Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  She felt his hands slide under her hips to cradle them as his mouth slowly fitted itself to hers and opened it to the slow probe of his tongue.

  At the same time, he thrust down, tenderly, and felt her body jerk. He did it again. She gasped softly and he felt her legs move inside his. The third time, she made a sound he'd never heard from her lips and her nails bit into his upper arms before they slid hungrily to the thick hair on his chest.

  He lifted his head, breathing roughly. His hips moved faintly from side to side and she sobbed, arching up. Whatever she was feeling, it wasn't pain. Her hands were pulling at him, not push­ing.

  His lips brushed her eyes, her cheeks, her open mouth as he moved very slowly, very sensuously, into total possession. She wasn't reacting as if it hurt at all. His powerful legs curved closer around hers as he shifted her. She moaned unsteadily and a tiny shiver of pleasure echoed in his own body as she followed the quick, tender movement with one of her own.

  "Is it hurting?" he whispered at her mouth.

  "No," she choked. "Oh, no, not at all! It's...wonderful!"

  He nibbled her lower lip as he moved again. "Can you feel me inside you?" he whispered outrageously.

  "Of all the things to ask...!" she gasped.

  He bit her upper lip tenderly. "It isn't a ritual of silence, honey," he said huskily. "I like that husky little note in your voice when I move on you. Tell me what you're feeling," he coaxed. "Talk to me."

  "Oh, I...can't...talk!"

  "Why not?"

  Her hands slid around to the powerful muscles of his back and she arched sinuously, shivering. "I'm on fire," she choked, her eyes closed as she sought some lofty, distant goal of pleasure. "I ache everywhere. Such a sweet ache...oh, yes! Do that! It's...so...good, so good, so good...!" Her voice climbed wildly as she began to shiver rhythmically with every slow thrust. "I've never wanted anything as much...as I wanted you. For so long, Judd!" She gasped, lifting up eagerly. "Am I doing it right?"

  "Yes. You're doing fine!" Her pleasure enhanced his own. He hadn't expected her to enjoy it this much, especially her first time. He felt proud of his own skill as she moved with him, her tiny gasps of pleasure were like music...

  "Oh!" She stilled suddenly, biting her lower lip hard, as plea­sure suddenly became stinging pain. She stiffened. "I'm sorry. That hurts, Judd!" she sobbed, disappointed.

  "Yes, and I can feel why," he said gently, hesitating. His breath came in rough gasps. He couldn't hold out for much longer, but he didn't want to hurt her any more than he had to. With sud­den inspiration, he bent to her shoulder and his teeth clasped on the soft flesh.

  "Judd, what are you doing...? Ouch!" she exclaimed, and gasped with pain. But only seconds later, she felt him deep in her body, completely in possession of her. While she'd concen­trated on her shoulder, he'd broken the tiny barrier that separated them. She shivered once and then relaxed as he moved firmly and rhythmically against her, pleasure replacing pain with shocking immediacy. She began to move with him, frantically, as the little bites of pleasure increased by the second, lengthening and promising something close to heaven as the ur­gency grew.

  "That doesn't hurt," she whispered, and suddenly laughed as the pleasure grew unexpectedly. Her lips found his neck and kissed it hungrily. Her body was leaping like a wild thing as he moved roughly against her. "Yes! It's so sweet!" she choked, lift­ing to his possession. "Oh, don't...stop!" she wept. "Don't stop, don't...!"

  "As if I could!" he bit off at her ear.

  The pleasure had him in its mad grip, now, and he was sud­denly driving for satisfaction with total disregard for her vir­ginity and his own concern for it. But she didn't seem to mind. She was making little rhythmic whimpering noises that coin­cided with his sharp, deep, measured thrusts, and her body was begging for his with every downward motion. She whispered to him, explicit, exciting things that would shame her later, in cold daylight. She went with him all the way, lifting, moving, surg­ing, as the pleasure built into waves of urgency that sought a shadowy, distant goal that she couldn't...quite...reach.

  Then, when she was mindless and frantic, she was suddenly there, right there, caught up in the grip of madness that brought a sobbing little scream from her tight throat. She wished she could see him. She wished he could see her. She heard the springs going like pistons as he drove for fulfillment. She heard his harsh, desperate gasps, felt the rigor of his body, just before blinding lights exploded behind her closed eyes and she arched convulsively and sobbed out the ecstasy of complete satisfac­tion at his ear.

  It went on and on and on. She couldn't stop moving under him, even as he went rigid and shuddered over her. His skin was damp with sweat. He was breathing harshly, groaning. Her body pulsed with silvery delight, with utter physical joy. She was part of him. She felt him swell, burst, inside her. She cradled him, heavy in her arms, shivering in the sweet, throbbing aftermath of the most explosive pleasure she'd ever known in her young life.

  She slid her legs around his, her arms close at his back. She kissed his chest, his throat, his chin with lips that were soft and numb with helpless delight, with love.

  He drew in a long, shuddering breath and the pressure of him increased suddenly the length of her body, but only for a few sec­onds. He rolled away with a rough expulsion of breath and lay there, boneless, suddenly keenly aware of what he'd just done.

  It didn't help that he was sated to the very marrow of his bones, or that he knew she'd experienced the same fulfillment that he had. It didn't help that she'd been a virgin, and he'd made her climax the first time he had her. He'd taken advantage of her, and he had no right to, not even under the circumstances.

  "Damn!" he ground out.

  "And now it's the hair shirt and the flail," she said on an au­dible sigh. "You're just going to lie there and feel guilty, after you've given me an orgasm my very first time."

  He blinked. Surely she hadn't said that? "How do you know what an orgasm is?" he asked bluntly.

  "How can I not know, with the subject coming up on every talk show and in every magazine on the newsstand?" She rolled over and pillowed her head on his damp shoulder, curling into his powerful body as naturally as if she'd done it all her life. "Virgins are supposed to have a hard time and bleed a lot, and then cry afterward. I know because two girls in my computer class are living with men, and they said so. They thought I was nuts because I hadn't had sex, at my age."

  He smoothed her hair absently, trying not to feel proud of him­self. "I don't read magazines."

  Her fingers tangled in the thick curling hair that covered the powerful muscles of his chest. He arched involuntarily at the pleasure of the caress. "You do feel guilty, don't you?" she per­sisted.

  He sighed. "Yes. I feel guilty. I had too much to drink and all the walls came down."

  "It had to happen sometime," she said softly. "And you said yourself, we're married. I couldn't very well do it with anybody else."

  Especially not with damned Grier, he was thinking, and felt a primitive burst of pleasure that her first time wasn't going to be with the other man.

  "I'm glad I waited, Judd," she whispered huskily. "I never dreamed it would be that good my first time. It was incredible! Just incredible!"

  He was glad, too, but he didn't know how to admit it.

  Her hand curled closer. "I'm so sleepy, and my body throbs every time I breathe, with these fantastic little jolts of pleasure," she whispered. "Is it normal?"

  After that earthquake of passion, he thought amusedly, it had to be. He was sleepy himself.

  "It's normal," he replied.

  "Can I sleep with you?"

  His voice was drowsy and amused. "You just did."

  She hit his chest gently. "All night," she added.

  He drew in a long breath. He didn't want to be alone tonight. He'd only lie awake and brood over the events of the day. Be­sides that, the deed was done. What difference did it make now if she slept in his arms. He was so relaxed, so fulfilled,
that he could barely keep his eyes open. His body throbbed, too, with satiation. He couldn't remember a time when a woman had given him such wild delight.

  "You can stay," he said.

  She smiled against his shoulder. She might have offered to put on a gown first, but she slid into sleep almost at once, oblivious to the hard, taut, brooding face of the man beside her.

  The light fluttered against her heavy eyelids. Christabel moved restlessly and then groaned as unfamiliar twinges of dis­comfort made themselves felt. She opened her eyes and Judd was standing there in jeans and his black T-shirt, unmoving.

  "Hi," she said with faint self-consciousness.

  "Hi," he replied. He wasn't smiling.

  "What are you doing?"

  His heavy brows were drawn together. "Watching you sleep," he said abruptly. "I've got breakfast."

  "Coffee, too?" she murmured sleepily.

  "Coffee, too. Come on in when you're ready."

  He turned, reluctantly it seemed, and went back out again. She moved the sheet aside and noticed that she was nude. There was a noticeable stain on the white sheets. Maude would see that. She grimaced. It was a secret. She didn't want to share it with anyone just yet, not even Maude.

  She had a quick shower and then climbed into clean clothes, pausing to strip the bedclothes from the mattress and toss them into the washer before she went down the hall to the kitchen.

  The delicious smell of cooked bacon and bread filled the kitchen. She sniffed and smiled. "You're getting better," she re­marked, noting the golden tan of the biscuits as she sat down beside him at the table.

  "You burn a batch of biscuits every single damned day for a month and you learn how to cook them eventually," he said carelessly. He watched her pour coffee, his eyes intent on her face. He smiled involuntarily at the way she looked, freshly scrubbed, no makeup, with her hair long and clean and flyaway. She looked older this morning, more mature. More sexy. That made him feel guilty and he turned away.

  She glanced at him and caught the intent scrutiny. Her hand went to her hair. "I didn't stop to put on makeup," she said, mis­reading the stare.

  "I was thinking how fresh you look," he murmured.

  She smiled. "Thanks."

  He didn't smile back. He looked more uncomfortable than ever. He drew in a long breath. The look in his black eyes wasn't definable. "Well, there goes your annulment, Mrs. Dunn," he mused, using her married name for the first time in five years.

  She looked down at her coffee cup and added sugar to it. "I don't care," she said huskily. "It was worth it."

  There was a long pause. Her eyes went to his lean face abruptly as she wished, hoped, he might echo her sentiments. But he didn't. However, he did seem confused. There was an odd, steady warmth in his black eyes that had never been there before. It wasn't affection. It was...something more. Something she couldn't read.

  "Is Maude coming back for lunch?" he asked.

  "Yes. But she's going to take a plate back over there for her sister to have for supper."

  He nodded slowly. His narrowed eyes were all over her face, slow and possessive. "You didn't invite Grier over?" he asked sarcastically. There was a bite in his tone.

  She flushed. "No."

  "Going to take him dinner?" he persisted.

  "Maude said she'd take him a plate by on her way back to her sister's," she replied, flustered by his level look.

  His black eyes went back to his plate. He didn't say anything. But he smiled faintly.

  She stirred her coffee unnecessarily long. Was he still jealous of Grier even now? Could he want her to himself, and that was why he was asking so many pointed questions? She had to admit, she wanted very much to have him to herself. It prom­ised to be a magical day, if she could get past that sudden cold reserve he was showing her this morning.

  He ate without further comment, and so did she. When they finished, she washed dishes and he rinsed and dried them, side by side at the sink overlooking the barn out back.

  "If we could afford it, I'd buy you a dishwasher," he commented.

  She smiled. "I don't mind doing it like this. Modern conven­iences would only ruin me. I'd become a worthless layabout!"

  He chuckled, bumping her playfully with his hip. It was the first time he'd ever done that, and she tingled all over with the joy of intimacy.

  "Okay. We'll buy you a pair of new boots instead," he added, glancing down at her worn ones with the toes permanently turned up from being soaked and dried several times during rainstorms.

  "What? When these are just getting broken in good?" she ex­claimed. "Heaven forbid!"

  He studied her radiant face with eyes so tender they made her heart ache. "You never ask for a thing," he said softly. "I felt so damned guilty about that ring I bought Tippy. I never meant for you to know about it. Diamonds and emeralds for her, when you don't even own a decent winter coat."

  "I'd look terrible in diamonds and emeralds," she commented, trying to defuse a potentially explosive discussion. He might not have slept with Tippy, but he'd given her a ring. He had too many principles to sleep with another woman when he was married. He hadn't even given her a birthday present, and she'd noted the lack of one under the Christmas tree, too. That had hurt. Besides, he was guilty about last night, and it showed.

  "You're avoiding the issue. That's not like you."

  She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes. "I don't want to argue," she said, trying to put a turbulence of new emotions into words. "Not after last night."

  He hesitated, his face growing more grave by the second. "Listen, Christabel," he began slowly. "About what happened..."

  She ignored the look, going up on tiptoe. She nibbled at his hard mouth softly and then with deliberate sensuality, opening her lips and fitting them deliberately to his with sudden bold­ness. His breath caught. She caught her own, expecting to be put firmly away. But his reaction was shocking. He threw down the soapy cloth he was holding and crashed her against the lean length of him, soapy hands and all, wrapped her up tight, and kissed her passionately, hungrily, until she gasped for air.

  His powerful body shivered once, faintly, and she knew im­mediately that he wanted her. He wasn't even trying to hide it. Apparently he was as vulnerable as she was, and it made her wild with pride to realize it. His black eyes splintered with desire as they searched hers.

  She reached up to him again. Her mouth opened as his cov­ered it. She moaned huskily under the furious, hard crush of his lips, and his arms enfolded her completely, lifting her half off the floor.

  She was dying for him. There was no reserve, no shyness, no coy flirting. Her arms contracted feverishly around his neck.

  He lifted his head just enough to see her flushed, submissive face, and his whole face clenched with desire.

  "I want you," she whispered huskily, shivering. "Let's go back to bed. I want you so much, Judd! I want to take off my clothes and let you do anything you like to me, right now, in broad daylight!"

  He actually groaned. Visions of unspeakable delight danced in his head at just the prospect. But before he could weaken enough to do anything about it, the sound of a car coming up the driveway froze him in her arms.

  He frowned. "Maude?" he murmured hoarsely.

  "Not this early, surely," she began.

  He lifted an eyebrow. "Haven’t looked at a clock yet, have you?"

  "We just had breakfast," she began.

  He nodded toward the clock on the stove. It was ten o'clock in the morning.

  She gasped. "Oh, dear. And I haven't even started to heat up the turkey and dressing or put the rolls out to rise...!"

  "What a good thing Maude came early " he said abruptly, and put her down firmly. He was smiling, but his whole expression was one of barely contained sensual desire.

  "What will she think when she sees us just now eating break­fast?" she exclaimed.

  He gave her a long, unsmiling look, and the whole anguish of the day before slid over him like cold mol
asses. "We can tell her that we were up late talking about what happened in Victo­ria," he suggested.

  She winced. She'd actually forgotten the events of the day be­fore, the loss of control that had sent them careening into each other's arms. How could she have forgotten?

  "One day at a time, Judd," she suggested gently. "You'll get through it."

  He didn't reply. A car door slammed. By the time Maude came in the back door, they were finishing up the breakfast dishes in a restless silence.

  Maude paused in the doorway, feeling like an intruder and not knowing why. She frowned. Judd didn't look upset, but she knew he must be.

  "You okay?" she asked him gently.

  He smiled faintly. "I’m getting by. We just had breakfast. We were up late."

  "Talking, I don't doubt," Maude agreed as she went to the re­frigerator, so that she didn't see the guilty looks on their faces. "I'm glad you didn't stay up in Victoria by yourself. You don't need to be alone."

  "That's what I thought," he agreed.

  She glanced at the two of them and her eyes were specula­tive, but she didn't say a word. There was so much tension in the air that it was almost palpable. She just nodded and started transferring food out of the refrigerator to the kitchen table.

  Four hours later, with dinner eaten, if not with relish by two late-breakfasters, Maude was making up a plate to carry to her sister.

  "I'll only be gone long enough to take this to my sister," she said, and wondered why Judd looked relieved and Christabel looked crushed at the announcement.

  "Good," he said abruptly. "Christabel doesn't need to be here alone, even with Jack Clark in jail. Both of you remember to keep the doors and windows locked. I'll have a word with Nick before I leave."

  "Are you going now?" Christabel asked him, trying not to sound as if her world was shattering. Which it was.

  "Right now," he told her without meeting her eyes. "I never should have come!"

  "Do you want me to take a plate to Cash Grier?" Maude asked suddenly.

  "Don't bother with that," Christabel said miserably. "He can come over for supper."

  Judd's eyes flashed furiously, but he set his lips together and didn't say another word. He left the room to get dressed.