Denim and Lace (19 page)

Somewhere in the fever of it, she found a heady taste of the ultimate pleasure. But her joy was in his, because she felt and heard and saw the culmination of his pleasure. He didn't try to hide his face. He sensed her gaze and let her watch him. It increased the pleasure to such a degree that he heard his own voice cry out, unbearably strained in the quiet room.

A long time later she smoothed his black hair gently and kissed his closed eyes, his damp face, his hot throat as he lay over her, his weight formidable and beloved all at once.

“I love you,” she murmured. She moved against him, sighing as she pulled him even closer. There should be guilt, she thought, but there was none. She'd loved no man except this one. She never would. To love him completely was as natural as breathing, and this memory would last a lifetime.

He heard the words and wished he could be sure that she wasn't just saying them because he was her first man. He wanted her to mean them, but it was too soon yet.

He rolled onto his back and stretched his cramped muscles, aware of her rapt, curious gaze on the powerful, hair-roughened length of him. He was uncomfortable like this with women, as a rule, and he couldn't remember a time when he'd made love in the light, despite what he'd once said to Bess. But it was different with Bess. Everything was. Loving her had given him pleasure that made him burn even in the sated aftermath.

Bess moved, disturbed by his silence, and pulled the sheet up over her. She glanced at her dress, which had been under them, and at the faint red traces on it. She flushed, sitting up.

Cade's eyes found hers in the stillness of the room. She looked embarrassed and almost fragile like that.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “I never meant for that to happen.” It wasn't quite the truth, but there was no need to upset her any more right now. His eyes ran down to the dress and he looked up, concerned. “Was it very bad?”

She shook her head. Her gaze fell to his body and she flushed, turning away.

He threw his legs off the bed half-angrily and got back into his clothes. The door was standing wide-open, and he thanked God that the house had been empty. He hadn't even had the presence of mind to close and lock it, so lost had he been in Bess and his need to have her that nothing had registered except the desire he felt.

Her fingers clenched on the sheet as he stood up again, his shirt hanging open over the hard muscles and thick hair her hands had found such delight in. Now, sane again, she felt ashamed of what she'd let
him
do. He hadn't even said that he loved her, and now he looked as if he despised her. She felt tears moistening her eyes. All the reasons that had seemed so right in the heat of passion seemed irrational now, with the fever gone and cold reality staring them in the face. He couldn't ever respect her again because of what she'd let him do. Her tender memory had turned into a shaming nightmare.

Cade was feeling something similar. He'd wanted the hope of a child to tie Bess to him, and the fever that had burned in his blood had blinded him to the unfairness of what had seemed reasonable at the time. Now he felt a little ashamed. Bess had been a virgin and he'd seduced her. He'd given her one more reason to hate him, when she had enough as it was. He'd wanted her with him, but it wasn't fair to force her, to take her choices away.

He was vaguely aware of Bess's quiet gaze on him. He turned toward her with his shirt still unbuttoned, revealing his damp, hair-matted chest, and his dark eyes searched her wan face as she sat there clutching the sheet over her breasts. His face hardened as he saw the telltale marks of his mouth on her soft skin, the faint redness created by its soft suction.

He reached for the cigarettes and lighter he kept in the drawer of his bedside table and lit one, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke as he went to the window and stared out.

Bess wanted to ask what he was feeling. She wanted him to explain why he hadn't even tried to stop. But she was too shy and too embarrassed and too ashamed. She pulled the stained sundress over her head and buttoned it, aware of his quiet scrutiny. It would get her back to her own room at least. Then she could throw it away. She knew she'd never wear it again.

She stood up, and her eyes went to the door, which was standing wide-open. She blushed, wondering how she could have lived with herself if anyone had come home and seen them.

“The house is empty,” he remarked, his voice deep, subdued. “No one will be back for an hour or two.”

She folded the material over the stain absently, her eyes downcast, her hair in a glorious tangle around her shoulders.

“Don't look like that,” he said. “I feel bad enough as it is.”

She turned toward him, her eyes searching his, but there was nothing showing in that poker face. “You didn't force me,” she faltered, averting her eyes. “I'm as much to blame as you are.”

He drew in a heavy breath. “Three years is a long time,” he said absently. “I thought I could handle it, but you went right to my head.”

She didn't understand. “Three years?” she echoed.

He lifted the cigarette to his mouth, drew, and blew out a cloud of smoke. “That's how long it had been for me,” he replied. “I've been completely celibate since that last day I gave you riding lessons.”

She didn't move. Her breath seemed suspended deep in her chest. “But...surely, there were women who wanted you?” she began.

He smiled ruefully. “There are women who'd want any man if he was winning in rodeo competitions. Rodeo fans.” The smile faded. “A man has to want a woman back before he's capable with her.” His eyes darkened, glittered. “I want you. Nobody else.”

She sighed slowly. “You've been avoiding me since that last time we talked,” she said. “I thought you'd given me up to Robert.”

“Damned Robert,” he said shortly. “He's my brother, and I love him, but I could have beaten the hell out of him with pleasure for the past couple of weeks. You're mine. I said it and I meant it. I'm not sharing you, least of all with my own brother.”

“Cade...”

“Go ahead,” he said challenging her with a mocking smile. “Tell me you could do that,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the rumpled bed, “with Robert or any other man but me.”

She couldn't. She shifted, wrapping her arms over her breasts. They were still a little sensitive from the touch of his hands and mouth. Just remembering made her color.

“I... I've never wanted anyone but you,” she confessed, lowering her eyes to the bare floor. “I don't suppose I ever will.”

“Then I think you'd better marry me.”

There it was again, that question that made her feel so wonderful and so sorrowful all at once. She wasn't sure she had the strength to turn him down a second time, even if it was ultimately for his own good. She looked up, and everything she felt was in her eyes.

“Which is it?” she asked miserably. “Pity or shame or guilt?”

He put out the cigarette in a dish on the bedside table and moved toward her. His lean fingers touched her face, tilting her head back so that their eyes met. “Tell me you love me,” he said.

He was hopeless. Impossible. Arrogant. She reached up and touched her mouth softly to him. “I love you,” she whispered. “But I won't marry you.”

“Why not?”

She pressed both trembling hands against his chest and stared at the hard muscle and damp, thick hair. “I've already told you why,” she said. “I want to try my wings. I want my freedom for a little longer.”

“And you think you can walk away from what we've just done together?” he asked gently.

She colored. “It's the wrong time of the month for me to get pregnant,” she said, lying through her teeth because anytime of the month was the wrong time now.

“That wasn't what I meant.” He sighed, pulling her forehead against his chest. “You don't understand how it is. Making love is addictive. You're going to want it again with me, just as I'm going to want it again with you. But my conscience won't let me play around with you, Bess. If you won't marry me, this isn't going to happen again.”

She swallowed. “You mean, you'd find someone else.”

“How?” he asked, looking into her eyes. “I wasn't kidding. I can't make love with other women. I haven't wanted anyone except you for three years.”

“But—”

He put his forefinger over her lips. “If you're bound and determined to stay in San Antonio, then go ahead. I won't try to persuade you, and I won't compromise you any more than I already have. But if I've made you pregnant, I have a right to know.”

“Yes.” She stared up at him with her heart in her eyes, loving him so much that the thought of a child was tormented heaven. She'd have given anything to give him a son. But that was no longer possible and she just had to face it. At least she knew what it was to love him. Her fingers touched his broad chest, and she knew that she'd live on today all her life. Tears stung her eyes as she faced the idea of those long years without him.

“I shouldn't have let it go this far,” he murmured when he saw the brightness of her eyes. “The first time should be a husband's right.”

Her gaze met his and locked with it. “Then it would have been yours anyway,” she whispered. “Because there won't ever be anybody else.” The tears escaped her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “Oh, Cade, you can't possibly imagine how much I love you!”

He wrapped her up against him hungrily, his head bending over hers where it rested on his bare skin. He rocked her, his voice in her ear murmuring endearments, his hands soothing her.

“Stay,” he said huskily. “Take a chance on it.”

“I can't.” Her voice broke on the words. “I can't.”

He wished he could understand what she was so afraid of. But maybe if he let her go, despite the agony it was going to mean, she might discover that she couldn't live without him. It was a gamble, like the one he'd just taken. But he'd been wrong to try to force her to stay by making her pregnant. He didn't have that right. He had to let her make the decision on her own. She loved him at least. That was in his favor.

She savored his warm strength, the feel and smell and hardness of him in her arms. He had to care about her, or why would he have gone to such lengths to keep her here? Cade wasn't the kind of man who seduced virgins. He had too much conscience, and too much respect for her. It was going to be hard for him, as old-fashioned as he was.

It was going to be hard for her, too, she admitted ruefully. Despite the modern attitudes of others, hers were cemented in the past, like Cade's. She'd lived too sheltered a life to accept life in the fast lane.

She pulled away from him at last, wiping her eyes.

He lifted her left hand and stared at the ring before his eyes met hers. His thumb rubbed over it gently. “You might consider yourself engaged now,” he murmured. “That would ease my conscience a little.” He smiled. “It might ease yours, too. I think it'll be hell for both of us living with what we've done otherwise.”

It was only a little concession, she told herself. And did it really matter? Because he didn't want anyone else, and neither did she. It was no less a bond than the feeling that kept them bound together already. But she had to remember that she couldn't give in to the need for his name. His child-hunger was the one impenetrable barrier between them, and not even love would make up for that.

“It will have to be a long engagement,” she said after a minute.

Sheer joy danced in his eyes, but he wouldn't let her see. “Okay,” he said carelessly. “That means you don't date, by the way,” he added. “Unless you enjoy having your dates beaten bloody, that is.”

She smiled softly. “Would you?”

“Now, I would,” he agreed. The smile faded, and his eyes darkened as he looked down at her. “I'm your lover,” he said. “Remember?”

She hid her eyes from him. “My first lover,” she whispered.

He framed her face in his hands and lifted it. “I hope you dream about it every night of your life,” he whispered against her mouth. “I hope the memory of it gives you hell.”

“Thank you very much...” His mouth covered hers hungrily. He fitted her into the contours of his body, amazed to find that he was instantly aroused.

She felt it and tried to move back, but he caught her hips roughly and pushed them against his. Then he lifted his head and stared at her with mocking amusement.

“That used to happen every time I heard your voice,” he said. “Now I can just look at you and it happens.”

She colored at the way he said it, at the emotion in his voice, at the feel of his hard-muscled body so intimately close.

“How in hell can you still blush?” he asked, smiling.

“It's new,” she said falteringly.

He bent and brushed his mouth softly over hers. “You might not believe it, honey, but it's new to me, too.” He lifted her by the waist until she was on a level with his dark eyes, close against him. “I don't guess I could change your mind about leaving on Monday?”

Her heart skipped. “No.” She leaned forward helplessly and brushed her mouth softly over his. “I love you,” she whispered. Her brows knitted. “I love you...!”

There was anguish in her voice. That disturbed him, but her mouth came back to his, and he gave in to the need to kiss her. His lips pushed hers gently apart and his tongue penetrated into the warmth of her mouth. He heard her moan and felt her tremble. He could almost have given her back those frantic words, but he didn't want her to feel trapped. She was softhearted, and if she knew how he really felt, she might sacrifice herself for his sake. He couldn't let her do that, he cared too much.

He lifted his head, drowning in the softness of her, the light in the soft brown eyes adoring him so openly. He shuddered with need and emotion. “I'll come to see you,” he whispered.