Diana Palmer Collected 1-6. Diana Palmer

touching and exploring.

      He moaned softly, and his hands contracted, but his mouth was still tender even though she could feel his big body going rigid against her.

      Her eyes opened and found his watching her, passion blazing out of them, a hunger like nothing she’d ever seen in him.

      He lifted his head, his breath unsteady on her moist, parted lips. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered. “Please.”

      She swallowed, and her breasts lifted and fell with her breath. “Jacob…”

      His eyes closed as though he were in pain. “I thought I’d never hear you say my name like that again,” he said harshly.

      Her hands were against the front of his shirt, and she didn’t even know how they’d landed there. She was all too aware of what was under it, of how it felt to bury her fingers in that thick, cool mat of curling hair.

      “Don’t make things difficult for me,” she whispered helplessly.

      His hands slid around to the back of her head, tilting her face upward. “Do you think it’s easy for me, letting you go?”

      “Yes,” she said with a trembling smile. “You said yourself that you didn’t want any ties.”

      “Then why in God’s name do I die a little every time I walk away from you?” he asked curtly. “Why do I wake up with your name on my lips?”

      “I can’t be your lover!” she whispered. “I can’t!”

      His nose brushed against hers, his lips hovered above her mouth, teasing it, coaxing it to follow his. “It would be so easy,” he said softly, in a voice like dark velvet. “So easy. All it would take is ten minutes alone together with my mouth on yours and my hands under your blouse, and you’d give yourself with glorious abandon, the way you wanted to before I went to rescue Martina. Remember?” he breathed against her lips. “Remember, Gabby? You stood in my arms and let me touch you, and we rocked together and moaned…”

      “Jacob.” She hid her hot face against him. “Jacob, don’t, please!”

      His hands slid slowly down her back until they reached her hips and brought them into the curve of his, holding her there, pressing her there, so that she knew all too well what he wanted of her.

      “This is a public place,” she managed to say weakly, clinging to him.

      “Where you’re safe,” he replied thickly. “Because if I did this anywhere else, I couldn’t help what would happen. I want you so much.”

      “This is only making it worse,” she told him. She leaned her forehead against his chest. She could smell the tangy soap he used, the clean scent of the shirt he wore. Her hands spread over his hard muscles.

      His breath quickened at the almost imperceptible movement. “Unbutton it.” He breathed roughly. “Touch me there.”

      “There are people…!”

      “Yes.” His lips touched her closed eyelids, her forehead. “Touch me.”

      She could hardly breathe at all. He was drowning her in sensation, and she loved him so much it was torture. It was just going to be harder to leave him, but how could she fight this? Part of her was frightened of his strength, but a larger part remembered how it had felt when he was tender, when he’d been so careful not to hurt her.

      “I won’t ever hurt you again,” he whispered, lifting her fingers to the top button. “Not ever. I won’t overpower you, or make crude remarks to you. I’ll teach you to trust me, if it takes the rest of my life. Gabby…”

      She closed her eyes. Tentatively her fingers fumbled the first button free. He tensed as she found the second, and the third. She stopped there, resting against him, and eased her fingers just inside. They tingled as they came in contact with firm muscle and curling hair.

      He caught his breath, shifting his chest so that her fingers slid farther under the fabric.

      “You did that,” he reminded her in a sensuous undertone, “when I started to touch you under your nightgown, at the finca. Remember? You shifted and moved so that I could touch you more easily.”

      What she remembered most was the way it had felt when he’d touched her. Her eyes slowly opened, and he turned her face so that he could look into them.

      His own eyes were black with desire; his face was hard and drawn, his lips were parted. “Yes, I like that,” he whispered as she curled her nails against him and dragged them softly over his skin. “I like that.” His chest rose and fell heavily and still his eyes held hers. “If we made love, you could do that to every inch of me. And I could do it to you, with my mouth.”

      She trembled. He felt it and drew her slowly into his arms. He stood like that, just holding her, in a strangely passionless embrace while the world became calm.

      “Words,” he said over her head, his tone light and solemn at the same time. “So potent…Until you came along, I’d never made love to a woman with my mind.”

      She stared out at the sailboats on the lake and involuntarily one hand pressed closer against him. “We’re at an impasse,” she said after a minute.

      His cheek nudged her dark hair. “How?”

      She laughed bitterly. “J.D., I’m leaving next Friday.”

      “Maybe,” he said, and his arms tightened.

      “Definitely.” She pulled away from him, and he let her go immediately. She looked up. “Nothing has changed.”

      He let his eyes roam over her soft body. “At least you’ve stopped cringing.”

      “Thank you,” she replied. “For removing the scars. Now I can go on to a lasting relationship.”

      “Why not have it with me?” he asked. “I’m well-off. I’m sexy—”

      “You’re unreliable,” she said, interrupting him. “I want someone who doesn’t know an Uzi from a blender!”

      He sighed heavily, and his dark eyes were thoughtful. “I need a little time.”

      “Time won’t help,” she said. “You’re hooked again. It’s like the cigarettes, only worse. I can’t live my life standing at windows and waiting for telephones to ring.”

      “You’ll do that regardless.”

      She stopped dead and turned around, gaping at him. “What?”

      “You’ll do that anyway,” he said matter-of-factly, watching her. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket with a what-the-hell smile and lit it. “You’ll miss me. You’ll want me. You’re leaving the office, but the memories are portable and indestructible. You won’t forget me any more than I’ll forget you. We started something we haven’t finished, and it’s going to be between us all our lives.”

      “It’s just sex!” she yelled at him.

      Two young men walked past, grinned at J.D., and winked at Gabby, who was wishing she could sink into the sand. She hadn’t even heard them approach.

      She turned and fled back down the beach at a trot. J.D. was right beside her, effortlessly matching her steps and still smoking his cigarette. He finished it just as they reached the car, and he crushed it out before he joined her in the luxurious interior.

      “It isn’t just sex,” he said, turning to face her, one arm across the back of the seat and an odd expression on his face. He smiled slowly. “But sex is going to be one big part of our relationship in the not-too-distant future.”

      She glared at him. “You’d be lucky!”

      “No, you would,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. “When I mind my manners, I’m a force to be reckoned with. What I did to you in that bed was all bad temper and irritation. What I did to you the