The Men of Medicine Ridge - Diana Palmer [22]
It brought back memories of the rainy night he’d come to sit with her after Carl was killed. He’d held her close in his arms that night, too, and he’d pulled her hands inside his shirt, against his bare chest. She remembered his sudden, frightening loss of control….
Her hand stilled against him as she drew her mouth from under his and looked at him with traces of apprehension in her drowsy eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She swallowed. “I don’t want to…to make things difficult for you,” she said finally.
“They’re already difficult.” He shifted her in his arms so that her head lay in the crook of his arm, and his hand went under her blouse and around her to unfasten the hooks on her bra.
“We shouldn’t,” she tried to protest.
He lifted his head and looked around for a few seconds before his gaze came back to her. “There isn’t a car in sight,” he said. “And I’m not planning to ravish you within sight of a major highway.”
“I knew that.”
“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll let you go,” he said bluntly, hesitating.
She wanted to. She really did. He looked impossibly arrogant with his shirt half unbuttoned and his mouth swollen from the long, hard contact with her lips. His hair was mussed by her fingers, and he looked somber and dangerous. She should tell him to let her go. But his fingers were tracing under her arm, and her traitorous body was writhing in an attempt to get his hand where she really wanted it. She could barely breathe as she twisted helplessly against him.
“That’s what I thought,” he said quietly, and he shifted her again, just enough to give him room to pull the blouse and bra up, baring her breasts to his intent scrutiny.
Natalie couldn’t get enough breath to make a token protest. She loved letting him look at her. She loved the slow, gentle tracing of his fingertips on her delicate skin. She loved the way he looked at her, as if she were a work of art. It wasn’t possible to be ashamed.
“Nothing to say?” he teased softly.
“Nothing at all,” she whispered, her breath jerking with the little bites of pleasure he gave her with his tender exploration of her breasts.
His thumb moved roughly over her nipple, and she bit her lower lip as pure delight arched her against him.
“I’ve never felt with anyone the things I feel with you,” he breathed as his head lowered. “Some nights, I think I’ll go stark raving mad from just the dreams.”
She barely heard him. His mouth suddenly covered her breast, and he suckled her, hard.
The cry she made was audible. She trembled as he fed on her soft, smooth skin. It was cool in the cab of the truck, but she was burning all over. Her arms looped around his neck, and she hid her hot face in his neck as the pressure of his mouth increased until it almost made her weep with pleasure.
She pulled at his head, trying to get his mouth even closer, but he pulled back, his eye stormy as it met hers.
“Don’t,” he said gently. “You’ll make me hurt you.”
“It won’t hurt me.” She shivered. Her eyes were as turbulent as the emotions that were overwhelming her. “Don’t stop,” she whispered unsteadily.
His fingers traced the curve of her breast, and he looked down to watch her body lift up against them.
“Your skin is like silk,” he said huskily. “I can’t get enough of it.” He bent again, his hard mouth smoothing over her in a caress that made her moan.
She arched up, totally without inhibitions, loving his warm lips on her body.
The sound of a car in the distance brought his head up reluctantly. He glanced at the highway, grimaced and helped her sit. “I thought we were alone on the planet,” he murmured with a forced laugh. “I suppose it was wishful thinking. Need any help?” he asked as she fumbled behind her for catches.
“I can do it.” She glanced at the car as it whizzed past. So much for isolation, she thought, and flushed when she realized how embarrassed she would have been if the car had pulled in behind them and stopped instead of going on its way.
He watched her loop her seat belt across her chest and fasten it. He did the same with