Page 20 of Texas Honor

She was trembling. She wanted it. Her body arched sinuously. She reached up, shyly, and cupped his face, gently tugging at it.

“I won’t...cry out,” she whispered, biting her lower lip to make sure.

“Say ‘taste me,’” he whispered back, searching her eyes.

She blushed feverishly and turned her face into his throat to hide her embarrassment.

“Virgin,” he breathed, trembling himself with the newness of it. “Oh, God, I want to have you so much!”

She thought she knew what he meant, but just then he took her breast into his warm mouth, and she had to chew her lip almost through to keep from screaming at the incredible sensation.

Her hands released his face, and she clenched them over her head. Writhing helplessly, she was caught up in the throes of something so powerful that it stopped her breath in her throat. She twisted up toward him, her body shuddering, her breast on fire with the feel of his mouth.

With a rough groan he suddenly rolled away from her and sat up with his face in his hands, shuddering, bent over as if in agony.

She lay there without moving, shaking all over with reaction and frustration, too weak from desire to even cover herself.

After a minute he took a deep, steadying breath and looked down at her. If she expected mockery or amusement, she was surprised. Because he wasn’t smiling.

His dark green eyes ran over her like hands, lingering on all the places where his mouth had been, devouring her. He drew the bra slowly back down and reached around her for the hooks, fastening them. Then he pulled the edges of her dress together and buttoned them. He didn’t speak until he was through.

“Do you understand why I stopped?” he asked gently. Yes, there was that. There was tenderness in every line of his face, in his voice, in the fingers that brushed her cheek.

“Yes,” she returned slowly. “I think so.”

“I didn’t frighten you?”

That seemed to matter very much. She felt suddenly old and venerable and deeply possessive. “No,” she said.

He tugged gently on a strand of damp hair. “Did I please you?” he persisted and this time he smiled but without mockery.

“As if you couldn’t tell,” she murmured, lowering her face so that he couldn’t see it.

“If we ever make love completely, it will have to be in a soundproof room,” he said at her ear. “You’d scream the house down.”

“Ward!” she groaned and buried her face in his chest.

“No.” He shuddered, moving her away, and he looked pale all of a sudden.

Her eyes questioned his. All these feeling were very new to her.

He drew in a harsh breath, holding her hands in his. “Men are very easy to arouse,” he told her without embarrassment. “When they get to fever pitch, it takes very little to fan the fire. Right now I’m beyond fever pitch,” he mused with a faint laugh, “and if you touch me that way again, we’re both going to be in a lot of trouble.”

“Oh,” she returned, searching his eyes. “Does it hurt?” she whispered softly.

“A little,” he replied. He brushed back her hair. “How about you?”

“Wow.” She laughed shakily. “I never dreamed that could happen to me.”

He felt incredible. New. Reborn. He touched her face lightly as if he were dreaming. Bending over her, he took her mouth softly under his and kissed her. It was different from any other kiss in his life. When he let her go, he had to stand up or lay her down.

“You’d better get back to work,” he said and gestured toward the computer. “And, no, I’m not going to try to teach you. My body won’t let me that close without making impossible demands on both of us so you’ll have to muddle through alone.” He laughed angrily. “Damn it, are you a witch?”

She stood up, smoothing her dress and hair. “Actually, until about five minutes ago, I thought I was Lady Dracula.”

“Now you know better, don’t you?” He stood watching her, his mouth slightly swollen, his shirt open, his hands on his narrow hips. The sight of him still took her breath away.

She went quickly back to the computer and sat down, keeping her eyes on the screen. “I’ll get these finished before supper, if I can,” she promised.