by Diana Palmer
“Shhhh,” he whispered at her breast. “It’s all right. Don’t fight me.”
She couldn’t have. She shuddered and trembled, crying as he made the most exquisite sensations felt in the nether reaches of her slender body. Her nails dug into him and she couldn’t help it.
“Marianne,” he whispered, shifting his mouth over hers. He stopped his delicate probing and lifted her in his arms. She felt the soft shock of his footsteps as he carried her to the bed, felt the mattress sink under their combined weights.
His mouth moved slowly back down her to her stomach, her thighs, and then she did fight him, fought the newness and the strangeness and the frank intimacy.
He lifted his head and slid back up to look at her shocked face. “All right,” he said gently. “If you don’t want it, I won’t force you.”
Her face was creamy pink now, fascinated. He looked down at her body, smoothing over it with a lean, very dark hand, savoring its soft vulnerability.
“This is so new,” he whispered. “I never realized how soft a woman’s body really was, how exquisitely formed. I could get drunk just on the sight of you.”
She was trembling all over but not from the soft chill of the room. She felt reckless under his intense gaze.
He looked up into her eyes. “You aren’t protected, are you?” he asked softly.
It took a minute for her to realize what he was asking, and it made the situation take on alarming, very adult implications. To him this was familiar territory. But Mari was a pioneer.
“No,” she whispered unsteadily. “I’m not.”
“It’s just as well,” he murmured, bending to her mouth. “I think…it might spoil things right now to force that kind of total intimacy on you.” His hand smoothed tenderly over her breast as he probed at her trembling lips. “Don’t you want to touch me like this?”
She did, but she couldn’t say it. Her hands went slowly to his shirt and slid under it, finding the exciting abrasion of thick chest hair over warm muscle a heady combination. His mouth moved hungrily against hers at the first tentative touch, and one hand went between them to rip the fabric completely out of the way and give her total access.
His harsh breathing disturbed her, but she was intoxicated by the intimacy they were sharing. Impulsively she moved her hands and arched upward letting her breasts tease his chest, feeling the sudden acceleration of his heartbeat with wonder.
He poised over her, lifting his head. His eyes were dark with passion, his chest shuddering with it. “Do that again,” he said roughly.
She did, on fire with hunger, wanting something more than the teasing, wanting him. She felt his chest tremble, and she looked down at his darkness against her paler flesh with a sense of wonder.
“Yes, look at it,” he whispered, his voice harsh, shaken as he stared, too. “Look at the differences. Dark against light, muscle against softness. Your breasts are like bread and honey.”
As he spoke, he eased down. His heavy body surged against hers as he fitted it over her bareness, and her pupils dilated helplessly at the warm ecstasy of his full weight over her.
“Give me your mouth now,” he whispered, bending. “Let me feel you completely.”
It was a kiss like nothing she’d ever imagined in her life. She held him tenderly, her hands smoothing his thick, dark hair, her body throbbing its whole length where she could feel the powerful muscles of his body taut and smooth.
He tasted of coffee, and there was a new tenderness in him, in the lips that delicately pushed at hers so that his tongue could enter the soft, sweet darkness of her mouth. She felt it touch hers, tangle with it, and she gave herself up to a sensation that was all mystery and delight.
His hands smoothed down her sides, her back, savoring the smooth suppleness of her skin. He ached like hell, and he could have cursed himself for causing this, for forgetting how naive she was. She wanted him and, God, he wanted her! But he could make her pregnant. And part of her would hate him forever if he forced this on her. It wasn’t going to be good for her. She was so much a virgin…
His cheek slid against hers, and he rolled onto his side, holding her protectively to him, feeling her breasts crush softly against his chest.
“Hold me,” he whispered. “Just hold me until we stop trembling.”
“I want you,” she whimpered, beyond thought, beyond pride. She bit his shoulder. “I want you.”
“I know. But we can’t.” His cheek nuzzled hers, and his lips touched her tear-streaked face tenderly. He hadn’t realized she was crying until then. He drew a breath. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.
“I ache,” she sobbed.
“I could satisfy you,” he whispered. “Without going all the way.”
She sensed that. Her eyes searched his in wonder. “No,” she said after a minute. “I won’t do that to you.” She touched his face, fascinated by the look the words produced. “I’m sorry. I should have said something a long time ago. I should have asked you to stop.”
“But it was too sweet, wasn’t it?” he asked, his voice quiet and deep as he touched her face with fingers that were possessive and gentle. “So sweet, like making love with every part of us. I’ve never in my life experienced anything like it. Not even sex was ever this good.”
That shocked her, and her eyes mirrored it. “Not…even sex?”
He shook his head. “With you I think it would be lovemaking, not sex. I don’t think you and I could accept something as coldly clinical as that.”
She was so tempted. She wanted him desperately. Everybody did it these days, didn’t they? Maybe she wouldn’t get pregnant. She loved him. Loved him!
But he saw the uncertainty in her eyes and mistook it for fear. For God’s sake, where was his brain, anyway? She was a virgin. Lillian was right downstairs. Was he crazy? He ignored the feverish hunger of his body and managed to smile reassuringly as he slowly drew away from her to sit up with a hard sigh.
“No more, honey,” he said heavily and managed to laugh. “I’m too old for this kind of playing.”
Playing? She stared at him helplessly as he forced his staggered brain to function and found her gown. He put her into it with a minimum of fuss and then lifted her long enough to turn down the covers. He put her under them, smoothing them over her breasts.
He couldn’t tell her that his own vulnerability and weakness had shocked him. He hadn’t planned this, he hadn’t expected to be drawn into such a long, intimate loving. It had been loving, of a kind. He scowled, watching her, fascinated by her innocence, her helpless reaction to his touch. He’d come to her room, in fact, to tell her that he wanted to get on a friendly footing with her, to stop the intimacy that could all too easily overwhelm both of them. But the sight of her in that tub had wiped every sane thought right out of his mind. Now he looked at her and saw commitment and the loss of his precious freedom. He saw all the old wounds, the helplessness of his attraction to that tramp who’d taken him in.
With a rough curse he got to his feet, running an angry hand through his hair.
“You needn’t look at me that way,” she bit off, close to tears again but for a totally different reason. “As if I were a fallen woman. I didn’t walk into your bathroom and start staring at you.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said curtly.
She softened a little at the confession. He looked as shaken as she felt. “It’s all right,” she replied, fumbling with the coverlet. “I didn’t, either.”
“I’m old enough to know better, though,” he murmured, feeling venerable and protective as he stared down at her. He put his hands in his pockets with a long sigh. “I came up here to see if we might get on a different footing. A friendly footing, without all these physical complications.” He laughed softly. “I suppose you noticed how well I succeeded.”
“Yes,” she murmured tongue in cheek. She recalled everything she’d let him do and went scarlet, dropping her embarrassed eyes.
“None of that,
” he chided. “You’re a woman now, not a little girl. Nothing we did would make you pregnant.”
“I know that!” she burst out, feverishly avoiding his mocking gaze.
“I just wanted to reassure you.” He stretched lazily, very masculine with his shirt unbuttoned and his hair mussed. Very disturbing, watching her that way. “No one will ever know what we did in here,” he added. “Just you and me. That makes it a very private thing, Mari.”
“Yes.” She glanced up and then down again. “I hope you don’t think I do that with just anyone.”
“I don’t think that at all.” He bent and brushed his lips gently over her forehead. “It’s very exciting being the first,” he whispered. “Even in this way.”
Her face felt hot as she looked up into lazy, warm eyes. “I’m glad it was with you.”
“Yes. So am I.” He searched her eyes gently and started to lean toward her, but his survival instincts warned him against it. Instead, he stood up with a smile and went to the door. “Good night, honey. Sleep well.”
“You, too.”
He closed the door without looking back, and Mari stared at it for a long time before she drew a shuddering sigh and turned out the light.
Chapter Eight
Mari hardly slept. She felt his hands all through the night, along with a new and curious kind of frustration that wouldn’t subside. Every time she thought about Ward, her body began to throb. These new feelings frightened her because they were so unexpected. She didn’t know what to do. The urge to cut and run was very strong.
Lillian was hobbling around putting platters on the table for breakfast. She looked up, smiling, as Mari came into the room dressed in jeans and a pullover burgundy knit blouse.
“Good morning, glory,” Lillian said brightly. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
It was, in fact, but Lillian seemed to be overjoyed at something besides the great outdoors. “Yes,” Mari returned. She glanced at the empty chair at the head of the table.
“He’ll be back in a minute,” the older woman said knowingly. “Looks like a storm cloud this morning, he does. All ruffled and absentminded. Been staring up that staircase ever since he came downstairs, too,” she added wickedly.
Mari darted into the kitchen. “I’ll help you get breakfast on the table,” she said quickly, avoiding that amused gaze. At least Lillian was enjoying herself. Mari wasn’t. She was afraid.
She and Lillian had started eating before Ward came back. He looked tired, but his face brightened when he spotted Mari. He smiled without really wanting to and tossed his hat onto a side table before he sprawled into a chair. His jeans were dusty and his blue checked shirt was a little disheveled.
“I’ve washed up,” he told Lillian before she could open her mouth. “I had to help get a bull out of a ditch.”
“How did he get into the ditch?” Mari asked curiously.
Ward grinned. “Trying to jump a fence to get to one of my young heifers. Amazing how love affects the mind, isn’t it?”
Mari flushed. Lillian giggled. Ward leaned back in his chair, enjoying the view, watching Mari try to eat scrambled eggs with forced enjoyment.
“Don’t you want something to eat, boss?” Lillian asked.
“I’m not really hungry,” he said without realizing what he was giving away to the old woman, who beamed at him. “But I’ll have some toast and coffee, I guess. Sleep well, Mari?” he asked as Lillian handed him the carafe.
Mari lifted her eyes. “Of course,” she said, bluffing. “Did you?”
He shook his head, smiling faintly. “Not a wink.”
She got lost in his green gaze and felt the force of it all the way to her toes. It took several seconds to drag her eyes down to her plate, and even then her heart ran wild.
Ward watched her with evident enjoyment, caught up in the newness of having a woman react that way to his teasing. Everything was new with Marianne. Just ordinary things, like sharing breakfast, took on new dimensions. He found that he liked looking at her. Especially now since he knew exactly what she looked like under her clothes. His eyes darkened in memory. God, how exquisite she was!
Mari felt his intent stare all through her body. She could have made a meal of him, too, with her eyes. He looked so good. For all his huge size he was lithe and graceful, and she loved the way he moved. He was as sensuous a man as she’d ever known, a very masculine presence with a disturbing effect on her senses. She didn’t think her feet would ever touch the ground again. Just being near him set her on fire. She wanted to get up and touch him, put her mouth on his, feel his arms crushing her to every inch of that long, elegant body. Her fingers trembled on her fork, and she flushed with embarrassment when he noticed her nervousness.
“Come for a ride with me,” Ward said suddenly.
She looked up at him. “Now?”
He shrugged. “Lillian can answer the phone. There’s nothing pressing for today. Why not?”
“No reason at all,” Lillian agreed quickly. “Go ahead. I’ll handle the home front.”
Mari submitted before she could begin to protest. Why pretend? She wanted to be alone with him, and he knew it. Her blue eyes searched his green ones longingly, everything plain and undisguised in her oval face. He felt explosive. Young. A boy again with a special girl.
He threw down his napkin and got to his feet, hoping his helpless urgency didn’t show too much. “Let’s go,” he bit off.
Mari followed him. She barely heard Lillian’s voice behind her saying something about having fun. Her eyes were on Ward’s strong back, her body moving as if she were a sleepwalker. She was on fire for him. Whatever happened now happened. She loved him. If he wanted her, she wasn’t going to stop him. He had to feel something for her, too. He had to care just a little!
He saddled two horses in stark silence, his hands deft and firm as he pulled cinches tight and checked bridles.
When he helped her into the saddle, his eyes were dark and possessive, his hand lingering when she was seated. “You look good on a horse, honey,” he said quietly.
She looked down at him and smiled, feeling the warmth of his chest against her leg. “Do I?” she asked gently, her voice soft with longing.
“I want you, Marianne,” he said half under his breath. “I’ve thought about nothing else all night. So go slow, will you? I want to talk today. Just talk. I want to get to know you.”
That was flattering and a little surprising. Maybe even disappointing. But she had to keep it from showing so she kept smiling. “I’d like that,” she said.
He didn’t answer her. He felt the same hunger she did, but he was more adept at hiding his yearnings. He didn’t want to frighten her off, not before he made a stab at establishing a relationship with her. He didn’t know how she was going to react to what he had in mind, but he knew they couldn’t go on like this. Things had to be settled—today. Business was going to suffer if he kept on mooning over that perfect young body. Physical attraction was a damnable inconvenience, he thought angrily. He’d thought he was too old to be this susceptible. Apparently he was more vulnerable than he’d ever realized.
He swung into the saddle and led the way down the long trail that ran around the ranch. His men were out working with the cattle, getting them moved to summer pasture, doing all the little things around the ranch that contributed to the huge cow-calf operation. Fixing machines. Planting feed. Cleaning out stalls. Checking supplies. Making lists of chores. It was a big task, running a ranch even this size, but Ty Wade’s, which adjoined it, was huge by comparison. The oil business was Ward’s main concern, but he did like the idea of running cattle, as his grandfather had done so many years before. Perhaps it got into a man’s blood. Not that he minded sinking wells under his cattle. He had one or two on his own property, and Tyson Wade’s spread was proving to be rich in the black gold. His instincts hadn’t failed him there, and he was glad. Ty would never have let him live it down if he’d been wrong and the oil hadn’t been there. As it was, t
he discovery on that leased land had saved Ty from some hard financial times. It had worked out well all the way around.
Mari glanced at him, curious about that satisfied look on his hard, dark face. She wondered what thoughts were giving him such pleasure.
He laughed out loud, staring ahead. “Those old instincts never seem to let me down,” he murmured. “I think I could find oil with my nose.”
“What?”
He looked over at her. “I was thinking about that oil I found on Ty Wade’s place. It was a hell of a gamble, but it sure paid off.”
So. It was business that made him feel so good, not her company. “Is business the only pleasure in your life?” she asked gently.
He shrugged. “The only lasting one, I guess.” He stared toward the horizon. “There were some pretty hard times around here when I was a kid. Oh, we always had plenty of food, you know—that’s one of the advantages of living on a ranch. But we didn’t have much in the way of material things. Clothes were all secondhand, and I wore boots with holes in the soles for most of my childhood. That wasn’t so bad, but I got ragged a lot about my mother.”
She could imagine that he had. “I guess I was pretty lucky,” she said. “My parents were good to me. We always got by.”
He studied her quietly. “I’ll bet you were a tomboy.”
She laughed, delighted. “I was. I played sandlot baseball and climbed trees and played war. There was only one other girl on my street, and she and I had to be tough to survive with all the boys. They didn’t pull their punches just because we were girls. We had a good time growing up all the same.”
He fingered the reins as they rode along to the musical squeak of saddle leather. “I liked playing cowboys and Indians,” he recalled. “Had my own horse.”
“Which were you?”
He chuckled. “Mostly I was the Indian. I had a Cherokee ancestor, they say.”
“You’re very dark,” she agreed.
“Honey, that’s sun, not inherited. I spent a lot of time working rigs when I was younger, and I still help out on occasion. The heat’s easier stripped to the waist.”