Harden. Diana Palmer
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long legs. He probably did a lot of physical work around his ranch, because he was certainly fit. But his strength wasn’t affecting her nearly as much as the feel of his big, lean hands against her back, and the warmth of his arms around her. He smelled of delicious masculine cologne and tobacco, and her lower body felt like molten liquid all of a sudden.
His fingers moved into the hair at her nape and their tips gently massaged her scalp. She felt his warm breath at her temple while he held her.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She hadn’t really cried since the accident. She made up for it now, pressing close to him innocently for comfort.
But the movement had an unexpected consequence, and she felt it against her belly. She stiffened and moved her hips demurely back from his with what she hoped was subtlety. All the same, her face flamed with embarrassment. Four brief months of marriage hadn’t loosened many of her inhibitions.
Harden felt equally uncomfortable. His blood had cooled somewhat with age, and he didn’t have much to do with women. His reaction to Miranda shocked and embarrassed him. Her reaction only made it worse, because when he lifted his head, he could see the scarlet blush on her face.
“Thanks again for looking after me last night,” she said to ease the painful silence. Her hands slid around to his broad chest and rested there while she looked up into pale, quiet eyes in a face like stone. “I won’t see you again?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be wise.”
“I suppose not.” She reached up hesitantly and touched his beautiful mouth, her fingertips lingering on the full, wide lower lip. “Thank you for my life,” she said softly. “I’ll take better care of it from now on.”
“See that you do.” He caught her fingers. “Don’t do that,” he said irritably, letting her hand fall to her side. He moved back, away from her. “I have to go.”
“Yes, well, I won’t keep you,” she managed, embarrassed all over again. She hadn’t meant to be so forward, but she’d never felt as secure with anyone before. It amazed her that such a sweeping emotion wouldn’t be mutual. But he didn’t look as if he even liked her, much less was affected by her. Except for that one telltale sign…
She went with him to the door and stood framed in the opening when he went out onto the porch.
He turned, his eyes narrow and angry as he gazed down at her. She looked vulnerable and sad and so alone. He let out a harsh breath.
“I’ll be all right, you know,” she said with false pride.
“Will you?” He moved closer, his stance arrogant, his eyes hot with feeling. His body throbbed as he looked at her. His gaze slid to her mouth and he couldn’t help himself. He wanted it until it was an obsession. Reluctantly he caught the back of her neck in his lean hand and tilted her face as he bent toward her.
Her heart ran wild. She’d wanted his kiss so much, and it was happening. “Harden,” she whispered helplessly.
“This is stupid,” he breathed, but his mouth was already on hers even as he said it, the words going past her parted lips along with his smoky breath.
She didn’t even hesitate. She slid her arms up around his neck and locked her hands behind his head, lifting herself closer to his hard, rough mouth. She moaned faintly, because the passion he kindled in her was something she’d never felt. Her legs trembled against his and she felt the shudder that buffeted him as his body reacted helplessly to her response.
He felt it and moved back. He dragged his mouth away from hers, breathing roughly as he looked down into her dazed eyes. “For God’s sake!” he groaned.
He pushed her back into the apartment and followed her, elbowing the door shut before he reached for her again.
He wasn’t even lucid. He knew he wasn’t. But her mouth was the sweetest honey he’d ever tasted, and he didn’t seem capable of giving it up.
She seemed equally helpless. Her body clung to his, her mouth protesting when he started to lift his. He sighed softly, giving in to her hunger, his mouth gentling as the kiss grew longer, more insistent. He toyed with her lips, teasing them into parting for him before his tongue eased gently past her teeth.
He felt her gasp even as he heard it. His hand smoothed her cheek, his thumb tenderly touching the corner of her mouth while his lips brushed it, calming her. She trembled. He persisted until she finally gave in, all at once, her soft body almost collapsing against him. His tongue pushed completely into her mouth and she shivered with passion.
The slow, rhythmic thrust of his tongue was so suggestive, so blatantly sexual, that it completely disarmed her. She hadn’t expected this from a man she’d only met the day before. She hadn’t expected her headlong reaction to him, either. She couldn’t seem to let go, to draw back, to protest this fierce intimacy.
She moaned. The sound penetrated his mind, aroused him even more. He felt her legs trembling against his blatant arousal, and he forced his mouth to lift, his hands to clasp her waist and hold her roughly away from him while he fought for control of his senses.
Her face was flushed, her eyes half closed, drowsy with pleasure. Her soft mouth was swollen, still lifted, willing, waiting.
He shook her gently. “Stop it,” he said huskily. “Or I’ll have you right here, standing up.”
She stared up at him only half comprehending, her breath jerking out of her tight throat, her heart slamming at her ribs. “What…happened?” she whispered.
He let go of her and stepped back, his face rigid with unsatisfied desire. His chest heaved with the force of his breathing. “God knows,” he said tersely.
“I’ve…I’ve never…” she began, flustered with embarrassment.
“Oh, hell, I’ve ‘never,’ either,” he said irritably. “Not like that.” He had to fight for breath. He stared at her, fascinated. “That can’t happen again. Ever.”
She swallowed. She’d known that, too, but there had been a tiny hope that this was the beginning of something. Impossible, of course. She was a widow of barely one month, with emotional scars from the loss of her husband and child, and he was a man who obviously didn’t want to get involved. Wrong time, wrong place, she thought sadly, and wondered how she was going to cope with this new hurt. “Yes. I know,” she said finally.
“Goodbye, Miranda.”
Her eyes locked with his. “Goodbye, Harden.”
He turned with cold reluctance and opened the door again. He could still taste her on his mouth, and his body was taut with arousal. He paused with the doorknob in his hand. He couldn’t make himself turn it. His spine straightened.
“It’s too soon for you.”
“I…suppose so.”
There had been a definite hesitation there. He turned and looked at her, his eyes intent, searching.
“You’re a city girl.”
That wasn’t quite true, but he obviously wanted to believe it. “Yes,” she said.
He took a slow, steadying breath, letting his eyes run down her body before he dragged them back up to her face.
“Wrong time, wrong place,” he said huskily.
She nodded. “Yes. I was thinking that, too.”
So she was already reading his mind. This was one dangerous woman. It was a good thing that the timing was wrong. She could have tied him up like a trussed turkey.
His gaze fell to her flat belly and it took all his willpower not to think what sprang to his mind. He’d never wanted a child. Before.
“I’ll be late for the workshop. And you’ll be late for work. Take care of yourself,” he said.
She smiled gently. “You, too. Thank