"Come on," he coaxed, smiling.
Her eyes widened. "I won't," she choked.
"Not enough temptation for you?" He paused to unbutton his shirt, watching her eyes go homing to the thick pelt of hair on his strongly muscled chest as he tore the shirt away from it and let her look. "Now, come here," he challenged softly, and held out his arms again.
She went to him against her better judgment. He pulled her down on him and found her mouth with slow passion, opening it to the soft probe of his tongue.
She caught her breath and he felt it, and smiled. He eased her over, onto her back and while he kissed her, his hand gently took the soft weight of her breast and caressed her as if she belonged to him.
"Touch me," he whispered roughly.
Her hands slid up and down over the thick hair, the warm muscle of him. She loved the way he felt, the faint throb of his heartbeat gaining strength under her fingertips. The breeze blew gently and bird songs filled the air while she heard her own quick breathing, and Nick's, magnified in the stillness.
She was dazed with pleasure when she felt his hand guiding hers away from his chest, down over the firm muscles of his stomach, until she touched him where his passion for her was most visible.
Her hand jerked away, but he pressed it there, and his mouth became hot and insistent on her parted lips. For one long, exquisite moment, she gave in to her need and his, and let him teach her.
The intimate feel of his body had an unexpected effect on her. She burned with the need to satisfy his hunger, to give him peace. She wanted him to touch her as she was touching him, she wanted him to pull her dress away and kiss her bare body. She wanted to be under him, over him, wanted to absorb him as earth absorbs water...
She didn't realize that she was whispering it to him, telling him all her secrets, her voice breaking as her hand pressed harder against him, learning him.
He groaned and moved suddenly, his weight between her lax thighs, the press of his aroused flesh suddenly intimately demanding. She cried out at the sensations it gave her when she felt him as she'd never experienced a man in her life.
"Nick...we...can't!" she gasped.
But he didn't hear her. The area was completely isolated, deserted. His hands were under her skirt, touching her, paving the way. She heard a faint rasp and then felt him without any hint of fabric in the way.
"Nick!" she cried out.
"It's all right," he choked at her ear. His hands gentled her, trembling, as he eased closer, probing. He caught his breath and groaned helplessly. "Oh, God, Tabby, let me! Baby, let me, let... me!"
His mouth covered hers with aching tenderness while he pushed down in a feverish, mindless agony of need. She cried out, because it was difficult. But seconds later, she felt him completely possess her, and she gasped at the incredible sensations she felt when he began to move with a slow, deliberate rhythm.
He kissed her while he loved her, his tongue imitating what his body was doing. He rocked over her, his body slow and unsteady, but very expert as he drew pleasure from her. He whispered to her, his voice unsteady, broken with pleasure, coaxing her to move, to lift, to absorb him.
The rhythm was unbelievably arousing. She jerked as the sensations shot through her like swelling fire, made her body wanton, made her brain shut down completely. There was only Nick, and the heat of his possession, the sharp urgency of his movements, the pleasure he was building and building until she tensed with an anguish bordering on madness.
She heard him repeating her name as his movements suddenly became violent. The world exploded around her, inside her. She cried out and began to convulse helplessly in hot contractions that were as frightening as they were ecstatic.
He shuddered and cried out in hoarse ecstasy, his body arching over her, his face clenched with the unbearable sweetness that racked his powerful body. Eons later, he slowly collapsed on her and lay still and spent, shivering with exhaustion even as she reached the most incredible peak of sensation. She couldn't breathe, couldn't bear it! She whispered it brokenly, her nails digging into his hips, pleading with him.
He gathered her closer and put his mouth over hers, rocking on her body until she convulsed again, and again. She cried out and her eyes opened, looking straight into his and his face blurred into red waves of delight.
She came back to awareness a little later, and her body felt cold and sick. They weren't even undressed. He'd only moved the most necessary things out of the way. He'd made love to her, taken her completely, in a public park under a tree where anyone could have seen them. The fact that the park was completely deserted made no difference. It was shameful and disgusting.
She began to cry. Vaguely she heard Nick's apology, felt him rearranging her disheveled clothing, righting his own. He pulled her up and into his arms, and held her cradled against him, his face a study in remorseful anguish.
"I lost it," he said, as if he still couldn't quite believe what he'd done. "My God, Tabby, I lost it! I'm sorry. Baby, I'm so sorry!"
She cried even harder. It wasn't just the loss of her chastity, it was the knowledge that to him it was just another casual interlude. It was also the shame of where it had happened. She was just like those women who walked the streets and sold their bodies, she thought hysterically. She had no morals!
He dried her eyes, but she wouldn't meet his concerned gaze. She drew away from him and got to her feet, surprised at how shaky she felt.
"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked slowly.
"I want to go back to work," she said shakily. "I'll...I'11..."
He caught her shoulders and turned her to face him. "I hurt you."
She tore away from him, horribly embarrassed, and began to run. He caught up with her easily, but she wouldn't look at him. Tears filled her eyes, her world.
"I'll drive you home," he said shortly. "You need a shower at least. Maybe a doctor..."
"I don't need a doctor!"
"All right," he said quietly. "Come on."
They drove to her house in silence. She phoned the college and told them she'd been delayed and would be right back. It didn't matter what they thought. Daniel had as much as said he didn't want to marry her anymore. That was just as well, because she was a loose woman. Nick's woman. Nick's...lover. There was no question of her ever being anything else, because he wanted no part of marriage.
She went quickly to her bedroom and laid out clean clothes, then into the shower. She felt only marginally better when she was wearing slacks and a gray silk top, with fresh makeup. But finding Nick pacing the living room didn't help her morale, or her feelings.
"Ready to go?" he asked stiffly.
So it was difficult for him, too? Good! She gathered her purse and locked the door behind them before she settled into the seat beside him in the car. She winced a little, because he hadn't been gentle and it had been her first time.
He cursed under his breath, not missing the hint of discomfort.
"I'm sorry," he said again, his conscience killing him.
She gripped her purse, staring straight ahead. "It's...part of the process, isn't it? Pain?"
"So they say. I wouldn't know. I've never made love to a virgin."
"That wasn't love," she said through her teeth, coloring. "That was a quick roll in the hay, because you had to have a woman and I was handy!"
He cut off the engine and turned to face her, lighting a cigarette with nervous fingers before he opened the window to spare her the passive smoke. "It was quick," he agreed with stung pride. "But not because you were handy and I needed sex. And as I recall, you didn't have the breath to complain when you were screaming under me to satisfy you!"
She buried her face in her hands with anguished shame.
"My God, I didn't mean that," he said wearily, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "I didn't mean to...Tabby, you were incredible. Really, incredible. I wasn't even sure that I'd be able to satisfy you," he said curtly. "You're more woman than I've ever had before."
"I couldn't manage to draw back, to make an effort to protect you," he said slowly. He looked at her flat stomach and something terrifying leaped into his mind. "Tabby," he said slowly, "tell me that this wasn't a good time to make you pregnant."
She flushed. He looked terrified by the prospect. That registered, even through her anguish. "I don't know," she said miserably. "Oh, Nick...!"
She looked vulnerable and very frightened. Probably she was. He cursed under his breath. "That's great," he said icily. "That's just great!"
All her worst nightmares were flowing into the light. She closed her eyes, wished she could go back, wishing she could have a second chance. "You needn't worry that I'll be a nuisance if anything happens," she said through her teeth.
He jerked her around, his face pale. She seemed withdrawn and not quite rational, and fear lanced through him. He hadn't considered her deeply religious outlook.
"We made love, for God's sake!" he burst out. "It's no sin to sleep with someone!"
"Isn't it?" She couldn't look at him. "Then why do I feel ashamed and cheap?"
Her voice had a note that he didn't like. He took her by the shoulders and shook her. "Don't you do anything stupid, do you hear me?" he said angrily.
"I'm not that far gone," she replied tersely. She drew back from him with a long breath. "I want to go back to work, Nick."
He didn't want to leave her like this, but he had no choice. She wouldn't even look at him. He felt alone and uneasy, as if he'd done something unspeakable. He'd never felt like that with another woman in his life. Not that any of his women had ever been innocent.
She wouldn't talk to him. He had to hope she wouldn't go off the deep end. "All right," he said finally. "I'll drive you back." He started the car and drove her to the campus, but he didn't get out when she started to.
"You're through for today?" she asked, with her hand on the door handle, still avoiding his eyes.
"Yes."
She didn't know what to say. She murmured something and scrambled out onto the sidewalk.
Nick watched her go into the building, his eyes dark with worry. He'd fouled up her life and his own with a moment's passion. Now Tabby would avoid him like the plague, and he'd spend the next six weeks worrying himself to death about having accidentally made her pregnant. Why, oh why, hadn't he stayed in Houston and left well enough alone?
Tabby went through the motions of working for the rest of the day, but she felt sick to her stomach. She'd saved up her chastity for twenty-five years to give to the man she loved. Then in a fit of feverish passion, she'd given it to Nick in the middle of a public park.
She groaned out loud and tears stung her eyes. She had to force herself not to cry as she walked down the hall at the end of the day toward the exit. She loved Nick, but that didn't excuse what she'd let him do. Everything she believed in, everything she'd been taught had gone up in ashes in his arms. She'd wanted him, oh, so much. She hadn't been able to hold back, even when she knew what they were doing was wrong. Why, why, hadn't she tried to stop him?
To make matters worse, Nick didn't call or come over. She felt like something he'd used and thrown aside. He didn't even care enough to see if she was all right, if she'd tried to leap out a window or anything. That was proof that he didn't want her, that he didn't care.
But when the doorbell rang, she flew to answer it, just the same, certain that it was Nick come to apologize.
Instead, it was a contrite, worried Daniel. "I know you're angry at the things I said," he murmured deeply. "I'm sorry. I could see all afternoon how upset you were. I know you and that playboy detective don't have anything going on. I came to apologize."
"Oh, Daniel!" His sympathy and compassion were so unexpected that she threw herself into his arms in the open doorway and cried as if her heart would break.
"There, there," he said uncertainly, backing her into the house while he fumbled the door closed.
Nick had been on his way across the lawn, but neither of them saw him. He'd stopped at the sight of Tabby in a bathrobe throwing herself at the historian.
He stormed back into his own house and slammed the door. He'd felt lower than a snake. He wanted to make sure that Tabby was okay, after fighting his conscience all day. He was sick at his own loss of control. She probably hated him.
He didn't know what he'd been about to say when he spotted her in Daniel's arms. It went right out of his head. Now he was confused and hurt and violently jealous. Was she playing some kind of game? Was she going to take Daniel up to bed and give him the benefit of the experience she'd had with Nick?
And he knew then that Tabby wouldn't do it. Not even if she wanted Daniel to the point of obsession. No, she wasn't that kind of woman.
But she was in the man's arms and apparently happy to be there. How did he equate that with the fervent way she'd given in to him in the park? Did she love Daniel? Was what she felt for Nick only physical after all, and now that she'd satisfied it she didn't want him anymore?
He'd never realized that he had so many insecurities. It had devastated him that he couldn't stop in the park. He'd never lost his head like that, stooping to the seduction of a woman in plain view of anyone who might have walked past. And not just any woman, either, but Tabby, who was virginal. He remembered her soft cry of pain, and then her body had accepted him with such warm sweetness that he'd gone right over the edge. He'd taken her there, too, though. He'd given her heaven. He didn't have to be told to know it. He remembered the things she'd whispered to him, things she probably didn't even recall saying. He remembered the desperate clutch of her hands, the soft, aching moans under his mouth. But most of all, he remembered the heartbreaking way she'd cried when he rolled away from her. She'd been ashamed and hurt, and what he'd said to her afterward hadn't done anything to alleviate the situation between them.
She was probably running to Daniel for comfort, and how could he blame her? He'd given her a moment's pleasure that would be followed by months of shame and anguish and possibly even a child that neither of them wanted.
He didn't know what to do next. His instincts told him to march right over there and bash Daniel's head in with a scotch bottle. The trouble was that first he'd have to empty the scotch bottle.
He picked it up and studied it carefully. Good idea, he thought, nodding. He poured some of it into a glass and drained it. It felt good going down. He sprawled on the sofa and had some more.
About midnight, Nick saw a car leaving Tabby's driveway. It was about time that stuffed shirt went home.
He picked up the phone and punched in Tabby's number. He got two wrong connections. The third time he got Tabby.
"It won't work," he said, carefully enunciating his words. "I am not jealous of Daniel."
"I don't care what you are!" she raged at him. "Go away!"
"Come over and sleep with me," he murmured. "I need you, Tabby."
"I don't need you," she said huskily, her voice thick with tears. "You've been drinking, haven't you?" she asked suddenly as the slur of his deep voice got through her pain.
"Only a bottle or so of whisky," he said reasonably. "Had to empty the bottle. Didn't want to hit him with a full one."
"Hit him?"
"Lover boy," he explained. "I'm going to brain him, Tabby. You tell him to stay away from you. I don't want him touching you. You belong to me."
Her heart raced. But it was only the liquor talking. "No, I don't," she said firmly. "You go away. Leave me alone."
"Can't. Have to—" he hiccuped gently "—solve the case."
"Solve the case then, but you won't get near me again," she said stiffly. "Once was enough."
"No," he murmured. "Not nearly. So sweet, baby. So sweet! Never touched heaven like that before. Only with you, Tabby..."
Flushing, she slammed down the receiver. It rang again, but she ignored it, white-faced, and went to bed.
Never again, she told hers
elf firmly. Oh, no, Nick. Never again.
She pulled the covers over her head and closed her eyes resolutely. She wasn't going to become one of his women. Somehow, someway, she was going to get over him once and for all. If there just weren't any consequences because of her stupidity. She groaned and closed her eyes tighter as she mumbled her prayers. Foremost among them was that she'd have the strength to escape Nick's arms, and that a tiny new life wouldn't be the price of her folly.
Chapter Six
Tabby had to force herself to get up and dress and go to work the next morning. She was sick and sore and her mind wasn't on her job. She taught mechanically, but she knew that the emotional turmoil she was experiencing had to show.
It did. Her mirror told her that. She hadn't talked to Nick again since last night. He was probably at home with a humdinger of a hangover, and she didn't care. She was just glad that he wasn't on campus. Having to see him now would make her sick. How could she have forgotten all her principles and given in like that?
Because she loved him, she thought with bitter resignation. To her, it had been a surrender that was a declaration of love and commitment. But to Nick it had been another interlude, a brief moment's pleasure that carried no responsibilities. He hadn't even offered to protect her. She flushed. Actually, she had to admit, he'd been much too involved to have been capable of it. She didn't even know if that was normal behavior for him, or if he'd wanted her too much to think of the consequences or even where they were. It would make it somehow a little more acceptable to think that cool, calm Nick had gone off the deep end because of a monstrous desire for her.
That was hardly likely, though, a man of his sophistication and experience. He'd known exactly how to bring her to ecstasy, and he'd done it. She'd never dreamed that such pleasure even existed. It was probably addictive, she thought miserably, because even with its soreness, her body ached for him all over again. The memories were vivid and sweet, and her skin was ultrasensitive after having known the touch of his hands and mouth.
She agonized over the thought that she'd cut her own throat. Helen had warned her that giving in to him would only chase him away, and that was already happening. If he hadn't been drunk, he'd never have called her at all last night. He wouldn't even respect her now. He'd add her to the rank and file of his conquests, and forget her just as easily as he'd forgotten the others over the years.
Books By Diana Palmer Page 118
