispered with faint humor. “Harder,” he added, watching her hands with a half smile. “Touch, don’t tickle.”
“I’m trying,” she murmured, “but I’m having to fight my way through the underbrush...”
“You little vixen,” he accused. His mouth crushed down over hers, parting her lips almost savagely as he took what he needed from her. She felt the velvety hardness of his tongue easing into the sweet softness of her mouth, invading, taking, and a surge of wild feeling welled up in her. Her long nails dug into his chest before she lifted her arms to cling to him, raising her body against his warm h
ands, hands that knew where to touch, how to touch, to hold. A wild little moan whispered from her mouth into his, shocking him.
He drew back a breath, watching her. “Too hard?” he whispered, his hands gentle where they rested over the soft upthrust of her body.
“Oh, no,” she whispered back, trembling under his expert caresses.
His thumbs stroked tenderly and she gasped. “You fit my hands so perfectly...woman, you feel like silk and satin, and you make my head spin when I touch you like this. You’re not afraid of me anymore, are you?”
She shook her head slowly, watching him with her heart in her eyes.
His hands moved again, and she arched helplessly, dazed at the newness of what he was teaching her. “All woman,” he breathed. “Soft and wild and giving. This is what a woman should feel when her man touches her. Oh, yes, darling,” he whispered, bending slowly. “Yes, just like that, come up toward me. Darling, darling, move just...like...that....” His mouth caught hers again, and with a sunburst of sensation she felt his fingers opening her gown to the waist, gentle hands, so gentle, touching her in new ways, tenderly awakening sensations she had never known until now.
Slowly, the whole warm weight of his big body eased onto hers. She felt every sinew of him, every male contour; she felt his breathing as if it were her own. She seemed to have become a part of him.
Her body melted into his, softness giving way to hair-matted hardness, her body bare to the waist as his was, her flesh under his. She clung, unafraid, loving him until it was like torture to be so close and yet still not close enough.