Diana Palmer Texan Lovers: Calhoun / Justin / Tyler / Sutton's Way / Ethan / Connal

“And the way I was holding you made you all too aware of what I wanted,” he added with a faint laugh.

She flushed. “Yes.”

He smoothed her hair, noticing the way her body was resting against his, so trustingly, even though he was just as aroused now as he had been the morning he’d mentioned. “And now it doesn’t frighten you, does it?” he whispered, tilting her eyes up to his.

She searched his face softly. “No. Nothing about you frightens me or embarrasses me.”

He touched her cheek, her mouth, and his powerful legs trembled at the contact with hers. “Not even knowing how badly I want you?”

She shook her head. “Not even that. I—” She dropped her gaze.

“You—” He made her look at him. “Say it,” he whispered. “Say the words. I want it all.”

She should have denied how she felt. Or run. Something. “I love you,” she whispered with faint anguish in her tone.

His eyes caressed her face. “Such big eyes,” he breathed. “So soft. So full of secrets.” He bent and drew his mouth tenderly against hers. “You’re very special to me, Abby. Part of my life. I wish I could give you what you want. I wish I could give you back those words and offer you a future. But that would cheat us both ultimately. Marriage should be a joint commitment, with a foundation of shared love.” He sighed bitterly. “I…don’t know how to love. Justin and I were raised by our father, Abby. Our mother died when I was born. We never had a woman’s touch, and until your mother came along, Dad went from one woman to another like a bee to pollen.” He toyed with a strand of her hair. “I don’t understand commitment, because I never got a good look at it. The only thing I know about love is that it doesn’t last. Look at Justin. See what happened to him because it all went wrong.”

“At least he took the chance,” she said gently. “And it does last. Or didn’t you see how Justin and Shelby looked at each other while they were dancing?”

“Is that your idea of a perfect relationship?” he asked with a cold laugh. “A little love, followed by years of hating each other?”

“What’s your idea of perfection, Calhoun?” she replied. “A succession of one-night stands and a lonely old age at the end of the road, with no family, no one to love you, nothing to leave behind?”

He scowled down at her. “At least I won’t die of a broken heart,” he said.

“No,” she replied. “You won’t.” She pushed at his chest, but he wouldn’t move. “Let me go, please.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got a lot of work to get through.”

“And a date with Tyler,” he added mockingly.

She glanced up. “Tyler is solid, capable, very masculine and a good marriage risk. He isn’t afraid of commitment. He’ll make a good husband.”

“You aren’t marrying Tyler,” he said shortly.

“Not unless he asks me,” she agreed.

“You aren’t marrying him even if he does.”

“How do you plan to stop me?” she asked curiously.

“Guess.”

She cocked her head, staring up at his stubborn face. “Why bother? You don’t want me, except in bed. I want someone who can love me.”

He shifted restlessly. “Maybe love can be taught,” he said uncomfortably. He stared down at her hands on his chest. “Maybe you could teach me how.”

She didn’t feel as if her feet were touching the floor anymore. Could she possibly have heard him say that?

“I’m only twenty,” she reminded him, “and your ward, and you don’t want commitment—”

His mouth covered hers in midsentence, tenderly probing, pushing at it, savoring it. “Kiss me, Abby,” he whispered into her mouth.

“I don’t want—” she tried to protest.

“Love me, baby,” he breathed.

Her arms slid under his jacket and around him. She pressed close, holding him, giving him her mouth with all the wonder and generosity of her love for him. She felt his lips smile against hers, heard his soft breathing, and then he increased the pressure of his mouth and his arms and she went under in a maze of stars.

A long time later, he groaned and his mouth slid to her throat, his arms contracting as he tried to breathe. “That,” he whispered roughly, “was a mistake.”

She could hardly get her own breath, and she knew it was much harder for him. She smoothed his cool, thick hair, gently soothing him, comforting him as he fought for control.

Her lips pressed light, undemanding kisses to his cheek, his temple, his closed eyelids. He stood very still, giving her that freedom with a sense of wonder at how it felt to be caressed so tenderly.

His eyes opened when she stopped. “That was a nice touch,” he whispered, cupping her face in his warm hands. “Have you been talking to Misty again, or did you just think it might calm me down?”

“I read it in a book,” she confessed, lowering her flushed face.

“Reading about it and doing it are pretty different, aren’t they?” he asked gently.

“Yes.” She was still trying to breathe properly. Her fingers toyed with a button on his patterned shirt. He was warm, and she loved the feel and smell and closeness of his body towering over her.

“I’ve never made love to a virgin,” he whispered. His mouth touched her forehead with breathless tenderness. “I’d have to hurt you a little, maybe, at first.”

She felt waves of embarrassment wash over her at the vivid pictures in her mind. His big, nude body over hers in bed, covering her, his hands holding her…

“Does it always hurt?” she asked shyly.

“Not for a man,” he whispered, lifting his eyes to hers. “Not for you, either, if I could keep my head long enough to arouse you properly.”

Her heart was going like a trip hammer. “H…how…would you?”

He kissed the very tip of her nose. “Go out with me and I’ll show you.”

“On a date?” she whispered.

“Um hmm.” He nuzzled his cheek against hers. “Tomorrow night. I’ll take you to Houston. We’ll wipe out the bad memory of that last time there. We’ll dance and walk.” He brushed his mouth over her ear. “Remember, I have an apartment there,” he said slowly.

She closed her eyes. “No. I won’t go to your apartment.”

“It isn’t the last century,” he whispered. “We could be alone. We could make love.”

Her face flamed. “No,” she repeated.

“Abby…”