sharing before. Her palm glided over his hip to his abdomen to more intimate flesh. He stopped moving, and a shudder took his body, then his lips softened on hers, their pressure suddenly tender. “Loren. You’re so small. If I hurt you…”
“You couldn’t,” she whispered back. So sure. Rationally, perhaps she was not so sure, but her emotional instincts already had the answers. He was impossibly tender for a man of such physical power and size; his touch had more giving than taking.
“My sweet lover,” he murmured as he took her lips again…and again. Her throat released little erratic sounds; a silken sheen of moisture was beginning to coat both their skins. His hand stroked the length of her over and over, each time teasing closer to the feminine core of her. Her nails dented his back when he touched, invaded…“Please,” she murmured helplessly.
Her skin was on fire; the dark desire in his expression pulsing through her bloodstream. She could feel restless tears in her eyes when he moved over her, soothing her with soft love words, and then he was within, filling her to her soul. The silken seduction was completed; neither of them wanted to dally any longer. It was a fierce climb up, a splintering of the senses, a wild, uncontrollable feeling of soaring. Explosive shudders echoed over and over in Loren’s body, she heard Buck’s hoarse cry.
He held her cheek to his chest for a long time afterward. Loren felt drained, even bewildered by the explosiveness released in her own body. Buck kept stroking, stroking…until her breathing became normal, until she became conscious again. The fire was sputtering in the stove, the daylight fading rapidly; there was a soft quilt beneath her.
“That was a mistake, you know.” Buck’s palm lingered on her throat, then arched her neck back so he could see her face. Sleepy and flushed, her features seemed different after lovemaking, and the look in his eyes was possessive, taking in the unique and intimate loveliness that he had brought out in her. “Definitely a mistake,” he growled. “You just lost the option to back out, Loren. I’ll never let anyone else touch you.”
She half smiled, shaking her head just slightly at his nonsense, still bemused by his loving. He kissed her forehead gently. “You love me, little one.”
“I love you,” she agreed. It wasn’t hard.
“I don’t know how you managed celibacy for all this time, Loren, but you certainly weren’t cut out to be a nun.” He shifted, sitting up to draw on his shirt, clearly amused at the sudden color in her cheeks. “In fact, it doesn’t make sense,” he said gently. “Did that ex-husband of yours leave scars, or have you still been caring for him all this time?”
He got up, motioned her sternly to stay on the floor as he put on his jeans. He went into the kitchen but returned just moments later with two glasses of dark red wine. She accepted hers, taking just a short sip, wanting very much to give him an honest answer to his question without quite knowing what to say. It had been important to her in her marriage that she please Hal sexually, and from his responses, she believed she had. But her own responses had been of a different nature, and until now she had always seen herself as loving but not particularly passionate. She had needed no outlet for what she didn’t believe she possessed, and she had always had dozens of places where she could expend other kinds of love from her family to her men at the plant…
“Loren? Is it memories?” he probed.
“No, nothing like that,” she assured him finally. “It was more…just having to put some needs out of my mind, Buck. Responsibilities always interfered with forming certain relationships…”
“Yes,” he murmured as he bent down to add wood to the stove. “We’re about to talk about that, Loren. We’re about to talk about a lot of things.”
Chapter Eight
The bread was in the oven, the potatoes washed and jacketed in
“You couldn’t,” she whispered back. So sure. Rationally, perhaps she was not so sure, but her emotional instincts already had the answers. He was impossibly tender for a man of such physical power and size; his touch had more giving than taking.
“My sweet lover,” he murmured as he took her lips again…and again. Her throat released little erratic sounds; a silken sheen of moisture was beginning to coat both their skins. His hand stroked the length of her over and over, each time teasing closer to the feminine core of her. Her nails dented his back when he touched, invaded…“Please,” she murmured helplessly.
Her skin was on fire; the dark desire in his expression pulsing through her bloodstream. She could feel restless tears in her eyes when he moved over her, soothing her with soft love words, and then he was within, filling her to her soul. The silken seduction was completed; neither of them wanted to dally any longer. It was a fierce climb up, a splintering of the senses, a wild, uncontrollable feeling of soaring. Explosive shudders echoed over and over in Loren’s body, she heard Buck’s hoarse cry.
He held her cheek to his chest for a long time afterward. Loren felt drained, even bewildered by the explosiveness released in her own body. Buck kept stroking, stroking…until her breathing became normal, until she became conscious again. The fire was sputtering in the stove, the daylight fading rapidly; there was a soft quilt beneath her.
“That was a mistake, you know.” Buck’s palm lingered on her throat, then arched her neck back so he could see her face. Sleepy and flushed, her features seemed different after lovemaking, and the look in his eyes was possessive, taking in the unique and intimate loveliness that he had brought out in her. “Definitely a mistake,” he growled. “You just lost the option to back out, Loren. I’ll never let anyone else touch you.”
She half smiled, shaking her head just slightly at his nonsense, still bemused by his loving. He kissed her forehead gently. “You love me, little one.”
“I love you,” she agreed. It wasn’t hard.
“I don’t know how you managed celibacy for all this time, Loren, but you certainly weren’t cut out to be a nun.” He shifted, sitting up to draw on his shirt, clearly amused at the sudden color in her cheeks. “In fact, it doesn’t make sense,” he said gently. “Did that ex-husband of yours leave scars, or have you still been caring for him all this time?”
He got up, motioned her sternly to stay on the floor as he put on his jeans. He went into the kitchen but returned just moments later with two glasses of dark red wine. She accepted hers, taking just a short sip, wanting very much to give him an honest answer to his question without quite knowing what to say. It had been important to her in her marriage that she please Hal sexually, and from his responses, she believed she had. But her own responses had been of a different nature, and until now she had always seen herself as loving but not particularly passionate. She had needed no outlet for what she didn’t believe she possessed, and she had always had dozens of places where she could expend other kinds of love from her family to her men at the plant…
“Loren? Is it memories?” he probed.
“No, nothing like that,” she assured him finally. “It was more…just having to put some needs out of my mind, Buck. Responsibilities always interfered with forming certain relationships…”
“Yes,” he murmured as he bent down to add wood to the stove. “We’re about to talk about that, Loren. We’re about to talk about a lot of things.”
Chapter Eight
The bread was in the oven, the potatoes washed and jacketed in
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