The Australian. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ rocked her damp body against his. “Hold me hard, darling,” he whispered into her ear, feeling the heat of her breasts through the cotton of his shirt. Her back under his hands was like silk. “Hold me. It will stop. Hold me hard.”

      She clung to him, vaguely embarrassed at the intensity of her response, wildly frustrated, wanting something he hadn’t given her but not realizing exactly what.

      “Oh, gosh,” she whispered, awed.

      “Now you know,” he said gently.

      Her nails bit into his shoulders, and she nuzzled her head into his neck, shuddering a little as her heartbeat calmed and her breath steadied. “You...weren’t going to stop...at first. Why...did you?” It was a statement, not a question.

      His big hand smoothed her hair slowly. “I could have made you pregnant.”

      Thrills of pleasure wafted through her. She might have liked that, being pregnant with his child. It wasn’t at all frightening. But it would be a poor way of getting him, a mean trick. She sighed.

      “I’d have let you,” she answered.

      He laughed softly. “Yes, I know. Delicious, delightful little virgin.” He bit her shoulder, quite hard, and she shuddered with unexpected pleasure and laughed.

      He half threw her back on the pillows and sat looking down at her seminudity with possessive, glittering blue eyes. “I’ve never wanted anyone so much,” he said huskily. “I was on fire for you. I still am.”

      It was plain speaking, and a little embarrassing—like her wanton behavior. He seemed to sense those uncertainties, because he smiled tenderly when she sat up and began to tug her dress back in place.

      “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said gently. “Only the two of us will ever know what happened here today.” He touched her mouth with a long finger. “And I won’t tell if you won’t.”

      That was the John she loved so much, teasing, mischievous. She couldn’t help smiling at him. He smiled back and bent, kissing her softly, amorously, as his hands drew the bodice down again. “I’ll never see anything else so beautiful as long as I live,” he ground out, staring at her pink skin where his mouth had pressed and pulled and tasted it, with something like reverence on his hard face.

      She flushed wildly and blushed even there, and he bent and kissed the shyness from her eyes, her mouth.

      His fingers moved the damp hair away from her face, and he looked at her as if she were a sunrise he was committing to memory. “You belong to me now,” he said quietly. “Keep your body for me, and no other man. I’ll wait for you.”

      “It belonged to you long before now,” she said in a choked tone, her eyes searching his. “John, I...!”

      He put his fingers over her lips. “Don’t say it.” His mouth replaced his fingers, and he kissed her with an expertise that left her moaning, in tears, when he lifted his head. “You’re very young,” he said, as if it bothered him. “There’s plenty of time.”

      “Plenty?” she queried. “When I’m leaving today?”

      “Darling,” he breathed, staring down at her, “if you weren’t leaving today, you might damned well find yourself in my bed by nightfall.”

      He got to his feet, stretching lazily and indulgently watched her efforts to rearrange her dress. There was possession in his eyes, and quiet pride, but she wasn’t looking.

      “See what happens when you avoid me?” he asked as she got to her feet, smoothing back her disheveled hair. “Frustration can push a man to the very limits.”

      She smiled shakily. “Was that what it was?”

      He caught her waist and pulled her to him. “What do you think it was?” he asked.

      She stared at his shirt, curious about how he looked without it. She’d only seen him that way from a distance, when he was working on fences with the men or digging a new bore.

      “It’s too late now,” he said deeply, his voice amused. “If you wanted to go on safari, you should have indulged yourself while we were lying together on the bed.”

      She flushed, and he laughed.

      “The months will pass,” he said lightly, giving her a last careless kiss. “Write to me.”

      “Could I?” she asked, breathless.

      “Of course.”

      “Will you write back?”

      He shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m not much good at letters, honey,” he confessed. “I’ll get Mother to write for me.”

      His words hurt her. They wouldn’t be love letters—he was saying as much. Perhaps he’d meant what they had just shared as a going-away present, a fond farewell. Something to make up for the times when he’d ignored her, crumbs from his table.

      She felt sick all over, but she was too proud to let it show. How could she have forgotten what her father had said, about John being glad to let her go, about his being too old to be interested in her?

      “I’ll see you at the Easter holidays,” he said. “You’ll be home then?”

      “Of course,” she said woodenly. “’Bye, John.”

      He traced her cheek lightly with his finger, and his eyes met hers in a long hot exchange, but he didn’t touch her again. “’Bye, Priss. Keep well.”

      “You, too.”

      And he was gone, leaving her with the memory of a few wild minutes in his arms. It might have been kinder, she thought, if he’d spared her that. Coming from heaven back to earth was painful. She went to the window and watched him drive away. He waved from the end of the driveway, and she knew that he was aware of her watchful eyes. He knew how she felt. It had all been a pacifier, a consolation prize. Give the girl a few kisses to thrill her.

      She went back to her suitcase and stared at it, denying her eyes the tears they wanted to shed. Well, she didn’t need John’s crumbs, thank you, she told herself. She’d go away and forget him. She’d forget him completely.

      Sure, she would. She sat down on the bed and wailed. The coverlet still smelled of the spicy cologne he wore. Her lips touched it with aching passion, and it was a long time before she could force herself to get up and finish packing.

      Hours later she said good-bye to her parents in Brisbane and climbed aboard a plane bound for the Hawaiian Islands. Despite the fact that she had promised herself she wouldn’t, her helpless eyes scanned the airport terminal for a glimpse of John. But he wasn’t there. Why should he be? He’d said his good-byes. She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. It was going to be a long day.

      Chapter Four

      Priss settled in at the University of Hawaii in Honolulu, on the island of Oahu, and found the diversity of cultures and races as fascinating as she’d found Australia. She lived off campus, with Aunt Margaret, and found her young-minded aunt a lively and delightful companion. When Priss wasn’t attending СКАЧАТЬ