Regan's Pride. Diana Palmer
cover the expression in them. “You want me. Your eyes tell me so every time you look at me. You can walk away from dances or refuse to speak to me on the street, but you’re only fooling yourself if you think it doesn’t show!”
Her dark blue eyes had glittered up at him with temper. “You’re very conceited!”
He’d paused to light a cigarette, but as his eyes swept over her, he suddenly tossed it off the porch into the sand and stepped forward. “It isn’t conceit.” He bit off the words, jerking her into his body.
His hand caught her by the nape and held her face poised for the downward descent of his. Her missed breath was audible.
The look in her eyes made him hesitate. Despite all her denials, she looked as if he was offering her heaven. Her breath came in sharp little jerks that were audible.
That excited him. His free hand went to her bodice and spread at the top of the V-neckline against her soft, warm skin. She gasped and as her mouth opened, his lips parted and settled on it. Her faint, anguished moan sent him spinning right off the edge of the world.
He forgot her age and his conscience the second he felt her soft, warm mouth tremble before it began to answer the insistent pressure of his own. He remembered too well the first taste he’d had of her, because his dreams had tormented him ever since. He’d thought he was imagining the pleasure he’d had with her, but he wasn’t. The reality was just as devastating as the memory, and he couldn’t help himself.
The hand behind her head contracted, bringing her mouth in to closer contact with his, and his free hand slid uninhibitedly down inside her bodice to cover one small, hard-tipped breast.
She protested, but not strongly enough to deter him. The feel of that big, warm, callused hand so intimately on her skin made her tremble with new sensations. She clung to his arms while he tasted and touched. She barely noticed the tiny strap being eased down her arm, or the slow relinquishing of her mouth, until she felt his mouth slide down her throat, over her collarbone and finally onto the warm silkiness of her breast.
She made a harsh sound and her nails bit into his arms.
“Don’t cry out,” he whispered at her breast. “Bite back those exciting little cries or we’re going to become the evening’s entertainment.” His hand lifted her gently to his waiting mouth. He took the hard nipple inside and slowly, tenderly, began to suckle her.
She wept noiselessly at the ecstasy of his touch, clinging, shivering, as his mouth pleasured her. When it lifted, she hung against him, yielded, waiting, her eyes half-closed and misty with arousal. He looked at her face for one long instant before he pushed the other strap down her arm and watched the silky material fall to her waist. His hands arched her and his head bent. He hesitated just long enough to fill his eyes with the exquisite sight of her bare breasts before he took her inside his hungry mouth, and for a few brief, incandescent seconds, she flew among the stars with him.
She slumped against him when he finally managed to stop. She heard him dragging in long, ragged breaths while he lifted her bodice back into place and eased the shoulder straps up to support it. Then he held her while she shivered.
“Am I the first?” he asked roughly.
“Yes.” She couldn’t have lied to him. She was too weak.
The callused hands at her back contracted bruisingly for a minute. He cursed under his breath, furiously. “This is wrong. Wrong!” He bit off the words. “You’re so young…!”
Her soft cheek nuzzled against his throat. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you more than my own life.”
“Stop it!” He pushed her away. His eyes were frightening, glittery and dangerous. He moved back, his face rigid with controlled passion, tormented. “I don’t want your love!”
She looked at him sadly, her big blue eyes soft and gentle and vulnerable. “I know,” she said.
His face corded until it looked like a mask over the lean framework of his cheekbones. His fists clenched at his sides. “Stay away from me, Coreen,” he said huskily. “I have nothing to give you. Nothing at all.”
“I know that, too,” she said, her voice calm even as her legs trembled under her. At that moment, he looked capable of the worst kind of violence. “You won’t believe me, but I only came tonight because my father wanted me to.”
His face looked drawn, older. His eyes were like a rainy day, full of storms. “Don’t build any dreams on what just happened. It was only sex,” he said bluntly. “That’s all it was, just a flash of sexual need that got loose for a minute. I’ll never marry, and love isn’t in my vocabulary.”
“Because you won’t let it be,” she said quietly.
“Leave it alone, Coreen,” he returned coldly.
She felt the chill, as she hadn’t before. He was as unapproachable now as stone. The song that was playing inside suddenly caught her attention and she laughed a little nervously. “Thanks for the Memory.” She identified it, and thought how appropriate it was.
“Don’t kid yourself that this was any romantic interlude,” he said with brutal honesty as he fought for breath. “You’re just a kid…little more than a stick figure with two marbles for breasts. Now go away. Get out of my life and stay out!”
He’d walked off and left her out there. It was a summer night and warm. Coreen, wounded to the heart by that parting shot, had gone to her father’s car and sat down in it. She hadn’t gone back inside even when her father came out and asked what was wrong. A headache, she’d told him. He’d seen her leave with Ted, and he knew by the look on her face that she was hurt. He made their excuses and took her home.
Coreen had never gone to another gun club meeting or accepted another invitation from Sandy to come out to the ranch and ride horses. And on the rare occasions when Ted came into the store, she’d made herself scarce. She couldn’t even meet his eyes, ashamed of her own lack of control and his biting comment about her body. For a man who thought she was too small-breasted, he certainly hadn’t been reticent about touching her there, she thought. She knew so little about men, though, perhaps he meant the whole thing as a punishment. But if that had been so, why had his hands trembled?
Eventually she’d come to grips with it. She’d put Ted into a compartment of her past and locked him up, and she’d pretended that the night of the dance had never happened. Then her father had a heart attack and became an invalid. It was up to Coreen to run the business and she wasn’t doing very well. That was when Barry had come into her life. Coreen and her father had been forced to put the feed store on the market and Barry had liked the prospect of owning it. He’d also liked the looks of Coreen, and suddenly made himself indispensable to her and her father. Anything they needed, he’d get them, despite her pride and protests.
He was always around, offering comfort and soft kisses to Coreen, who was upset about the doctor’s prognosis, and hungry for a little kindness. Ted’s behavior had killed something vulnerable in her. Barry’s attention was a soothing balm to her wounds.
Ted had heard that his favorite cousin, Barry, was seeing a lot of Coreen. Ted stopped by often to see her father, and he watched her now, in an intense, disturbing way. He was gentle, almost hesitant, when he spoke to her. But Coreen had learned her lesson. She was distant and barely polite, so remote that they might have been strangers. When he came close, she moved away. That had stopped him in his tracks the first time it happened.
After that, he became cruel with her, at a time when she needed tenderness desperately. He began to taunt her about Barry, out of her father’s hearing, mocking her for trying to entice his rich cousin to take care of her. Everyone knew that the feed store was about to go bankrupt because of the neglect by her sick father and his mounting medical bills.
The taunts frightened her. She knew how desperate their situation was becoming, and she daren’t ask Ted for help in his present mood. Ironically his attitude pushed her further into Barry’s waiting arms. Her vulnerability