by Diana Palmer
She smiled back, leaning closer. She loved being near him, feeling his breath on her face, his fingers in her hair.
Blake was amazed at how receptive she was to his advances, how hungrily she met them. He hadn’t analyzed his feelings for Violet. He wasn’t going to. Not yet. But she kindled fires in his blood that he hadn’t felt since Shannon Culbertson’s death.
Shannon. His eyes grew dark and quiet as he stared over Violet’s head and memories flooded in on him. He’d loved her. He’d given his heart completely, recklessly, without any thought for the future. Shannon had died, and his life had shattered overnight. He remembered that headlong passion with faint apprehension. It was dangerous to love. Very dangerous.
Violet didn’t know what he was thinking, but she felt a sudden remoteness from him. She noticed that he was staring into space, thinking. Perhaps he was having second thoughts about the direction their relationship was taking. Was he sorry that he’d kissed her?
He felt her intent stare. He turned his head and looked down into her eyes, searching them slowly. The look was more intimate than a kiss. His body began to swell from the intensity of it.
“Is something wrong?” she asked after a minute.
His fingers touched her chin, drawing it up. “I have cold feet.”
“I don’t understand.”
He drew in a long breath. “It’s too quick, Violet,” he murmured, looking at her. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
“For feeding me trout?” she asked, wide-eyed.
He shook his head. “No. For…this.”
He bent and kissed her, very gently. He lifted his head. “I like kissing you.”
She smiled slowly. “I like kissing you, too.”
“To what end?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want to get married,” he said bluntly.
She felt all at sea, confused and uncertain.
He stared down into her wide eyes. She looked miserable and he felt confused. “Forget it,” he murmured, dropping his stare to her soft eyes. “I’m just talking. I don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
“I know about her,” she blurted out.
He scowled. “Her?”
“Shannon Culbertson,” she said, averting her gaze to the budding rosebushes. “I’m sorry it happened like that. It must have been devastating for you.”
He couldn’t think of another single person he wouldn’t have cursed for mentioning her name. But it didn’t feel at all uncomfortable to discuss Shannon with Violet. She had a tender heart. He ached for comfort. He’d never had it.
“She was beautiful,” he replied. “Young and full of fun and promise. I loved her until she was an obsession. I didn’t think I could go on living when she died.”
“But you did,” she replied. “You’re stronger than you realize.”
“You have an odd effect on me,” he murmured.
“What sort?” she asked, studying him.
One shoulder lifted and fell. His eyes went back to the landscape as he rocked the swing lazily into motion. “I don’t talk about her. I haven’t in years.”
She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, staring across his broad chest toward the distant highway. “You can’t bury the past,” she said absently. “It affects everything we do, everything we are.”
He frowned. “Did you lose someone?”
She laughed. “Me? When I was in high school, I weighed even more than I do now. My parents sent me to a private school because they thought I might not get picked on as much. But I did. There are always the beautiful people who feel privileged to comment on the less fortunate. I hated school.”
“I thought schools were cracking down on bullies.”
“If they crack down very hard, they tend to get sued,” she pointed out, with a speaking look in his direction.
He chuckled. “I don’t take frivolous lawsuits,” he reminded her.
“Plenty of other lawyers do. Then they get huge awards, which they keep the lion’s share of. Then insurance, and everything else goes sky high.”
He scowled. “Well, you have got a point.”
“I make up in intelligence for what I lack in looks,” she murmured.
He tilted her face up to his and searched her blue, blue eyes. “Violet,” he said softly, “there’s nothing wrong with the way you look. I had a bad morning and I took it out on you that day. I’ve been trying to find a way to apologize every since. You look like a woman should.”
She studied him with big, curious eyes. He was very handsome. She was fascinated by the way he was looking at her, as if he really did find her enchanting. She smiled slowly.
“Ahh,” he cautioned in a husky tone. “Looking at me like that will get you into trouble.”
“It will?” she asked hopefully.
The humor went right by him. His eyes had dropped to her full, soft mouth and he was feeling a surge of hunger. Some tiny voice was urging caution. He ignored it and pulled Violet closer. His hard mouth curved down against her soft one, teasing lightly until she relaxed and leaned against his chest. His long fingers slid into her thick, soft hair, and tugged her head farther back on his broad shoulder.
His fingers were at her nape, teasing, tracing, while his mouth slowly penetrated the tight line of her lips.
She stiffened, but he persisted. When she still wouldn’t give him what he wanted, his lean hand slid right over her full breast and contracted gently with the nipple trapped between his thumb and his hand. She gasped and shivered, giving him access to the dark inner softness of her mouth. She felt his tongue slide sensuously inside and a curious swelling sensation overtook her body.
His hand became insistent on her breast, searching for buttons. He made an opening and his fingers slid inside it, right onto the warm silkiness of her bare skin. She moaned huskily. Her arms reached up and enclosed his neck while she gave in to the unreality of being in his arms, being desired by him.
The kiss became passionate, demanding. She moaned again. Vaguely, she felt him pulling her up. He bent and lifted her, his mouth still enclosing her yielded, hungry lips. He carried her into the house, kicking the door shut behind him.
He started toward the bedroom, but his body was in agony. Too many years of abstinence had left him powerless with Violet’s mouth promising heaven. He made it to the living room and slid her onto the sofa, but there wasn’t really room for both of them on it. She was as hungry as he was, and their restless movements landed them on the carpet between the sofa and the coffee table.
He started to lift his head, but she pulled his mouth back over hers. The sensations were like waves of pleasure that rocked her in his hard arms, and she didn’t want them to stop. She didn’t want him to stop. She’d never felt such physical delight in all her life, and she wasn’t willing to give it up just yet.
Blake was feeling something similar. It had been a long time since he’d had such a willing, hungry partner. Even Shannon, although she loved him, had been receptive but not eager when he made love to her. Violet was different. She tasted of honey. He loved the feel of her mouth under his. He loved the feverish response of her body to his lightest touch. He loved the soft little noises she made, the tiny gasps that pulsed rhythmically out of her throat as his caresses became quickly more intimate.
She felt cool air on her breasts and opened her eyes just a breath. Her clothes were open all the way down the front, and her bra was unhooked. His eyes were a darkened, passionate blue as they caressed her bare breasts, feeding on their ample curves and the taut mauve rise of her nipples. He bent, his mouth opening as he eased down beside her again and took her into his mouth.
She arched completely off the floor, sobbing. “Yes,” she choked. “Yes!”
What little control he’d had left was gone at once. She was as hungry as he was. He didn’t think about afterward. He was too far gone to care about tomorrow. There was only the painful need that stretched his powerful body like r
ope over her rippling, soft body. Years of abstinence took control of his will.
His hands were deft and efficient. Within seconds, the barriers were all gone, and his mouth was moving hungrily over Violet’s soft belly, down to the inside of her thighs.
While he kissed her, he touched her, in ways and places she’d only read about. She hadn’t dreamed that the sensations would be so overwhelming. When the first ripples of ecstasy worked their way down her aching body, she was far beyond any sort of protest. She loved him. He wanted her. She was becoming a woman, truly a woman, for the first time. She wanted nothing more than to go on being kissed and touched and caressed to madness in his arms.
Somehow, it never occurred to her that the first time might be uncomfortable; or that he might not know it was her first time. Most women were experienced by the time they reached Violet’s age. But Violet was a late bloomer.
She felt the sudden penetration with a hungry delight that turned quite suddenly to discomfort, and then pain. She stiffened and gasped, her nails digging into his back.
Shivering with desire, he managed to lift his head and look into her wide, shocked eyes.
He felt the barrier. Why hadn’t he realized how difficult this might be? Because he was out of his mind with desire, that was why. And he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t…!
His knee pressed her legs wide apart, despite her silent protests, and his hand went quickly between them. He watched her face the whole time, watched fear and pain slowly give way to sharp pleasure.
Her nails bit into his back again, but not in pain this time. She was shuddering rhythmically with every sharp, deep downward movement of his hips. Her legs widened without any more coaxing. Her hips arched up to meet his. And still he held her eyes, watching her as he took her.
It was the most erotic experience of his entire life. Despite his experience, and he had some, it was new territory for him. He had inhibitions as surely as Violet had. Most of his encounters had been in dark rooms, at night. It was the first time he’d gone this far in broad daylight, and that was as erotic as the sight of Violet’s pink nudity under him on the carpet. He began to shiver with each rough movement as he found his way ever deeper into her soft body.
“I’ve never done this…in broad daylight. And I’ve never watched, Violet,” he bit off, his deep voice strained as he looked into her blue eyes.
She swallowed, hard. Her lips were parted on gasping breaths as the pleasure built and began to funnel up in her. She stared into his eyes, shivering, climbing some invisible ladder of pleasure toward what felt like an unbearable goal.
“I’ve…never,” she choked.
His jaw clenched as the pleasure began to bite into him. “I know,” he groaned harshly. His eyes closed on a wave of ecstasy that arched him above her, his hips pinning hers violently as he drove for fulfillment. “God…I can’t…stop!” he moaned.
Violet’s knees drew up on either side of him, enhancing the madness of delight. She arched again and again, her eyes wide, her mouth wide, as she looked into his eyes. They were almost black with desire.
“I feel you,” she whispered brokenly. “I feel you…in me!”
The anguish tripled at the erotic little whisper. His body ground hers into the carpet with violent, urgent motions that were more desperate than experienced. Her back was going to be raw, he thought in one last burst of sanity. Then he felt her convulse under him and cry out, and contract around him. He exploded, his eyes closed, his body helplessly impaling her in one last furious downward movement that lifted him to a level of climax he’d never known.
Violet felt him, tasted him, bonded with him in that space of seconds. The pleasure slowly fell to bearable levels and she wanted to weep, because it was so exquisite, and so very brief. She looked at him while he gave in to his own need, her eyes hungry on the length of his body, rippling muscle and thick hair on his chest, down to the flat stomach that was pressed so close to hers, to the long, powerful legs lying between her white thighs.
It should have been embarrassing, to see them like that. But she was only fascinated by the newness of intimacy.
She looked back up to see his face clenched, damp with sweat, as he slowly came back to himself. His eyes opened, dark, somber, sated.
She reached up and touched his mouth. She felt his body shivering in the aftermath, as hers was. He looked…shattered.
He collapsed on her, his forearms catching most of his formidable weight. His face pulsed at her throat, damp and sucking at breath. He shuddered. Her arms slid around him, cradling him. She felt him against every inch of her. She felt him, still inside her, still pulsing softly.
“Gosh,” she whispered, awed. Her legs curved around the back of his and her body lifted in soft entreaty.
“Optimist,” he murmured.
She laughed softly. She knew what he meant. Men spent themselves, and then it took a long time before they were capable again. She’d never indulged, but she’d heard other women talk.
“When I felt you stiffen, I could have shot myself,” he said at her ear. “I lost it. I knew you were a virgin, and I still couldn’t stop.”
Her hands smoothed his dark, wavy hair. She looked up at the ceiling, vaguely aware of the cats moving around the room, of a breeze fluttering the curtains, of a distant car passing on the highway on the horizon. She’d never been so close to another human being. She knew, finally, what it was to be a woman. She’d never dreamed that it would be Blake who taught her how to make love.
He drew in a long breath and rolled over onto his back, bringing her over him so that he could look up into her wide blue eyes.
His hand went between them and came up with a faint trace of blood.
She blushed.
He searched her eyes for a long time. “I didn’t have the presence of mind to think about protection, either.”
She didn’t know what to say. She was still halfway in and halfway out of a new reality.
His hands slid down her body to her wide, soft hips. “Lift up,” he murmured sensuously.
She did, curious, until she saw his eyes go hungrily to her breasts. His hands slid up to them, cupping them softly. He eased her onto her back and his mouth made a meal of them, kissing and tasting until she rippled all over with renewed desire.
He groaned as his body responded with renewed arousal and sudden urgency. “Are you sore?” he asked roughly.
“I…well, I don’t…ouch!” she gasped when he touched her where the tissues were torn from their first intimacy.
He ground his teeth together. “Sorry,” he whispered.
She could feel how hungry he was. “You can,” she whispered back. “It’s okay.”
He felt those words to the soles of his feet. She would have let him, despite the pain. It humbled him to know that.
He bent to her mouth and kissed her softly, with exquisite tenderness. She tugged at his hips, but he didn’t respond.
“No,” he said softly, and he smiled at her. “Not unless you can take as much pleasure from my body as I take from yours.”
She was fascinated by the reply.
He kissed her again, very softly, and then rolled away from her. He tugged his clothes back on and stood up to finish the fastenings. He looked down at her as she pulled her discarded dress against her breasts and stared at him confusedly.
“I’ll make some coffee,” he said quietly, aware of her sudden embarrassment. “Then we’ll talk.”
He walked away. She struggled quickly back into her things, noting the curious stares of the twin Siamese cats, who probably had never seen such confusing behavior from their resident human pet. It made her self-conscious.
By the time he came back with a tray, she was sitting on the couch feeling waves of embarrassment and shame.
He sat down beside her, fixed a cup of coffee the way he knew she liked it, and handed it to her. He saw the tears she was trying not to shed.
He reached over for a tissue from the box he kept by the lam
p and wiped her eyes with a tenderness that said more than words.
“I haven’t had a woman for over two years,” he said bluntly. “I’m sorry. I lost control the minute I started kissing you.”
“It’s all right,” she choked, sipping coffee. “I didn’t exactly fight for my honor.” Tears started rolling again, staining her cheeks while she tried not to let him see how upset she was.
He took the coffee away from her, tugged her into his arms, and dragged her over into his lap. He held her while she cried, rocking her in the silence of the room. He felt satiated. His body was more relaxed than it had been in years. He felt young, vital, full of fire. He smiled at the difference a few torrid minutes had made in their tumultuous relationship.
“I’m sorry,” she choked. “I’m acting like a child.”
He kissed her wet eyelids. “First times are traumatic,” he murmured, drying her eyes again with the tissue.
“Was yours?” she asked, curious.
He laughed. “The first time I tried to have sex, I was seventeen. I was dating an older girl and we were in the back seat of my parents’ car at a country drive-in, one of the last few in Texas,” he recalled. “We were going at it hot and heavy when my zipper stuck.”
She stared at him, fascinated.
He laughed again. “I couldn’t get it to budge. I couldn’t get my jeans off with it zipped. And if I broke the zipper, I’d never have gotten past my mother to my room.” He shook his head. “She was experienced, and furious. She called me a clumsy fool and said she couldn’t imagine why girls went out with me. I took her home and never phoned her again. She didn’t know it was my first time, which was all that saved my pride.”
“I can’t imagine you being clumsy,” she said, fascinated by him.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “We all start somewhere,” he mused lazily. He traced around her soft mouth. “But you were my first virgin,” he whispered, holding her eyes.
Her lips parted. “I was?”
He nodded. He pushed back her disheveled hair. “I wasn’t sure I knew enough to spare you the pain.”
