Dreamkeepers by Dorothy Garlock

rigid as she fought the tremors of longing that were already shaking her control. She stifled the sob that rose in her throat and resisted surrender when his mouth came to rest on hers. His probing tongue encountered sealed lips where minutes ago it had found eager admittance. His hands became more demanding, his lips more persuasive, and she parted her own lips to object, to protest that she didn’t want him again. He used that instant to find what he was seeking, and the touch of his tongue on her threatened to rob her of the ability to think, to remember the cold-eyed man who had treated her scornfully in Boston.
    No! her pride screamed. He didn’t love her. He was using her to satisfy his sexual lust. Her body shook with a different kind of tremor that Jonathan responded to immediately. He lifted his mouth and she buried her face against the damp, matted hair on his chest. Tenderly his fingers raised her face and moved over her cheeks, wet with tears.
    “Don’t make love to me again. Please . . . I don’t want you to,” she stammered.
    “All right, sweetheart. But were my caresses so terrible?” His voice was soft and persuasive. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” His lips were moving over her face, absorbing her tears. “I know I did.”
    “I don’t want to get pregnant,” she blurted out. “I would hate it!”
    He remained still for a long while, raining gentle kisses on her face and holding her very tightly.
    “Are you sure, Kelly? Are you sure you don’t want us to have a child?” he whispered in her ear, and kissed her so gently that her whole body cried out for him.
    She raised tear-drenched lashes that fluttered against his cheek. A wave of helplessness came over her, and she whimpered. As if in torment, she tightened her arms about his neck and hungrily sought his lips, wanting to escape her anguished thoughts. He remained perfectly still as her mouth moved over his.
    “This is all we have,” she sobbed helplessly. “I despise your snobbish way of life and you’ll hate mine after you’ve tried it. It would be criminal for us to have a child. No! I never want to have a child by you, Jonathan!”
    Her words made him go rigid. “If you’re sure, Kelly,” he said slowly. “If you’re very sure you never want to have my child, I’ll go to Anchorage and have a vasectomy.”
    His words stunned her. Had he really said them? He would give up, forever, the chance to have a child of his own?
    “No!” Her arms clutched him frantically and her hands moved over his powerful body. “No! I couldn’t let you do that. Oh, Jonathan, what are we going to do?”
    His arms pulled her closer as her tears wet his chest. He rained kisses on her brow, cheeks, and throat. Her own mouth blindly sought comfort, tasting her salty tears on his lips, and the tang of his skin. The driving force of her passion was taking her beyond reason, beyond fear.
    “Don’t think about it, darling. If you don’t want a baby, we’ll do something about it. But for now . . . we’ll have to take the risk, because I can’t stop. . . .”
    She sighed deeply and then blocked out everything but this moment . . . this night. She heard his ragged breathing as if from far away, and then she pulled him to her. Gradually the storm of passion overpowered them and they made wild, uninhibited love.
    Afterward she lay quietly beside him. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, like a child seeking comfort. She held him and stroked him without speaking. But she couldn’t dismiss a feeling of impending doom. Her need for him was making her a prisoner and inwardly she rebelled.
    “I could have you again,” he whispered hoarsely against her breast.
    Kelly’s mouth went dry. “Again?”
    He laughed and nibbled her skin. “It’s been a long, dry spell.”
    “Am I supposed to believe that?” she asked quietly.
    “Absolutely,” he said firmly and caught the lobe of her ear with his teeth and nipped it before burying his face in the