Rage of Passion by Diana Palmer Page B

and closed her eyes, drinking in his strength and warmth and masculinity. He made her feel so small and vulnerable, so protected. Nothing would ever happen to her when Gabe was around.
    His lean fingers trailed down her arm and suddenly, shockingly, onto her blouse.
    “Don't,” she whispered, catching his wrist.
    “You let me do it before,” he whispered back, brushing his hard mouth over hers. “You aren't going to tell me you don't enjoy it, are you?”
    “It's…it isn't…right,” she faltered, searching for the words that would express what she felt.
    He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Because I'll think you're easy?” he asked matter-of-factly. “Now that's a hell of a misconception. I know plenty about you, Maggie Turner. What I know best is that you've had a rough time with men and that you're about as clued up as a pretty kid at a carnival. Do you think I'm callous enough to play around with you under those circumstances?”
    The question floored her. She hadn't expected such a blunt explanation.
    “No,” she had to answer him honestly. “No, I don't think you're callous.”
    “Then let go of my wrist, sweet, and let me show you how good it feels to have my hand on your warm skin,” he breathed, smiling as he bent again to her mouth.
    He was a bulldozer, she thought dimly. A human, blue-eyed bulldozer with a mouth as sweet as mountain honey. He opened her lips with his and pushed his tongue gently into her mouth, feeling her stiffen at the new intimacy.
    “Give it a chance,” he whispered. “Deep kisses are an acquired taste. Let me.”
    She hesitated for an instant but then she gave in, letting his tongue invade her mouth. It was frightening, the sudden explosion of feeling that the searching motion caused in her body. She stiffened again, but not in rejection; she moaned, gripping his hard arms.
    Meanwhile, one lean hand had moved the fabric of her blouse aside and was sliding warmly under it and around her. She felt the clasp of her bra give suddenly and the cool breeze of the room on her bare flesh. Her nipple hardened even as his fingers began to search teasingly at the edge of her breast, lightly exploring.
    Her breath sounded odd. It caught in her throat and sighed out in little gasps. He heard it and smiled even through his own wild excitement.
    “God, you set me on fire,” he murmured, lifting his head as his hands slid around her and under her breasts, holding their warm, soft weight as he stared directly into her shocked eyes. His thumbs edged up, and she shuddered as they found and tested the tiny peaks of her breasts. “I'm not hurting you, am I?” he asked softly. “I haven't touched a woman like this for a long time.”
    “It doesn't hurt,” she said, her voice husky.
    He looked down and expertly lifted the bra away so that her breasts were revealed, small and high and very firm. “Yes,” he said with a kind of reverence. “Yes, this is how I pictured you, all the long years in between—sweet, pretty little breasts so soft and warm in my hands—”
    “Gabriel!” she burst out, shocked by his intimate description of her.
    “Don't cover them,” he whispered, bending to her parted lips. “Let me look at you. Let me touch you. We're both adults, Maggie. We're hurting no one.”
    He had such a silky, deep voice. It hypnotized her. She stayed very still, trembling softly as he caressed her mouth with his lips. His hands cupped her, testing her softness, adoring her womanliness.
    She felt her body stretching, arching upward to savor what he was doing to it. Her head fell back, her eyes half-closed. She was sixteen again, burning for him, aching for his body. Dennis and all unpleasantness was pushed to the back of her mind, while Gabe held her body in ardent bondage.
    He lifted his lips from hers and looked down, watching her body plead. “Yes,” he whispered. “I want that, too, Maggie.”
    He bent, lifting her against his arm, and softly brushed his mouth over