Cross My Heart

by Phyllis Halldorson

  Elyse slumped back, exhausted from the effort of remembering and telling.

  Clint gripped the arms of the chair to keep himself from jumping up and going to her. Stay away from her, a voice in his mind warned. If you take her in your arms you'll never be able to send her away.

  "Elyse, I can imagine what you must have gone through," he said softly. "I'm sorry—"

  She gestured for silence. "I'm not finished."

  "It's not necessary—"

  "I have to." She finished her drink and put the glass on the floor. "On Sunday I was so afraid you were going to leave again with just a quick kiss, and then when you took me in your arms and said you wanted me, I… I just went up in smoke."

  She buried her face in her hands, but continued speaking. "Oh, God, Clint, I was going to make the same mistake again!" Her anguish was heavy in her tone. "I would have blithely gone to you without even thinking of contraception. I would have risked the same situation all over again because I'm too irresponsible to have good sense."

  A sob shook her, and Clint was out of the chair and had her in his arms before he had time to debate the advisability of his action. "Sweetheart, oh, sweetheart, no. You're not irresponsible, and you wouldn't have gotten pregnant. I wouldn't have let that happen."

  He picked her up and sat down in the chair with her on his lap.

  She snuggled into his embrace and let the tears come. "That's no excuse," she said brokenly. "I should be responsible for my own body, my own actions. When you mentioned precautions and I realized what I'd almost done, I was so shocked and appalled that I just went cold all over."

  Her arms around his neck tightened, and she rubbed her tearstained cheek against his throat. "I still wanted to make love with you, but I couldn't. I…just couldn't."

  Clint held her close and rocked gently from side to side. The depression that had gnawed at him all week lifted, and he felt light and happy.

  He'd been right about Elyse. She wasn't the type to tease and torment. She'd been going through a hell of self-condemnation because she wanted him so badly that she'd momentarily forgotten the consequences.

  "My poor little doll," he murmured against her ear. "I'm surprised you'd want to apologize after the way I behaved, the things I said. I'm so sorry. I don't know if you can understand, but I was wanting you so badly, and had been for the whole hour it took us to get home. When you wrenched yourself away from me and said no after you'd been so responsive, so apparently willing, I guess I just went a little berserk." He chuckled mirthlessly. "I spent the rest of the night pacing the floor and damning you to hell."

  She burrowed her face against his shoulder. "I'm sorry." Her voice was thick with regret.

  "Hush, now," he said. "We've established the fact that we're both sorry. There's no need to belabor the point. I've forgiven you and I hope you've forgiven me, so let's forget it."

  They sat quietly in the chair, wrapped in each other's arms for a long time, until finally Elyse worked up enough nerve to bring up the most important subject of all.

  She kissed the side of his neck. "Clint."

  He rubbed his cheek in her abundant hair. "Uh-huh?"

  "I came prepared to spend the night if you want me to, and I'm fully protected." There, it was out, and she held her breath as she waited for his reaction.

  It was a while in coming. He just sat there quietly, and she could feel his heart beating against her breast. Why didn't he say something? She'd expected him either to pick her up and carry her off to the bedroom or to dump her on the floor and tell her to go home—either of which would have been preferable to no reaction at all!

  Her nerves were almost at the screaming point, when he finally spoke. "Elyse, I'm flattered and sorely tempted, but I think we should take advantage of the cooling-off period we've been given and think about where our relationship is going before we get any more deeply involved."

  Her heart sank. What cooling-off period? She'd been in a hot misery of frustration all week, and there was sure nothing cool about her feelings right now.

  "You're young and exquisitely beautiful," he continued. "Someday the right man will come along and you'll marry. I'm pushing forty and I like my life the way it is. I'm not looking for a wife, and I don't have time for a love affair. Between now and the general election in November I'll hardly have time to eat and sleep. The life of a politician is a merry-go-round, but it's what I've chosen. I'd like to be governor of California by the time I'm fifty, and to achieve that I'll have to be totally committed to it."

  He caressed her back tenderly. "I'm only human, and you're exceedingly desirable. If you still want to stay I'm not going to send you away, but you're almost sure to be hurt even though I'd never deliberately make you unhappy."

  Elyse felt as though she'd been kicked. Gently, but kicked all the same. Clint didn't want her! He'd told her as. politely as possible, but the message was clear. He wanted her to go home tonight and to stay the hell out of his life in the future.

  Again she felt the familiar despair of humiliation. She'd thrown herself at him and been firmly rejected! Now what did she do? How could she face him, let alone talk to him?

  Carefully she sat up and slid off his lap. She stood with her back to him and straightened her clothes. "You're probably right," she said, tightening her stomach muscles to make her voice stronger. "It wasn't a good idea. I guess I got carried away with my apology. I tend to go overboard at times."

  She reached down and picked up her suitcase, then started toward the foyer. "If you'll just unlock the door so I can get out, I'll be on my way."

  Dammit, she was babbling again. Why couldn't she just shut up and make a dignified exit?

  Clint was right behind her. "Elyse…" He sounded odd, too.

  She quickened her pace, then stopped at the front door. Clint took a key from his pocket and turned it in the lock, then reached for the luggage she held. "Here, I'll carry this for you," he said as he opened the door.

  "It's not necessary for you to come to the car with me," she protested.

  He took her arm and helped her down the stairs and onto the bridge. "I want to," he said, and continued to hold her arm protectively.

  They crossed the bridge and walked the few feet to where her car was parked. Clint opened the door and tossed the overnight bag across the seat to the passenger side.

  Elyse stood back and waited for him to get out of the way so she could slide in. There was a light pole in the parking area, and she could see the ripple of his back and shoulder muscles as he handled the luggage. How she loved those muscles, and the man they belonged to.

  He backed out of the car and turned to her. His eyes searched her face and his own looked grim. She hoped he wouldn't touch her. If he did she'd cry, and she badly wanted to preserve at least a show of poise.

  Her gaze locked with his, and she was surprised to see a dark shadow of agony in his eyes. She felt herself drawn magnetically toward him just before his arms went around her and brought her hard against his long lean body. Her mouth opened, and his covered it in a kiss that destroyed her will and left her defenseless and vulnerable to the hurt he'd promised her.

  When at last he tore his lips from hers it was with a shuddering groan. "Oh, my darling," he whispered huskily. "If you leave I don't think I can stand it."

  She didn't try to speak—her relief was too profound—but she put her hands behind his head and pushed it down to place slow, moist kisses on either side of his mouth. "I don't think I could, either," she whispered just before their lips met again.

  He scooped her up in his arms and carried her back across the bridge and into the house.

  He didn't put her down until they got to the bedroom, a large masculine room done in earth tones and furnished with dark, heavy, solid wood furnishings, beautiful and expensive. The outside wall was covered with woven drapes in shades of sea foam, cinnamon and camel, and indirect lighting gave a soft dusky glow of intimacy to the area.

  Clint walked to the bed, then
lowered Elyse to her feet but kept her in the circle of his embrace. He looked down at her, and the anguish that had shadowed his eyes was replaced with tenderness. "How do you manage to shoot my self-control and good intentions all to hell?" he asked with amusement.

  "Just lucky, I guess," she retorted breathlessly, touching her lips to his. "Are…are you sure this is what you want?"

  She couldn't bear it if he was just accommodating her.

  For an answer he lifted her slightly and ground her to him. He was hard with unbridled desire, and she shivered with pleasure as he thrust against her. "Do you have any doubt?" he whispered shakily into her ear.

  "No." She hid her face in his shoulder. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

  She'd never made love with a man who was experienced before, and she wanted so much to please him.

  He seemed to understand as he nibbled at her neck. "You're doing just fine. Does this sweater unbutton somewhere?" He stood her back on her feet.

  "No, it's loose," she said, and held up her arms so he could pull it over her head.

  Her breasts were firm and high, and she hadn't worn a bra. His gaze fastened on them, and they seemed to swell and grow tight. With a quivering sigh he reached out and touched them. They fit perfectly in his palms, and he leaned down and kissed first one tingling nipple, then the other.

  She clutched his shoulders and moaned as his tongue caressed the acutely sensitive tips.

  He let go of her for a moment as he stripped his own shirt off, then took her in his arms again. "Now, you do that to me," he instructed.

  It was a novel idea, and she lowered her head and touched her lips to first one and then the other of the large nipples on his flat chest. To her surprise they hardened, just as hers had. "I didn't know that was a sensual area for a man," she said, and licked at one of the tips.

  "It feels good," he said unsteadily. "Anyplace you touch me is erotic."

  She moved her head to the other side and sucked gently. A soft purr slid from his throat, and he searched at her waist until he found and unfastened the tab and the zipper at the side of her slacks. They were pleated and roomy, and when they'd slid effortlessly to the floor, she stepped out of them.

  His hands roamed over her bare flesh until they encountered the skimpy bikini panties. He dispensed with them, too, then pressed her against him and shivered. "You feel the way I knew you would," he murmured, "soft and smooth and incredibly exciting."

  She had been caressing his back, and just rubbing the firm skin and feeling the solid muscles contract caused an itch deep in her body that made her squirm.

  Working her fingers under the waistband of his belt-less jeans, she slid them around to the front. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and his own fingers clenched her firm, round buttocks. She pulled at the heavy snap, but it didn't give and she pulled again, each time inadvertently brushing her fist against the hardness beneath. He clenched his jaw and tensed, but didn't interfere.

  On the third try the snap flew apart, but the zipper remained locked. An attack of shyness overcame her. What should she do now? She'd expected the zipper to open along with the snap.

  She looked up and saw the strained expression on his face, but he managed a wicked grin. "Well, go ahead and finish the job."

  She knew she was blushing, and ducked her head as she tried to get ahold of the tiny zipper pull with the tips of her fingers without touching the distended jeans beneath it. Unfortunately she was so flustered that her hand slipped.

  Clint groaned and covered her hand with his, tightening her hold on him. "Good Lord, Elyse," he muttered. "My endurance isn't unlimited. You'd better let me do that." He removed her tingling hand and quickly pulled off his pants.

  He wasn't wearing briefs, and he was magnificent in the buff. There wasn't an ounce of spare flesh on him. He was firm and smooth and only slightly hairy. Elyse had never been turned on by furry chests and long thick hair on arms and legs, and Clint was just right.

  She knew he'd caught her staring, but she didn't care. Then she realized he was staring just as intently at her. When their gazes met she went eagerly into his arms, and he enfolded her in an ardent embrace. "You're so exquisite I'm almost afraid to touch you," he murmured.

  "You're beautiful, too," she said with a touch of awe. "Like a rare and perfect sculpture."

  He reached down and threw back the bedcovers, then tumbled her onto the sheet and followed her down. "Aren't you going to turn off the lights?" she asked.

  "Not unless you want me to. I want to look at you."

  He began to caress her lightly. "I want to see your flawless body and watch your expression as I do this… and this… and this."

  She moaned with pleasure and smiled with delight as his hands did fantastic things to her. Then his lips followed his hands, sucking and nibbling until she was writhing with sensations she'd never experienced before.

  She arched toward him, and he moved to lie against her side with one leg thrown over hers and the hardness of his desire pressed alongside her hip.

  His breathing was labored and his heart was pounding. She knew he was having difficulty holding back, but he continued the unhurried fondling that was driving her wild with the need for still more. As if reading her mind, his fingers stroked lower and lower, until she cried out with desperation and her hips started rocking in the rhythm of passion.

  Only then did he move over her and join their two bodies as one to continue the throbbing tempo. Elyse clasped her legs around his thrusting hips and dug her fingernails into his shoulders as she opened her mouth to meet his.

  The rapidly escalating fervor exploded into a kaleidoscope of swirling sensations that were almost too exhilarating to endure.

  Chapter Seven

  Clint woke without an alarm just as he did every morning at seven o'clock; but this morning was different. This morning there was a soft, warm woman snuggled in his arms, and he didn't have to open his eyes to remember it was Elyse.

  He smiled as he looked down at her, sleeping soundly with her head on his shoulder. They'd made love three times during the long night, and every time had been incendiary. Now she fit so perfectly against him, her face relaxed into the innocent look of a child.

  He moved his hand lightly over the indentation of her waist, the curve of her hip. Her body was definitely not that of a child, and if he didn't get out of bed and away from her he wouldn't be able to resist waking her. Besides, his arm and shoulder tingled from lack of circulation where she lay on them.

  Carefully he disentangled himself from her and slid out of bed. She didn't move, and he walked to the closet and put on his maroon thigh-length robe.

  A glance at the bed reminded him of the delights that lay under the thin sheet that covered her, and he forced himself to look away. He needed his wits about him, and remembering her satiny, responsive body wasn't the way to keep them.

  He pulled the drapes away from the sliding door in the glass wall and opened it. The fresh clean scent of pine wafted on the cool spring air, and the water in the pool sparkled as light danced across it. It was a beautiful morning, but for some reason the very brightness of it depressed him.

  Clint leaned against the doorjamb and looked out over the gardens, a riot of color from daffodils, tulips, hyacinths, primroses and pansies, but he couldn't keep his mind on the yellows, red, purples and greens. Instead he focused on the night just past.

  It had been fantastic, but was it worth the price he must surely pay?

  The lovemaking had been. He wasn't sure it had ever been that good before, even with Dinah. The first time had been an exercise in restraint. He'd been determined not to hurt Elyse, or rush her, even though he'd been on the ragged edge from the time he'd picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, but when his self-control shattered she'd been with him all the way.

  The next two times were sheer magic, with neither of them holding back.

  Ah, yes, good sex was important, and maybe it was enough. Maybe that's what lov
e was all about, after all, the intimate giving and receiving. The sharing of pleasure too intense to be denied.

  Clint shifted from one foot to the other. He knew men who would give up everything for a woman who could bring them the ecstasy Elyse had so freely given him. But would it last? Or, more likely, would it be tamed by repeated exposure until it could no longer carry a relationship… a marriage… ?

  He knew he must either stop seeing Elyse or marry her. Before last night he'd had a choice; now he didn't. She loved him. She'd told him so. Not with words, but with her body. She was sweet and honest and one of the most morally upright women he'd ever met. She would never come to a man the way she'd come to him unless she were truly in love with him. He'd understood that, but he'd taken her, anyway, because he'd felt he had to have her.

  Now if he wanted to keep his self-respect and protect Elyse from losing hers, he'd have to marry her. She'd come to him freely with love and trust, and he'd accepted what she'd been willing to give. If he walked away from her now she'd feel betrayed and humiliated. He couldn't do that to her.

  Maybe he did love her, after all. Not the deeply passionate way he'd loved Dinah, but Elyse was precious to him. He wouldn't hurt her so brutally.

  Elyse opened her eyes and felt a moment of panic. Where was she? There was nothing familiar about this room.

  Then her gaze fastened on Clint, wearing a robe that exposed most of his strong muscular legs and standing in the open doorway with his back to her. The memory of the night returned, and she snuggled under the sheet with a little purr of contentment.

  Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that making love could be such an incredible experience! It had been good with Jerry, but with Clint it had been… awesome.