Long, Tall Texans: Stanton ; Long, Tall Texans: Garon

by Diana Palmer

  “Nothing excites me more than that,” he whispered rakishly at her ear. “That I can satisfy you by suckling your pretty breast. You don’t know how flattering it is.”

  “But…you had nothing,” she whispered.

  He cleared his throat. “My source of satisfaction is in just one place,” he confessed with a dry laugh. “And that soreness does rather preclude having someone touch me, even with the best intentions.”

  She kissed his throat. “I’m sorry, just the same.”

  “No need to be, darling. In a few days, we’ll both be back to normal,” he said softly.

  “Yes.” Her fingers ran over his chest and up to smooth through his hair. She felt the strap of the eye patch and gently removed it, tossing it onto the bedside table. “Why do you wear it in bed?” she whispered. “I love to kiss you there, where the scars are.” She did that, feeling the tremor that went through him.

  “Why?” he managed. The kisses were powerfully affecting to a man who’d been sensitive about the loss of the eye for years.

  “Because you were hurt, my darling, and when I do this—” she kissed the long scar that ran from his brow down almost to his cheekbone through the wound “—it feels like I’m kissing it better.”

  He groaned and held her close.

  “I will love you every day for the rest of my life,” she whispered drowsily. “I will never stop, no matter what happens.”

  “I will love you just as much,” he promised. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed his mother’s engagement ring on her finger. “Where are we going to live, baby?”

  She relaxed against him. “I’d like to live in Nairobi,” she said simply. She smiled against his cheek. “I like your lion.”

  He laughed. “Lou likes you, too. He isn’t friendly with most people.” He smoothed over her back. “But when the kids start coming along, we might have to transfer him out of the compound where the house is. I won’t take chances with our sons.”

  “Sons, plural?” she teased, kissing his throat.

  “I want several. What do you think?”

  She reached up and kissed his hard mouth. “Me, too,” she murmured. “It’s so much fun trying to make them,” she confessed with a shy laugh.

  “And just think, I was far too hungry to go through my whole repertoire with you,” he whispered wickedly.

  Her breath caught. “The mind boggles.”

  “Everything will boggle, when we’re both back to normal,” he promised. “I’ll take an hour rousing you before I have you, next time,” he whispered. “And when you come, we’ll have to make sure the windows are closed. Because they’ll hear you all the way in downtown Manaus.”

  She shivered. “You rake!”

  “Count on it.”

  She nuzzled his shoulder. “Can you teach me, to do that to you?”

  “Honey,” he whispered, drawing her closer, “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. And delight in the lessons. You are my treasure. My very soul.”

  She closed her eyes. “I love you.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

  She sighed and smiled.

  * * *

  THE NEXT FEW days went by in a heated rush. Clarisse was still uncomfortable, so they’d spent that time talking, kissing, reminiscing. They got to know each other in the most intimate way. It was two days before the wedding. And then it all went to pot. Rourke answered his cell phone, cursed virulently in Afrikaans while he listened to the caller, made curt replies, hesitated and protested and, finally, agreed.

  “What is it?” Clarisse asked. They were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee.

  His face was harder than she’d seen it recently. He poured himself another cup, warmed hers and dropped down into the chair across from hers. “I told you that we’d been setting up surveillance in an international kidnapping ring, yes?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s my operation. I promised that I’d stay with it until the end. Things had gone quiet for months, but now the perpetrator is moving. He’s in Algeria.” His lips made a straight line. “I’m the only operative we have who’s been involved with this case from the beginning. I have to go. It’s my job.”

  She’d never found out what agency he worked for. He wouldn’t tell her. It might have been one of K.C.’s, too. Rourke was tight-lipped about things.

  “You’re…leaving?” she faltered. “But the wedding is in two days…!” She felt so hurt that he was putting his job before their life together… He might be killed!

  “I know.” He searched her worried eyes and frowned. “Tat, believe me, if there was any other way, I wouldn’t go. I’ve been on this case for over a year. This man…” His teeth ground together. “You saw some of the things that went on in Ngawa. Believe me when I tell you that this man is capable of worse atrocities than you’d ever dream could exist. Many of them involved small children, held hostage and tortured because of what their fathers knew.” His whole face contracted when he saw her go pale. “I can’t let him walk because of my personal life. I love you. I want to marry you. But I have to go in the morning. We’ll talk to Father Pete. It’s just a postponement, my darling,” he added, closing her fingers with his. “That’s all. Just a postponement.”

  Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She knew the sort of work Rourke was involved in, because she’d been in Barrera when the offensive began. “You could be killed,” she choked.

  He got up and pulled her into his arms. “I have every reason in the world to want to live right now,” he whispered into her ear. “We’ll have a wedding, a real one. You can wear that gorgeous dress and walk down the aisle to me. I’ll slide another ring on your finger—” he kissed the one that she wore now “—and we’ll have a honeymoon somewhere exotic.” He laughed softly. “I’ll ravish you,” he threatened with an earthy mock growl.

  She pressed close, her eyes lifting to his. He was so precious to her, and she understood his dedication. She couldn’t let him go without one more night to remember. “Are you still sore?” she whispered, and flushed.

  “No,” he whispered back. “Are you?”

  She shook her head. Watching him, she drew the straps of her sundress over her shoulders and let the dress fall. She was wearing nothing under it except lacy pink briefs. Her nipples were standing up like little flags.

  He shuddered at just the sight of her. “All of it,” he said through his teeth, his eye dark and hungry on her body. “All of it, Tat.”

  She was a little embarrassed to be so blatant, but she bent and removed the briefs and then stood up, letting him look.

  “Now come here,” he said in voice like velvet. “Take my clothes off.”

  Her lips fell apart.

  “You did it in Barrera the night I was drunk,” he whispered. “I want to be sober and watch you do it.”

  She was entranced. She moved buttons out of buttonholes, his belt out of the loops and, finally, got her hand under two waistbands and pulled them down.

  He was magnificent. Even more magnificent than he’d been that night in Barrera. She caught her breath, just looking at him.

  He slid out of his shoes, picked her up and walked back to the bedroom, placing her down gently on the covers. He stood over her, shivering a little with desire, as his eye ate her from head to toe. She had silky, creamy pink skin all over. Her pert little breasts were beautifully shaped, the nipples pink and tight. Her body moved on the coverlet while he looked at her, savoring the desire he read on her face.

  He eased down beside her. His mouth went down her body like fingers, touching, tasting. He moved her long legs apart and his lips smoothed over the inside of her thighs. She moaned harshly.

  He laughed. “It gets better,” he whispered.

  He touched and tasted, explored her lik
e fine china. She felt his mouth all the way up and down her spine while his hands made magic against her breasts. She arched up to give them better access while his mouth fed on her soft skin.

  She felt the press of his muscular body down her back as he moved, slowly turning her so that she was on her side, facing him.

  His expression was one of wonder. He touched her face, her high cheekbones, her mouth, with just the tips of his fingers.

  “I never thought…it would ever be like this,” she managed, shivering from the slow seduction of his touch.

  “I knew it would,” he whispered as he bent to brush his mouth lovingly across her warm, soft lips. “That was why it was such a hell. Wanting, with no hope of relief,” he said huskily. His jaw tautened as he moved back just enough to see the long, seductive curve of her body next to his in the bed. “I couldn’t even touch you…” His voice broke. He moved closer, rolling her gently onto her back. “But I dreamed of it,” he said. “Ached for it. Cursed myself for dreaming.” His mouth moved hungrily against hers. “And now, the dreams are real, Tat. Real!”

  His mouth ran down her body, possessive and slow, awakening even more sensitivity from her breasts, her flat belly. His hands found her again, roused her to such passion that she cried out and begged him to end it.

  “Slowly,” he whispered as he levered himself above her, between her long, soft legs. “Slowly, Tat. Make it last…”

  Her arms went up around his neck and she watched his face as he touched her, letting him see her responses, letting him watch her moan in agony as he promised and promised, but drew back over and over again.

  She was arching up toward him now, her whole body one silent plea for relief from the anguish of desire. Her face was red with it, her eyes open and wild. She was trembling.

  “Yes,” he whispered. His hand moved down and he positioned her. “Watch it happen,” he said softly, drawing her eyes down to his slow, agonizingly slow possession of her.

  She caught her breath and moaned so harshly that he shivered.

  “Slowly,” he whispered. He moved against her tenderly, his hips advancing, withdrawing, the fullness inside her growing and swelling until she gasped again and looked up at him with faint apprehension.

  “You can take me, darling,” he whispered, aware of his own potency. “I’m more aroused than I have been. But you’ll fit me.” He moved down slowly and shivered, his teeth grinding together. “You’ll fit me. You’ll fit me, Tat, you’ll…fit me…like a glove…!”

  With each deepening, sharp movement, he was lifting her completely out of the world and into realms that the two of them hadn’t even touched.

  “Stanton!” she cried out, shuddering, as the feeling grew so quickly, so urgently, that she was moving violently with him, her body pleading with him, her mouth open as the sensations mounted until she thought she might explode.

  “Yes,” he bit off as he saw her face, felt the sudden contractions around that part of him that was blatantly male. He bit off a curse and drove into her, his hands gripping the pillow on either side of her thrashing head, his hips going like pistons, the sound of their bodies straining the springs of the bed loud in the heated silence of the room.

  “Now,” he cried out. “Now, now, oh, God, now…!”

  She gasped and shuddered as the heat went over her like a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure, molten and hot and sweet. She convulsed under his half-seeing gaze. He went with her, shuddering, arching, shivering, as he endured the most explosive climax of his entire life.

  She was sobbing. It was so sweet, so sweet, so sweet, and then it was…gone!

  “No,” she wept, clinging to him. “No, no, no…!”

  He shuddered one last time, wringing the last silvery drops of pleasure from her as he began, finally, to relax on her damp, still-moving body.

  “Stanton,” she sobbed.

  “Shhhh,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he strove for breath. “Shhhh. I’ll make it all right. Trust me.”

  He moved again, very slowly, watching her face. She was so sensitive now that he could satisfy her with just a very few tender thrusts of his body. She shuddered, her eyes wide-open, frozen with pleasure. He did it again, smiling.

  “You like…watching me,” she whispered.

  “Yes.” He moved again, very slowly, and his one good eye was on her face, seeing the pleasure take her once more. “I love watching you. I love seeing the pleasure and knowing that I’m the cause of it. You’re beautiful, like this,” he whispered. “My Tat, sweet and soft and shivery with fulfillment.”

  “I watched…you,” she breat hed as he brought her to fulfillment one last time.

  He smiled tenderly. “I know. That was why I went up like a rocket,” he chuckled softly. “It excites me.”

  She began to relax, with one last little shiver of sensation. “You don’t feel it as much as I do,” she faltered, trying to make him understand.

  He kissed her eyelids shut. “I feel it once. A woman’s body is capable of endless satisfaction. Some men can go all night. I wish I was one of them. I’d wear you out from dusk until dawn every night of my life.”

  She touched his mouth softly. “I only meant I wished you could feel it the same way, that you had more than a taste…”

  He burst out laughing. “More than a taste? My God, I’m wrung out from the most explosive orgasm of my entire life, and you think it was only a taste?” he exclaimed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “BUT YOU’VE HAD so many women,” she said, flushing a little as she said it.

  He was leaning over her, propped on an elbow, his body still completely joined to her own. He smiled. “A long time ago, my darling,” he said softly. “Before that memorable Christmas Eve. What I did with you was relatively innocent, but I’d never felt the sensations you provoked in me.”

  “I didn’t know a thing.”

  He chuckled. “That’s what made it so exciting. Then, and now,” he said, moving his hips sensuously.

  She moaned softly and lifted toward his hips.

  He bent to her soft mouth. “Want some more candy?” he whispered, and moved again.

  Her nails bit into his lower back as he began to move on her. She curled her legs around his and he stiffened suddenly.

  She felt why. Her eyes widened with fascination. “You said you…well, you said,” she faltered, “that you could only do it once…?”

  He felt himself swelling, burgeoning inside her. He shivered. “That’s never happened before,” he whispered, searching her eyes.

  She gasped as he moved again.

  “I want it deeper this time,” he said huskily. “Harder. Rougher.” There was a wildness in him that she’d never seen. “Are you afraid?”

  She shook her head slowly from side to side, excited by the expression on his face.

  He caught a pillow in one lean hand. “Lift up, sweetheart.”

  She did. He placed the pillow under her hips, tilting them up into his.

  “It isn’t meant to hurt,” he whispered. “If it does, or if I frighten you, you say so at once. Understand?”

  “Yes.” Her blue eyes gleamed with excitement. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “I’m going to ravish you, my sweet,” he whispered, and laughed like a devil.

  “How?” she teased.

  He pushed her back onto the bed, pinning her hands above her head, and moved violently against her. “Like…this…!”

  * * *

  IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG. He was very excited, and she was immediately responsive to the unfamiliar violence of his possession. But even then, he didn’t hurt her. He was rough and hungry, and he laughed with pure delight when she wrapped her long legs around his hips and dared him to do it harder, deeper, quicker.

  He laughed when he
fell off the edge of the world with her, shuddering to a climax that shook her, shook him, shook the bed. He cried out, almost in anguish at the pleasure. Under him she was gasping, too, pleading for more, more, more…!

  He satisfied her over and over again, rolling from one side of the bed to the other with his body joined intimately to hers. One last silken contraction riveted them together in a twisted, hot contortion of satisfaction that left them wet with sweat and gasping for breath as they shivered and shivered and, finally, relaxed.

  “My God,” she whispered.

  “I thought it might frighten you, to be taken so roughly,” he mused, and then laughed. “Wildcat! You clawed me!”

  “I bit you, too,” she said, wincing as she saw the marks she’d left on his shoulder.

  “What an experience,” he said huskily, shaking his head. “I’ve gone through everything I remember from my youth and now I’m making it up as I go,” he laughed. “We’re teaching each other pleasure, Tat,” he explained when she gave him a curious appraisal. “Men aren’t born knowing what to do, and every woman is different.”

  “Different, how?” she asked with real curiosity.

  He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a worldly look.

  “Come on,” she teased. “I want to know.”

  He drew her beside him and wrapped her up in his arms with a long sigh. “Okay. Women are sensitive in different areas of their bodies. I even knew a woman once whose erotic zone was her neck.”

  “Really?”

  He saw the faint jealousy she couldn’t hide. “It was before I touched you,” he said softly. “Try to keep that in mind, okay?”

  “Sorry.”

  He kissed her nose. “Other women are sensitive here, like you are.” He touched her breast and watched the nipple peak instantly, despite the fact that she was drowsy with fulfillment.

  She caught her breath.

  “Nice to know that I can make an impression even when you’re sated, my love,” he whispered, rubbing his forefinger over the small hardness.