by Diana Palmer
"Another first?" he asked over her head, and she managed to nod. He moved her lazily against him, laughing softly with pure delight at the way she gasped, at the feel of her body.
"Jake!" she cried out, shaking.
His hands slid from her waist to just under her arms, his thumbs sliding softly against the swell of her breasts. "We'll stop in a minute," he said reassuringly. "Don't faint"
As he spoke, his hands moved, and they were suddenly on her, swallowing her as his head bent. "Lift up to me, baby," he whispered, his mouth open. He felt her shaky, helpless movement, and then he had her under his mouth, in his mouth, enjoying her silky skin with feverish pleasure. He felt her shiver at the faint suction he created, and his big hands lifted her into the aroused contours of his body as he enjoyed her for minutes that stretched on erotically.
But his resolution not to let things get out of hand was becoming shakier by the minute. She was making noises that made him stiffen with need. Her hands were in his thick dark hair, pulling his mouth even closer against her breasts, and she was moving rhythmically, in time with the caresses of his mouthuntil, finally, his need became too urgent to ignore. He'd promised her that he could do this and not lose his head. In fact he had, a dozen times in his youth. But this was different. This was like no other time for him, and he knew that it was going to be agony to stop at all.
He lifted his head to look at a face he didn't even recognize. Her head was thrown back, her long hair spilling almost to her waist in a glorious dark tangle, her eyes slitted with pleasure, her face flushed, her mouth swollen and vulnerable.
His own eyes were black with desire, and his hands had a faint tremor as they held her waist firmly. "I need you," he said huskily. "And you need me. Let me take you to bed."
"I could get pregnant, Jake," she whispered fearfully. Her need for him was no lie, but years of conditioning made her panic and she pushed at his hard chest. "Let me go! Please, I can't!"
"Stand still, for God's sake!" he groaned, shuddering from her unknowing provocation. He held her firmly, stilling her movements, and stood shivering, with his head bowed, trying to breathe, trying to stop the raging urgency from bending him double with frustrated pain.
"I'm sorry," she faltered inadequately.
He shuddered again. His head lifted and his eyes held hers relentlessly. "I can prevent a child," he said roughly. "I've got something in my wallet."
She wanted to. She wanted him. But there were barriers in her mind, put there by her strict upbringing, kept there by her own beliefs and values. He didn't want commitment, she knew that, and she couldn't go to bed with him without it. A one-night stand was the last thing in the world she wanted, even with Jake.
Her stubborn hesitation made him angry. He breathed deliberately, but he was hurting. He glared at her through a red rage. "Setting traps?" he asked in a softly contemptuous tone. "You're going to hold out for a wedding ring, is that how it goes?" He smiled with cold cynicism and pushed her away none too gently. He reached down to swipe up her pajama top and fling it at her. "Well, don't hold your breath, honey. That's been tried, too. I've never wanted any woman enough to sacrifice my freedom for a few minutes of feverish coupling in a bed."
He made it sound cheap and sordid. She closed her eyes and shivered now with distaste as she got back into her pajama top and buttoned it with trembling fingers. She was glad she wasn't wearing her glasses. She couldn't bear the contempt in his eyes. But he'd gotten it all wrong. She wasn't trying to tease or blackmail him into marriage. She'd been as far gone as he had. It was just that she had too many scruples to give herself without love on both sides.
He felt furious. Her shoulders were slumped with defeat and she looked as if he'd slapped her. He ground his teeth at what he'd said and done. He should never have let things go so far. He'd even promised her that he could control their lovemaking, and look what had happened. But the sight of her in that pajama top had made him blind with passion. Just the smell of her, the scent of roses that clung to her, aroused him.
"I have to get dressed," she said in a husky, shamed tone. She turned and went into the bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it with tears streaming down her cheeks. She never wanted to see him again. She hadn't thought that anything could hurt so much. He'd been so gentle with her, so loving, and then to saythat! He only wanted her body, not her mind and heart. He was a man on the make!
"Maureen."
She sniffed back the tears and locked the bedroom door with an audible click. She didn't answer him, because she didn't want him to hear how upset she was.
He knew already. He'd heard the sniffing. He sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against the door. "I'll see you tonight," he said. "I have to go."
She managed to control the quaver in her voice. "I won't go out with you tonight, Jake," she said proudly. "Thanks allall the same. Goodbye."
He paused, bristling with anger and frustration and bad temper. He moved away from the bedroom door with fury in his dark eyes. "If that's how you want it, it's fine with me. I must have better things to do with my spare time than carting around a stone virgin!"
She closed her eyes as his angry footsteps faded away. A door slammed. She leaned back against the bedroom door, letting the tears fall. Well, she knew now what he really thought of her. It was her own fault, anyway; she should never have let him touch her. Now he was gone and she'd never see him again. She hated herself. She hated him even more.
She dressed, trying not to look at her chastened face in the mirror as she put her hair into a tight bun and smeared on a minimum of makeup to go with her simple blue knit dress. She made breakfast and fed Bagwell, and went to work with her heart around her knees.
Jake was nowhere in sight that day, and he didn't come home that night. She'd glanced helplessly out the back door to see if his truck was in the driveway, but it wasn't. Well, she thought miserably, what had she expected? She'd sent him running. She must have some kind of knack for keeping attractive men at bay, because she'd done a magnificent job with Jake.
Saturday came, finally, and at least it was a clear, sunny day so that she could get out in the backyard with her hoe and weed her small vegetable patch. But her heart wasn't really in it. She felt guilty that she'd let Jake touch her the way he had. It had probably sent him off the deep end and led to their almost violent confrontation. If she'd called a halt at once, they'd still be friends. But she'd loved what he'd been doing to her.
With a heavy sigh, she wielded her hoe. Her hair was pulled into a bun. She wore no makeup at all. With her jeans and sandals she wore an old, oversize cotton shirt, the back of which bore a logo marking 150 years of independence for Texas. She looked young and vulnerable, but not at all sexywhich was what she'd wanted. She had to learn to control those wanton feelings, she told herself. Then, maybe the next timeif there was a next timeshe wouldn't land herself in such a miserable emotional mess. She'd acted like a sophisticated woman, and she wasn't.
She was so wrapped up in her anguish that she didn't hear Jake until he was standing beside her. Her heart raced but she couldn't look up at him. She was too ashamed.
His dark eyes slid over her white face with some guilt of his own. He knew without being told why she was dressed this way, looking this way. With her strict upbringing, what he'd done to her would probably have seemed like a cardinal sin. He hadn't slept a full night since it happened, despite the business that had kept him away from her. He had regrets of his own, not only about backing her into a corner as he had, but mostly about the things he'd said to her.
"Are we still speaking?" he asked with forced carelessness. "Or do I have to eat my own cooking again tonight?"
She was staring at her dusty toes in the brown sandals, feeling very young and nervous. "I didn't think you'd ever speak to me again," she said quietly. Her lower lip trembled and she caught it in her teeth. "I'm so sorry, Jake!"
He swore softly under his breath and suddenly jerked her against him, wrapping her
up hungrily in his big arms. He'd never felt so protective about a woman. He hated seeing her cry and feeling that he was responsible for her tears. His big arms contracted, pressing her against him.
"I've missed you," he ground out at her temple. He buried his face in her neck and kissed it ardently, his lean hands smoothing up and down her back. "My God, I'm sorry, too! I didn't mean what I said to you that morning."
Her heart lifted magically. He had to care a little, because he'd come back. Her eyes closed and she sighed as she snuggled closer. At least he didn't hate her anymore.
"It was my fault, too," she said. "I should never havehave behaved that way with you. I acted like a streetwalker!"
"No!" He tilted her face up to his, shocked at her incredible statement. "My God, you did nothing of the sort!"
"I let you look at me like that," she lowered her eyes and flushed furiously.
He had to catch his breath. He'd never had to deal with this kind of emotional trauma. The women in his world were so sophisticated that he couldn't conceive of any of them being ashamed to let a man see them nude. But, then, he'd never met anyone like Maureen.
"Did none of your people ever talk to you about sex?" he asked gently.
She closed her eyes. "Sex before marriage is wrong," she whispered. "My parents were very religious people, Jake, and I am, too." She looked up. "I won't apologize for my beliefs. I shouldn't have to defend them."
He smiled gently. "No, and I'm not asking you to." He sighed, touching her face with just his fingertips. "But the feelings you had when I touched you are very natural. They're part of being a woman. If you couldn't enjoy a man's mouth on yours, a man's hands on your body, you'd only be half alive." He smoothed his hands over her back. "Sex is the basis of our whole species, little one. Without it, you and I wouldn't even be here."
It was hard for her to talk about it. Her eyes lowered to his shirt. It was blue with an emblem on the pocket, and she liked the way it clung to his broad, hard chest, outlining the ripple of muscle when his arms moved closer around her. "I didn't know that it made people so helpless," she confessed shyly.
"Or so hot?" He grinned wickedly.
She smiled at him. "That, too."
"All you have to remember is that men are made in such a way that they're easily aroused and not so easily cooled down. I thought I could look at you without going nuts, and I found out that I couldn't." He nuzzled his nose against hers. "For the first time in my life, I couldn't turn it off when I wanted to," he whispered. "You had me so aroused, I thought I was going to be sick."
Her eyes widened, fascinated.
His lips curved into an amused smile. "You don't understand?" he asked gently. "Then let me explain it to you."
He did, to her shocked embarrassment, so that her face was on fire by the time he finished and she knew her knees were going to collapse under her. No one had ever spoken to her so frankly of intimate things before.
"My gosh!" she burst out, trying to move away from him.
He held her there with controlled gentleness. "That will educate you a little more," he said unashamedly, his dark eyes holding hers without the sparkle of humor they'd had only seconds before. "You'll need to know, because I'm not going away again. It hurts too much to be away from you. Since you don't want an affair with me, we'll have to do things your way. And if you don't tempt me again by walking around in that damned pajama top, we'll get along fine."
"Was that why?" she asked, her voice breathless.
He nodded. "I'd had some dreams of my own about you," he said quietly. "And if you want to know, it takes a lot to arouse me these days. You can do it by walking across a room."
She lowered her eyes quickly. "It might be better if you found someone who didn't have all my hangups," she said.
"I don't want someone without your hang-ups." He sighed. "I just want you. In any way you feel comfortable with me. I guess I can live on cold showers and hot dreams if I have to," he said with a rueful smile. "As long as you'll kiss me now and again."
"You make me feel guilty," she said miserably.
"That isn't what I want at all." He bent and brushed his mouth gently against hers, feeling and loving its instant response. "I think I can handle it now without going off the deep end like I did last time," he bit off against her lips. "So open your mouth and let me show you how much I've missed you."
The slow, expert penetration of his tongue made her tense with the kind of fiery desire he'd kindled in her the morning they'd argued. She gasped under his hard lips and felt his hands gathering her roughly to his hips, showing her what he'd explained to her minutes before.
His eyes opened and his mouth lifted slowly, but his hands didn't release her. "Relax," he whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"It embarrasses me," she moaned.
"Only because you're such a sheltered little thing," he breathed. He kissed her eyelids shut and nuzzled his face against hers. "Humor me. This is the most innocent time I've spent with a woman since I became an adult, and I don't think I've ever felt such tenderness. Don't spoil it for me."
She had to fight down the urge to run. Slowly her tense legs gave way and she let him have her weight, surprised to find how easily she fitted against him, how fluid her body could be as he smoothed it intimately against his. His legs trembled faintly, but his hands relaxed their firm grip and became gentle and caressing on her hips.
"Heaven," he whispered. "It's sheer heaven."
Her hands flattened against his chest and she rested her forehead against him with a long, sweet sigh. Yes, it was. The feel of him was no longer frightening, because he wasn't demanding anything. It began to be natural, somehow, as if he belonged to her and always had.
"I guess this is familiar territory for you," she said quietly.
"In some ways." He kissed her forehead with breathless tenderness. "Would you like to know how long it's been since I've had a woman intimately?"
She flushed. "No!"
He smiled against her skin. "It's been two years, Maureen."
That surprised her into lifting her shocked face. He wasn't kidding. It was in his dark eyes, in the hard lines of his face. "Really?" she asked.
He nodded. "I've been busy. Women had begun to lose their appeal for reasons I'll tell you one day. I got tired of being used."
She frowned slightly. "Why would women want to use you?"
He couldn't tell her that. He brushed his mouth gently over hers. "You're very soft," he murmured. "I remember the way you felt against me in your apartment that morning, without your top"
She buried her face against his chest. "Don't."
His open mouth brushed over her cheek. "The softness in my hands" he groaned, searching for her mouth again.
She felt the kiss like a brand on her mouth. His body grew even more taut as he deepened the kiss, and his hands slid lower down her body to lift her into shockingly close contact. She'd never felt anything half so intimate. It was like touching a live wire. She cried out and her nails bit into him as he pulled her rhythmically into the changed contours of his big body.
He shuddered suddenly and jerked away from her. He walked off a little way and lit a cigarette with unsteady fingers. In the back of his mind was some crazy song about a family man, and the whole while he'd been holding Maureen, he'd been hearing lullabies. Surely he was going crazy. Missing her had become acutely painful. He'd wanted to stay away, to avoid any more involvement with her. She wouldn't fit into his life, he kept telling himself, and she couldn't give him an affair. But he was helpless. He wanted her too much to walk away. And if her headlong response was any indication, she wanted him every bit as much.
"What are we going to do, Maureen?" he asked, still with his back to her and grateful that the duplex was so secluded that he could kiss her in the yard without any danger of their being seen.
"I don't know," she said, her voice shaking. She wrapped her arms around her aching breasts and stared down at the disturbed earth where she'
d been hoeing. "It isn't fair to you!"
He turned then, his face a little paler than it had been, and moved back to her with the smoking cigarette in one big hand. "I'm afraid of marriage," he said gently. "My parents spent twenty years together, and few of them were happy. They always said they'd been in love at the beginning, but they weren't at the end." His big shoulders rose and fell. "I don't know that I could adjust to another person in my life. Or more than one." His dark eyes met hers. "On the other hand, I'd like very much to make you pregnant," he said huskily. "And that scares the hell out of me, do you know that?"
She felt her body tremble as the import of the words sank in. He didn't sound like a man who wanted a quick affair. He sounded like a man with commitment on his mind.
"Are you shocked?" he asked with a faint smile. "So am I. I've never said that to a woman in my life."
She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes. "I'm glad," she whispered.
He sighed, feeling velvet webs spinning around him. It was inevitable, he supposed. He touched her dark hair in its tight bun. "How about putting up that hoe and getting into something dressy?" he asked. "We'll fly down to Galveston and get some seafood."
She laughed. "You crazy man," she said, snuggling against him. "And I suppose you could fly us there in your own airplane and we could go out on your yacht and fish for the seafood ourselves?" She didn't see his face, which had gone white. She laughed again and hugged him. "I like your sense of humor. But I'll be very happy with Long John Silver's fish and chips. You can sit and talk to Bagwell while I get dressed."
She moved away and he followed her, scowling. This was going to be more complicated than he'd imagined. After that test flight on Friday, he wouldn't be able to keep secrets from her. Everything would be made public, including his identity. He cursed under his breath. If only she'd been a liberated, sophisticated woman, he could have taken her to bed and worked her out of his system. But she was the kind of woman he'd dreamed of all his life, and he wanted things with her and of her that he'd never wanted before. It was going to lead to tragedy in the end, if he couldn't level with her in time.