Cattleman's Choice by Diana Palmer Page B

hard thighs brushed her own and never in her life had she felt weaker or more vulnerable.
    â€œI’m afraid.” She didn’t know that she’d said it out loud, or that Carson’s pale blue eyes glittered like diamonds when he heard her.
    â€œYes, I know,” he breathed into her hair. His fingers slid between hers caressingly. “I won’t hurt you.”
    Her nails pressed unconsciously against his chest and he stiffened. She frowned, drawing back so that she could see his face. What she found there disturbed her.
    His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched. “No, you aren’t the only one who’s vulnerable,” he said curtly.
    Her fascinated eyes searched his. Her rebellious hands liked his visible reaction to them. They opened the top button of his shirt, and his breath caught, but he didn’t make a move to stop her.
    Her lower lip trembled. “I…Carson?” she whispered questioningly.
    â€œGo ahead,” he breathed. “Do it.”
    â€œBut…”
    His open mouth touched her forehead. “Do it.”
    He was trembling already. By the time she fumbled open the shirt and eased the edges aside, his quickened breathing was visible as well. Fascinated, she put her hands flat on the hair-roughened flesh and began to caress him with slow, tentative movements. He seemed to like what she was doing, if the intent hardness of his expression was any indication.
    She slid her hands around to his muscular back and laid her hot cheek against his bare skin and closed her eyes. He smelled clean and sexy, and she drew her cheek, then her lips, against his body with dreamy motions.
    His fingers tangled in her hair and turned her face, so that her mouth was against him.
    â€œKiss me,” he whispered. “No, honey, not like that. Open your mouth and do it. Yes,” he groaned unsteadily, and his hands grew rough. “Yes.”
    She drew her mouth over every hard inch of his chest, up to his shoulders, his throat, his chin. But even on tiptoe, she couldn’t reach his mouth.
    â€œCarson,” she moaned protestingly, tugging at his thick hair.
    â€œDo you want my mouth?” he whispered.
    â€œOh, yes,” she whispered back. She moved her body against his slowly. “Oh, yes, I want it very, very much!”
    He bent and touched her lips with his, savoring them for a few taut seconds until her mouth opened. His arms drew her close, his hand held the back of her head still, and the kiss became explosive and hot. He groaned as he felt her quick, fervent response to it. His hands moved down to her hips and pushed them against his, and this time she didn’t protest.
    Her hands worshipped him, running hungrily up his spine, to his shoulder blades, around to his hard ribs and, daringly, to the muscular stomach above his belt.
    He shuddered and lifted his head. She stared up at him with dazed, misty eyes and a swollen mouth.
    â€œShouldn’t I touch you like that?” she whispered.
    â€œI like letting you touch me like that,” he replied huskily. “Unfasten it.”
    She flushed. “No, I couldn’t!”
    He held her hands against him, tenderly. “It’s my body, isn’t it?” he whispered. “If I don’t mind, why should you? Aren’t you curious?”
    She was. She’d never wanted to touch a man that way, not even Ben when she was eighteen, and the realization shook her to her very shoes.
    â€œMandy,” he said quietly, “I wouldn’t seduce you. You’d have to want it, too, before I’d go that far.”
    â€œBut…”
    â€œBut what, honey?” He bent and brushed his lips across her eyebrows, her closed eyes.
    â€œWhy…are you making love to me?”
    His mouth smiled. “Because it feels good. Because I’ve never made love to a virgin.”
    She drew back and studied him curiously. “Never?” she whispered.
    He shook his head, smiling.