Long, Tall Texans: Calhoun (20 page)

"That's very profound," she whispered, trembling as his lean hand stroked gently over her taut breasts and down over her belly to the silken softness of her thighs.

"It's that," he agreed, bending to brush his lips across her mouth. ' 'Have I hurt you too badly, or is it all right if we make love again?"

She flushed, remembering their first time, the softness of his voice whispering to her to lie still after he'd realized how difficult it was going to be. And then he'd bridled his own needs so that he could rouse her all over again. The pain had been minimal, because the savage hunger he'd kindled in her had

surpassed pain or fear or even thought. She'd given everything he'd asked in the end, her body so completely his that he could have done anything to her.

"I'm all right now," she whispered, adoring his hard face with her eyes. "You made it all right."

"You were very much a virgin, Mrs. Ballenger," he said with faint traces of satisfied delight. "And it wasn't the easiest initiation."

She traced his chin. "I love you. And any way you loved me would have been all right."

He kissed her softly. "You make me feel humble."

"You make me feel wild," she gasped, arching as his hand moved. Her eyes widened as it moved again. "Yes...do...

that..."

He smiled through his own excitement as she responded to him. He enjoyed her innocence as he'd never imagined he could. He held back this time, drawing out his possession until she was crying with her arousal, until she was almost in torment from the need. And then he eased down, tenderly, coaxing her to bank down her own fires and settle into a new and achingly sweet rhythm that brought with it a fulfillment beyond her wildest dreams, beyond even his experience.

Afterward, he cradled her against his hard, damp body, trembling as he held her, stroked her. She'd gone with him every step of the way, and she was exhausted. So was he. She made an adventure of lovemaking, an exquisite expression of shared love. It was something he'd never known in a woman's arms. Whispering softly, he told her that.

She smiled as she lay nestled against him. "I don't have anyone to compare you with," she whispered. "But on a scale of ten, I'd give you a twenty."

Calhoun laughed softly, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly as he felt her snuggle close to him, her body fitting perfectly against his.

"Abby, how would you feel about living in the old Dempsey place?" he asked unexpectedly.

She opened her eyes. "That big Victorian house that you

and Justin bought last year? It's been remodeled and furnished, hasn't it? I thought you were going to use it for offices."

"I'd thought about it," he told her. "But I want to five there with you."

"There, and not with Justin?" she asked softly.

He touched her hair. "It will make fife hell for him if we're under the same roof."

"Yes, I know. To see how happy we are will only point out what he's lost." She smiled. "I'll live with you wherever you say."

He searched her eyes gently. Then he folded her up against him and drew the sheet over their damp bodies. "I love you, Abby," he said drowsily.

"I love you, too." She slid her arm across his broad chest and sighed contentedly. It was spring, and soon the pastures would be dotted with wildflowers and seed would begin sprouting everywhere. She closed her eyes, thinking about the long horizons and lazy summers and the promise of children playing around her skirts while she sat in the circle of Calhoun's arm and watched the cattle graze. It sounded like the most exciting kind of future to share—with a long, tall Texan at her side.