by Diana Palmer
It occurred to him suddenly that he was the only man she'd really had. Her only early experience of sex had been terrifying, painful. But she loved being with him. He could hear it in her soft voice. He could feel it in her exquisite body.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, shivering.
"Don't you know?" he teased.
"I can't...think."
"That's reassuring," he whispered with a wicked laugh. He lifted his head and looked into her misty eyes. "I was thinking that I'm the only lover you've ever had." She hesitated. Her face was troubled. "Rape doesn't count," he reminded her, and his eyes were loving. "It doesn't?" she asked curiously. "Honestly?" He nibbled her upper lip. "It's like grand theft, what Stanton
did to you. But it wasn't sexual, not to him. Men who rape women are after control, not pleasure." He kissed her again. "Why don't you know that?" "There was one man I dated, years ago," she began. "He thought it made me dirty. He said he couldn't have touched me after that." "It wouldn't matter to me if you'd had half a dozen men, as long as I'm the last one," he mused gently. "Didn't you know?"
That was when she knew he felt something more than desire for her. His eyes were dark and warm with feeling, with tenderness. She reached up and caressed his cheek, his mouth, with possessive fingers.
"I adore you," she whispered huskily.
He caught her fingers and kissed them. "Same here." He lifted his head and looked down at her. His eyebrows arched. "I can't believe I did this." She smiled mischievously. "I can." He laughed as he got to his feet and pulled her up with him, slowly replacing
clothing, fastening openings, in a silence rapt with delight and amusement. "At least nobody decided to pay us a visit," she murmured, looking at the ruins of lunch on the table. Her hair felt odd. She reached behind her head and came back with
mashed potatoes and a green bean.
"Oh, dear," she said.
Cash roared. "You look delicious, darling," he told her. He wiggled his eyebrows. "If you'd like to roll around in some more of those potatoes, I can lick them off for you," he suggested.
She hit him. "You stop that. This is no way to begin a marriage."
"Sure it is," he said. "Food is the foundation of many a relationship. You do look good in mashed potatoes and green beans."
"Keep it up, and I'll decorate you in coffee grounds," she teased.
He laughed, bending to kiss her warmly. "I didn't use anything," he said quietly, sobering.
She smiled lazily. "I know. It doesn't matter."
His eyes brightened and he smiled back.
"When and where are we getting married?" she wanted to know.
"Day after tomorrow at the county courthouse. Judd and Crissy are going to be our witnesses."
"That's nice of them," she said with genuine appreciation.
"It is, isn't it?" He filled his eyes with her. "This is going to be the longest two days of my life." He meant it, too.
THEY WERE MARRIED EARLY in the morning. Tippy wore her green silk pantsuit and carried a bouquet of yellow roses. Cash wore a suit. Judd, Crissy and Rory stood with them as witnesses, and the probate judge grinned as she pronounced them man and wife.
Rory hugged them both, fighting tears. "This is the best day of my life," he told them.
"It's one of my best ones, too," Cash said, and for once he didn't get cold feet about commitment. He was thanking his lucky stars that Tippy was his, at last. She looked as if she felt exactly the same. But she was worried about something. He could tell.
Later, he asked her, after they had lunch with the Dunns and Rory at a local restaurant. "I don't know," she told him honestly. "But it's something bad. I'm sorry," she added quickly. "I didn't want to spoil our wedding day."
"You haven't. I'm getting used to these feelings of yours," he had to admit. "But
tonight, Rory's staying with Judd and Crissy, and you and I are going to have the sort of
wedding night people dream about. Bad feelings or not."
She smiled tenderly. "I can't wait!" she whispered. He chuckled. 'That makes
two of us."
IT WAS A LONG AND PASSIONATE night. Cash had incredible stamina. She'd never even read about some of the pleasures he introduced her to during the long night.
"Where did you learn that?" she exclaimed, gasping as she lay under him, with one
of his long, powerful legs curled in between both of hers while he possessed her.
"Arnie," he murmured, one lean hand going to her thigh to position her again.
Her eyes widened. "Arnie?!"
He laughed. His mouth went to her throat and pressed into it, hot and ardent, his
tongue touching the hollow where her pulse was visible. "Arnie was my buddy in boot
camp. He knew more about women than a producer of X-rated movies," he
murmured. "He had books, he had videotapes, he had magazines. . .everything
necessary to make an expert of a novice."
"Yes, but practice...makes perfect," she gasped.
"Mmm-hmm," he murmured wickedly, nipping her shoulder with his teeth. "But good sex is a thing of the mind and heart as well as the body. With someone you barely know, it's a minor amusement."
"And with me?" she prodded.
He lifted his head and looked down into her eyes. "With you, it's almost sacred," he whispered. Her lips parted and tears filled her eyes. "Don't do that," he said, kissing the wetness away. "I can't help it. That's how I feel, too, when I'm with you." She kissed his chest
hungrily. "Every time is the first time. I ache just looking at you."
His mouth slid up to caress her lower lip. He nibbled it with his teeth while his body moved into a new, slower rhythm. His breath was coming fast and hard, like her own. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, his teeth clenching with every powerful movement of his body against her.
Her nails bit into his upper arms, contracting with every stab of pleasure. She moaned huskily, moving under him convulsively.
"Yes," he whispered gruffly. 'That's it. Do that again. Move with me."
"You like it?" she breathed.
"I love it," he growled. "You're magic. You burn me up inside. I love the way it feels when I have you." She smiled and arched under him, enticing him, and her hands moved slowly, shyly, down below his waist. She searched his eyes, hesitating.
"Go ahead," he coaxed. "Do anything you like."
"You don't mind?"
He laughed through his need. "No, I don't mind," he chuckled. "Come on, chicken. Touch me."
She did, hesitantly, flushing. He chuckled and reached down to curl her fingers around him. "Like this," he whispered, and he taught her with a patience that quickly became urgent. "Here," he ground out, shivering. "Here...yes!"
She looked up at him, fascinated by the anguished look on his face as he suddenly brushed her hand aside and riveted her to the bed under the sudden, ferocious thrust of his body against hers.
"I'm.. .sorry," he bit off, gasping. "I can't hold it...!"
"Love me," she breathed, reaching up to his hips, tugging them down. "Do it hard," she gasped. "Hard, hard.. .fill me up...!"
He lost control. The ferocious, crushing movements of his hips quickly brought him to the verge of a shattering climax. He could feel her eyes on him as he began the sharp climb to fulfillment. It enhanced the pleasure, made it wilder and more exquisite than anything he'd ever known.
She sensed his pleasure. Her legs opened wider, her hips arched rhythmically, frantically, matching him, her nails biting into his buttocks as she coaxed him even deeper.
"Let me watch you climax," she whispered boldly. "Let me watch, Cash!" He actually cried out. The powerful muscles in his chest and neck tautened like cords as he convulsed abruptly and whipped helplessly over her.
The fierce crush of his hips, the furious swelling of his body inside hers, brought the most incredible burst of pleasure she'd ever known. His face blurred in her vision as she sobbed in the anguish
of climax. Her own body convulsed, too, matching the helpless thrashing motion of his own. For a split second, they were two souls inhabiting one body.
They collapsed together, pulsing with satisfaction, shivering in each other's arms.
"Now I feel married," she managed huskily.
"Yes," he said unsteadily. He kissed her eyes closed. "Now, so do I."
FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, life was beautiful. Cash and Tippy grew closer than ever. Rory watched them holding hands with a mischievous smile. He was pan of a family. He had a place in the world. He'd never been so happy.
Tippy felt the same, but the nagging worry at the back of her mind hadn't really abated. She knew something was going to happen, something unpleasant. And it worried her, although she tried not to let Cash see it.
On Friday she was on pins and needles waiting for Rory to come back from the shopping mall in Houston where he'd gone with a new friend's family. She was equally worried about Cash, on the job. She only wanted to know what was wrong. But her vague feelings of unease gave her no clue.
The phone call came a few hours before Cash was due home. Tippy picked up the receiver hastily and heard a vaguely familiar voice. "It's Sergeant William James from the Ashton, Georgia, police department," he said, jogging her memory. "Yes, I remember you!" she exclaimed, because he was the officer who'd lived next door to her mother years ago. He'd saved her the night Sam Stanton had raped her.
He was also the one who'd called her when Rory was just four years old and helped her get custody of him. "I've got some news for you," he said quietly. "I don't know how to put it, exactly." "Something's happened to my mother," she said immediately. "I've been worried all day." He didn't seem surprised. "You always had those premonitions when you were little," he recalled.
'They're more curse than blessing," she replied. "Is it bad?"
"Yes. She's had a heart attack. I don't suppose you know that she's been in rehab for about a month now," he added surprisingly. "She's been sober, for the first time since I've known her. She's in bad shape, but she wants to see you before she dies."
Tippy was shocked. "Is she going to die?" she wanted to know.
"I think so," he said.
"She hasn't beenmuch ofa mother, even when she was sober."
"She's still your blood," he reminded her. He could feel her eyes on him as he began the sharp climb to fulfillment. It enhanced the pleasure, made it wilder and more exquisite than anything he'd ever known.
She sensed his pleasure. Her legs opened wider, her hips arched rhythmically, frantically, matching him, her nails biting into his buttocks as she coaxed him even deeper.
"Let me watch you climax," she whispered boldly. "Let me watch, Cash!" He actually cried out. The powerful muscles in his chest and neck tautened like cords as he convulsed abruptly and whipped helplessly over her.
The fierce crush of his hips, the furious swelling of his body inside hers, brought the most incredible burst of pleasure she'd ever known. His face blurred in her vision as she sobbed in the anguish of climax. Her own body convulsed, too, matching the helpless thrashing motion of his own. For a split second, they were two souls inhabiting one body.
They collapsed together, pulsing with satisfaction, shivering in each other's arms.
"Now I feel married," she managed huskily.
"Yes," he said unsteadily. He kissed her eyes closed. "Now, so do I."
FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, life was beautiful. Cash and Tippy grew closer than ever. Rory watched them holding hands with a mischievous smile. He was part of a family. He had a place in the world. He'd never been so happy.
Tippy felt the same, but the nagging worry at the back of her mind hadn't really abated. She knew something was going to happen, something unpleasant. And it worried her, although she tried not to let Cash see it.
On Friday she was on pins and needles waiting for Rory to come back from the shopping mall in Houston where he'd gone with a new friend's family. She was equally worried about Cash, on the job. She only wanted to know what was wrong. But her vague feelings of unease gave her no clue.
The phone call came a few hours before Cash was due home. Tippy picked up the receiver hastily and heard a vaguely familiar voice. "It's Sergeant William James from the Ashton, Georgia, police department," he said, jogging her memory.
"Yes, I remember you!" she exclaimed, because he was the officer who'd lived
next door to her mother years ago. He'd saved her the night Sam Stanton had raped
her. He was also the one who'd called her when Rory was just four years old and
helped her get custody of him.
"I've got some news for you," he said quietly. "I don't know how to put it,
exactly."
"Something's happened to my mother," she said immediately. "I've been worried
all day."
He didn't seem surprised. "You always had those premonitions when you were little,"
he recalled. "They're more curse than blessing," she replied. "Is it bad?" "Yes. She's
had a heart attack. I don't suppose you know that she's been in rehab for about a
month now," he added surprisingly. "She's been sober, for the first time since I've
known her. She's in bad shape, but she wants to see you before she dies." Tippy was
shocked. "Is she going to die?" she wanted to know. "I think so," he said.
"She hasn't been much of a mother, even when she was sober." "She's still your blood," he reminded her. "Yes." She hesitated, but only for a minute. "I'll bring Rory and come home," she said quietly.
"I know what happened to you in New York," he added. "It isn't safe for you to come here alone. You need someone along to watch your back. I can come out there and fly back with you both."
She smiled. "Thanks," she said. "But I think I can get Cash to come with us."
There was a hesitation. "Cash Grier?"
She gasped. "You know him?"
"I know of him," he corrected. "He phoned here a little while back, to check on your mother and ask us to keep an eye on her in case the kidnappers showed up, if they made bail. She was arrested on conspiracy charges, you know. She made bail and got out of jail pretty quick. Maybe she was afraid of going to prison with Stanton for the kidnapping stunt, or maybe years of drug and alcohol abuse just played havoc with her health. Either way, she's not going to last long."
"I'll talk to Cash and phone you back. What's your number?"
He gave it to her. She thanked him for breaking it to her so kindly, and hung up.
Then she buried her face in her hands and cried, for the childhood she'd never had, for the mother who'd never wanted or loved her. She still had to tell Rory. But she was sure he felt no more for the cruel woman than Tippy herself did. Was she crazy to go home and give her mother another free shot at her?
In the past year, she'd had no one to comfort her during painful times. It hadn't felt right to worry Rory with things he couldn't understand. There had been no one else. But now, she had someone.
She picked up the phone and called the police station. When she asked for Cash, he was on the line in seconds.
"What's wrong?" he asked at once. She laughed huskily, even through her misery. "Why does something have to be wrong?" "You never call me at work." "Now you're psychic," she mused. "It rubs off. Come on. Spill it." She took a deep breath. "My mother's dying. She wants to
see Rory and me." He hesitated. "Have you told Rory?" "No. He hasn't come home from Houston yet. I'd.. .like it, if you were here when I
do." He felt a foot taller. "Okay." She laughed a little breathlessly. "Just like that?" "I'm sort of the head of the household," he pointed out. "Even if I'm not quite as good
with an iron skillet as you are," he added. She looked at the rings on her finger and felt warm all over, protected, cherished. "I like that." "Me, too. I'll be right home." "You won't get in trouble?" she asked, because she knew he was still having some problems at work, despite the change of
> administration. "Not now," he promised. "I've got friends in high places, if I need them. But
things are going well." "You were having trouble with that Merrill woman," she began. 'That particular problem has become Houston's," he said smugly. "It's now
officially out of my hands." "Thank goodness," she said without thinking. "Oh, so you worry about me, do you?" he asked, with a deep, soft note in his voice. "Always," she confessed. She wiped away the last of the wetness from her cheek. "I
