by Diana Palmer
She tensed a little. “You’re still wearing your work clothes,” she said. Her voice sounded as odd as she felt. “Why?”
“We had a fence down and we didn’t know it until the sheriff called and said we had cattle strung up and down the highway,” he told her. “It’s taken two hours to get them back in and fix the fence. That’s why it took me so long to get here. Vivian had been calling me on my cell phone since dark, but I was out of the truck.”
“Don’t you have a flip phone as well as the one installed in your truck?” she wondered aloud.
He chuckled. “Sure. It’s at home recharging.”
She smiled drowsily. “Thank you for coming over. I’m sure you didn’t feel like it after all that.”
His broad shoulders lifted and fell. “I couldn’t leave you here alone,” he said simply. “And Vivian was in no sort of shape to come.” His lean hand smoothed her wavy dark hair. “She thinks you cut her out with Carl, but that’s just the way she is.”
“I know.” She sighed. “She’s so pretty that she takes it for granted that the boys all want her. Most of them do, too.”
“She’s spoiled,” he replied. “I was hard on Bob and Charles, but I’ve made a lot of allowances for Viv, simply because she was the only girl in the family. Maybe that was a mistake.”
“It’s not a mistake to care for people,” she pointed out.
“So they say.” His fingers tangled in her soft hair. “Want something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” she replied. Her fingers spread involuntarily in the thick hair over his breastbone, and his intake of breath was sharp and audible.
His body tensed again. She and Carl had kissed, but she’d been careful not to let things go very far. In fact, she hadn’t felt any sort of strong physical attraction to the football star, which was strange, considering how much he meant to her. With Mack, she experienced sensations she’d never felt before. She felt hot and swollen in the most unusual places, and it puzzled her. The sudden tension she noticed in the man holding her puzzled her, as well. Mack didn’t say a word, but she could feel his heartbeat increase, hear the rough sound of his breathing.
She let her face slide down his muscular arm, and her curious eyes met his good one. It was narrow and unblinking and vaguely intimidating. Even as she watched, his gaze went to where her robe was open and one of her breasts in its lace-trimmed satin lay soft and warm against his chest.
Involuntarily, she followed his intense scrutiny and saw what she hadn’t realized before—the gown had slipped so far down that her nipple, hard and tight, was visibly pressing into the thick hair over his chest.
He looked into her stunned eyes, and the hand in her hair tightened. “Didn’t you do this with your boyfriend?” he asked bluntly.
“No,” she said shakily.
“Why not, if you loved him?” he persisted.
She frowned worriedly. It was becoming increasingly hard to think at all. “I didn’t feel like this with him,” she confessed in a whisper.
Mack’s face changed. His hand in her hair arched her face to his and tugged it into the crook of his arm. He shifted, so that the bodice came completely away from one pert little breast, and his arm tightened, moving her skin sensuously against him.
She gasped. Her nails bit into his chest, and her lips parted in shock and delight. Involuntarily, she arched closer, so that her breast dragged roughly against his skin.
The hand in her hair began to hurt. His body tensed, and a faint shudder rippled through him.
His jaw clenched, and he fought his hunger. She realized that he wanted to feel her against him without the fabric between them, and it was what she wanted, as well. She forgot about wrong and right, about decency, about everything except the pleasure they were giving each other here, in the quiet room with the silence only broken by the sound of the rain outside the window and their breathing.
“I should be shot for doing this, and you should be shot for letting me,” he said through his teeth. But even as he spoke, his free hand was stripping the robe and gown to her waist. His gaze fell to her naked breasts, and he shuddered again, violently, as his arm suddenly tightened and dragged her breasts against his hair-roughened chest in a feverish caress.
She moaned harshly. Her nails bit into the hard muscles of his upper arms as he crushed her against him and buried his face in the thick hair at her ear. He held her, rocked her, in an aching excess of desire.
Both arms were around her now. She slid her arms around his neck and clung for dear life. She couldn’t catch her breath at all. It was the most intense pleasure she’d ever known. She trembled with desire.
The embrace was fierce. They held each other in a tense silence that seemed to throb with need. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his strong neck, and her eyes closed as she lay against him, unafraid and unashamed of the growing intimacy of the embrace.
He could feel his body growing harder by the second. If he moved her any closer, she’d be able to feel it. He didn’t want that. It was years too soon for the sort of intimacy they were leading up to. He could barely think at all, but the part of his brain that still worked was flashing with red warning lights. She was seventeen, just barely, and he was twenty-three. She wasn’t old enough or experienced enough to know what was about to happen. He was. He couldn’t take advantage of her like this. He had to pull away and stop while he still could.
Abruptly, he shot to his feet, taking her with him. He held her, swaying on her feet, just in front of him. For one long, tense moment, his gaze went to her taut, bare breasts and his face seemed to clench. Then he pulled the straps up and replaced them on her shoulders, easing the robe into place. He tied it with swift, sharp movements of his big hands.
She stared at him, too overwhelmed by the intimacy and its abrupt end to think clearly. “Why did you stop?” she asked softly. “Did I do something wrong?”
Her pale green eyes made him ache as they searched his face. He caught her by the waist and took a slow, deliberate breath before he spoke. “Didn’t they teach sex education at the orphanage?” he asked bluntly.
Her face flamed scarlet. Her eyes, like saucers, seemed to widen endlessly.
He shook his head. She was so deliciously naïve. He felt a generation apart from her instead of only six years. “A man can’t take much of that without doing something about it, Nat,” he said gently. “Looking isn’t enough.”
She was embarrassed, but she didn’t drop her eyes. “I never could have done that with Carl,” she said, feeling vaguely guilty about it. “I enjoyed kissing him, but I never wanted him to do anything else. I didn’t like it when he tried to.”
He ached to his boots. His hands contracted on her shoulders. “You’re only seventeen,” he reminded her. “I know Carl was special to you, but you aren’t really old enough for a physical relationship with anyone.”
“My mother was just eighteen when she had me,” she pointed out.
“This is a different world than hers,” he countered. “And even for an innocent woman, you’re remarkably backward.”
“Weren’t you, at my age?” she asked in a driven tone.
He pursed his lips and studied her face. “At your age, I’d already had my first woman. She was two years my senior and pretty experienced for a place like Medicine Ridge. She taught me.”
She felt her heartbeat racing madly in her chest. She hadn’t expected him to be innocent, but it was shocking to have him speak about it so bluntly.
His lean fingers brushed over her cheek. “And when you’re old enough,” he said in a strange, caressing tone, “I’ll teach you.”
Those shocking words from the past resonated in her mind as she looked at him in the dimly lit study. I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you.
While she was reliving the past, he’d gotten out of his chair and moved around the desk. He was propped against it, his jacket and tie off, his arms folded, watching her.
“Oh,” she said, blinking. “Sor
ry. I was lost in thought. Literally.” She laughed softly.
He didn’t smile. “Come here, Nat.”
She measured the distance to the door and then laughed inwardly at her cowardice. She’d adored this man for so many years that she couldn’t imagine letting anyone else touch her, ever. Besides, she assured herself, he had Glenna to satisfy those infrequent urges he’d once spoken of so bluntly. He wanted to talk without being overheard by Whit in case he came back unexpectedly, that was why he wanted her closer.
With a self-mocking smile she came to a stop less than arm’s length away and looked at him.
He let his gaze encompass her, from her flat moccasins to the thrust of her breasts against the thin sweater. The top two buttons were undone, hinting at the cleavage below.
“I shouldn’t leave Viv alone too long,” she began.
He ignored the hint. His fingers spread along her cheek and his gaze dropped to her soft mouth. “Viv can wait,” he replied quietly. His thumb abruptly moved roughly across her lips, sensitizing them in a shock of desire.
His good eye narrowed. “Go and lock the door,” he said in a tone he hadn’t used with her since the night Carl had died.
She wasn’t going to be dictated to, she told herself. Even Mack wasn’t going to be allowed to tell her what to do!
So it came as a surprise that she closed the door and locked it, her back to him. She was almost shaking with desire. She leaned her hot forehead against the cold wood of the door, hearing the jerk of her breath in her throat.
She didn’t hear him approach, because the thick carpet muffled the sound of his footsteps. But she felt him at her back, felt the heat of his powerful body as both arms went past her to the door. He moved deliberately close, so that his body made contact with hers from her shoulders to her thighs. The contours of his body changed instantly, and she knew, even in her innocence, that what they shared was something rare.
“And now you know why I put you away so quickly that night, don’t you?” he asked quietly.
She swallowed, her body involuntarily responding to his need by arching toward him. “Yes. I do now.”
His hands slid to her flat belly and pulled her closer to him.
“You felt this way all those years ago?” she said, realizing.
“Yes.” His hands smoothed to her rib cage and hesitated. “I accumulated a fair share of experience when I was younger,” he continued. “But in recent years, sex has become a more serious matter to me. I’ve gone hungry. You were innocent and curious, and I almost lost control with you. I didn’t feel comfortable letting you see how tempted I was—especially under the circumstances.”
“I’m still innocent,” she reminded him without turning.
“And just as curious,” he concluded for her. His hands flattened over her rib cage and became possessive. “But tonight, I’m going to satisfy your curiosity. Completely.” And he turned her around.
Chapter 7
Natalie caught her breath at the look on Mack’s face. The naked hunger in that one beautiful dark eye was almost frightening.
His big, lean hands framed her face as he searched her eyes. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he said softly. “I’d cut off my arm before I’d ever hurt you.”
“I know that.” She studied him worriedly. “But I can’t—”
His lips caught the words and stopped them. She felt his hands drop to her throat and then to her shoulders, smoothing up and down the skin left bare by her short-sleeve sweater. He was slow and tender and sensual. It was like a dance in slow motion, a poem, a symphony.
The door was hard at her back as he moved closer, trapping her between his body and the wood. One long leg inserted itself confidently between both of hers with a lazy movement that was as arousing as the kiss they were sharing.
She gasped, and his mouth lifted away. He looked at her, breathing a little jerkily. “This is perfectly natural,” he said quietly. “Don’t fight it.”
Her eyes were wild and a little frightened by the overwhelming desire she felt. “You went away…with Glenna,” she whispered.
“She went on the plane,” he corrected. “She didn’t go with me.” His mouth traced her eyelids and closed them. His hands were under her arms, lifting her closer. They moved slowly, gently, onto her breasts and caressed them with lazy delight.
She felt her legs go weak underneath her. It was unlike any other time she’d been in his arms. He handled her as if she belonged to him, as if she were precious to him, cherished by him.
Her eyes opened when he lifted his head, and they were full of wonder, wide with breathless hunger and delight. Her heart was in them.
He searched them quietly, and a faint smile touched his hard mouth. “I’ve waited years for that expression,” he said under his breath. “Years.”
He bent again, and this time her arms lifted slowly around his neck, cradling his head as his mouth covered her parted lips. They clung to each other, letting the kiss build, feeling its power. She moaned when it became fierce and hungry, but she didn’t try to get away. Involuntarily, her body pressed hard against his.
She felt him shiver. He pushed down, his hands lifting her suddenly into the hard thrust of him and holding her there with a slow, sensual rhythm that made her tremble and gasp into his mouth.
“Sweetheart!” he whispered roughly.
The kiss grew harder. She felt him move and lift her clear off the floor in his arms. He walked to the sofa and spread her lengthwise on the leather, easing his body down to cover hers in a silence that was heated and tense.
He was fiercely aroused, and she wanted him at that moment more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. She followed where he led, even when she felt him shifting her so that his lean hips were pressed squarely against hers, between her legs, in an intimacy that was suddenly urgent and feverish with dark pleasure. She couldn’t have pushed him away if her survival had depended on it. Presumably he felt the same, because his arms held her relentlessly as he began to move against her.
She shuddered with the riptide of pleasure the movement produced, and her eyes flew open, locking with his dark, passionate gaze as he lifted his head to look at her.
With his hands at her head, taking most of his weight, he moved deliberately, watching her as she lifted to meet him and gasped at the sensations the contact produced. Her nails bit into his hard arms, but she wasn’t fighting. She was melting into the leather, flying up into the sky, burning, burning!
The intimacy became so torturous, so fierce, that it was almost too late to draw back when he realized what was happening to them. His hands caught her hips in a bruising clasp and he pulled her over him, holding her still, with her cheek on his pounding chest as he fought to breathe and stop all at the same time.
“No!” She choked, trying to return to the intimacy of their former embrace.
His hands forced her to be still. His breath at her forehead was hot and shaky, audible in the stillness of the study. “Don’t,” he bit off. “Don’t move. For God’s sake, don’t!”
Her mouth pressed into the cotton of his shirt, hot and hungry. “I want to,” she choked.
“God, don’t you think I want to?” he demanded huskily. His hands hurt in their fight to keep her still. “I want you to the point of madness. But not like this, Natalie!”
Belatedly, she realized that he was trying to save her from her own hunger for him. It wasn’t a thought she cherished at the moment, when her whole body was burning with a passion she’d never felt before. But slowly, the trembling eased and she began to breathe normally, if a little fast.
His hands smoothed over her hair, bunching it at her nape as he held her cheek to his chest.
“Why?” she whispered miserably when she was able to speak.
“Because I can’t marry you,” he explained. “And because you can’t live with sleeping with me if I don’t.”
All her dreams vanished in a haze. As the room came into focus across his broad chest, sh
e realized just how far gone they were and how intimate their position on the sofa had become. If he hadn’t stopped, they’d be lovers already. She hadn’t even protested. But he’d had the presence of mind to stop.
So much for her willpower and her principles, she thought sadly. It seemed that her body had a will of its own, and it was much stronger than her mind.
Tears poured from her eyes, and she didn’t even notice until she felt his shirt become damp under her cheek.
His hand laced into her hair and soothed her scalp. “If I thought it would help matters, I’d cry, too,” he murmured dryly.
She hit his shoulder with her fist. “How could you do that to me?” she demanded.
“How could you do it to me?” he shot back. “You know how I feel about commitment. I’ve said so often enough.”
“You started it,” she raged.
He sighed. “Yes, I did,” he admitted after a minute. “This is all I’ve been able to think about since we went nightclubbing,” he confessed. “That was probably the most misguided thing I’ve done in recent years. It’s hard to put out a brushfire once it’s started. Or didn’t you notice?”
She moved experimentally and felt him help her move away to a healthy distance, lying beside him on the long leather couch with her cheek on his shoulder. She looked at him quietly, curiously. His face was a little flushed, and his mouth was swollen from the hard, hungry kisses they’d shared. His shirt was open at the throat. His hair was disheveled. He looked as though he’d been making love, and probably so did she. She didn’t really mind. He looked sensual like that.
