Lone Star Baby

Her breasts pearling tautly against his forearm, she pulled her trapped limb free and rolled onto her back. Rubbing from shoulder to elbow to wrist, she tested the flexibility of her fingers with a beleaguered sigh. “Wow, that hurt!”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She sat up, still rubbing the affected limb. Beneath her shirt, he couldn’t help but note her breasts were still taut.

Oblivious to his wicked thoughts, she scoffed playfully. “You mean aside from my wounded pride?”

Glad she hadn’t lost her sense of humor, he grinned and sank down on the bed. He felt the drumbeat of arousal as he faced her. “I kind of like you as a damsel in distress.”

She crossed her arms over her breasts, her delicate hands resting on opposite shoulders, at the nape of her neck. “You are so funny.”

Suddenly sensing she needed more comforting than her self-imposed hug could give, he shifted closer. “I’m serious, Violet,” he said softly.

And then he did what he’d been wanting to do since forever. He took her into his arms, tilted her face up to his and kissed her.

Chapter Four (#ulink_45dfe506-06d3-5e89-9e5d-72af2a48d371)

Violet wanted to say she was surprised. That she hadn’t expected Gavin to ever kiss her. But that would not be true.

She could tell by the way he had been looking at her the past day or so that he had been considering doing just that.

What was worse, she had been feeling the exact same urge.

She didn’t know whether it was the fact they suddenly both found themselves responsible for baby Ava’s future, or the fact that Gavin was just so damn sexy. All she knew for sure was that when he’d come to her rescue and slid his brawny arm beneath her, her body had responded with a lightning bolt of desire that had started in her breasts and exploded like a thundercloud inside her. And now that he was kissing her, a second, even more powerful wave had started to surge. Driven, this time, by the hot, ardent press of his lips and the evocative sweep of his tongue.

He tasted so incredibly good, she realized as her eyes fluttered shut. Like mint and man, desire and determination. And it wasn’t just physical need he was conjuring up. There was a sudden riptide of long-suppressed feelings, too. The fact she had been alone, too long. An aching awareness of just how lost she had been and a deep, bolstering need for more...

And still Gavin kissed her, tangling her tongue with his, arousing even more passion and need. With a sound that was half whimper of protest, half sigh of submission, she allowed him to unwind her hands from her shoulders and drape them over the broad width of his. She let him fit his chest to hers and then, the next thing she knew, he altered her center of balance. She was sliding sideways on the bed. He was shifting her onto her back, moving over her, his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs moving erotically across the crests. And, dear heaven, that felt so...darn...good, too.

Violet groaned again.

If they kept this up, they would make love.

And she knew—for so many reasons, baby Ava among the most important of them—she could not let that happen.

The situation was confused enough as it was.

With a soft whimper she put both hands on his shoulders, broke the kiss and pushed him away.

* * *

GAVIN OPENED HIS EYES and shifted onto his side, unsure whether Violet looked relieved or disappointed he had stopped.

He knew he was both.

For as much as he wanted to make love to her right here and now, the more pragmatic part of him knew that doing so would have been a colossal mistake.

Violet was the most idealistic woman he had ever met.

She believed in love with all her heart and soul.

Not hookups.

Not tawdry one-night stands.

When she made love with a man again—and he was determined now, after kissing her, that it would be with him—she would want it to mean something.

The surprise was that he wanted their coming together to mean something, too.

She took a conciliatory breath. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Gavin grinned, aware he was enjoying spending time with her more than he had enjoyed anything in a long time. “For what? Kissing me back?”

Violet shook her head as if that would get her back on track and locked eyes with him. “No. For doing whatever it was I did to lead you on.”

Ah. So this is the way she’s going to play it.

She straightened, her face still flushed with desire, and scooted her hips to the foot of the bed.

“You didn’t lead me on,” he said, testing her, too.

She glanced back at him, her tousled hair enticingly spilling over her shoulders.

Resisting the urge to run his hands through the silky strands, he concentrated on the just-kissed softness of her lips before returning his attention to her eyes. “You’ve always made it clear you’re still in love with Sterling.”

There was a long, thoughtful pause that seemed to indicate he had guessed wrong about that.

Finally, she tilted her head. “Then you do understand.”

He had the distinct impression they were talking about two different things.

“Frankly, I’m envious.” Gavin was prodding, trying to figure out what exactly was holding her back if not her love for her late fiancé. “He was a lucky guy.”

Violet slid off the edge of the bed. “Until he died when he was twenty-five.”

Gavin swore silently. He had a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time in these kinds of situations. He stood, too. “You know what I mean.”

“I just don’t like it when people tell me how great we had it. Or how lucky we were to have found each other. Because nothing about it feels lucky, Gavin.” She paused, her lower lip quivering.

“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly pulling her into his arms and giving her the hug she seemed to need.

For an instant she sank into him. When she pulled back, there were tears shimmering in her eyes. “Forget all the books and movies, Gavin,” she whispered. “There’s nothing romantic about having a terminal illness. For the patient, or his or her loved ones.” She swallowed, pressing a palm to her forehead. “It just...”

“Sucks. I know. And I am sorry. For wanting to understand and not being able to because I haven’t walked a mile in your shoes.”

Again their eyes met. This time she accepted his acknowledgment of her pain.

After a moment her expression changed and she took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Moving on...” She brushed past him, to the narrow aisle he had created. “I still forgot to get pens!” This time when she reached down between the mattress and nightstand, there was just enough room. She bounded back up, plastic box filled with writing utensils clasped in hand. “Now, on to what we should be doing. Filling out those questionnaires...”