Diana Palmer Collected 1-6. Diana Palmer

fingers contracted. “I think it would kill something in you to have a man treat you so,” he remarked.

      Her eyes came up, stunned at the way he understood.

      He nodded. “Yes. It’s that way with me, too. I don’t like ridicule.”

      Her expression said more than she wanted it to, and she knew that he could read the worshipful look in her eyes. But she didn’t care. He was her whole world.

      His breath caught at that look. It bothered him, and he let go of her hand. “Don’t ever try to build a wall around me,” he said unexpectedly, staring at her. “I’ll stay with you only as long as the doors remain open.”

      “I knew that the first time I saw you,” she said quietly. “No ties. No strings. I won’t try to possess you.”

      He started walking again. He wondered what she was going to do when she knew the truth about him. He glanced up, searching her face quietly. She was so damned trusting. She probably thought he was in the army reserves or something. He almost laughed. Well, she’d just have to get used to it, he told himself, because he didn’t know how to change.

      After they’d changed their status at the hotel desk and switched everything to his room they went downstairs for lunch. Dani picked at her food, wondering at the change in Eric. Something was on his mind, but she didn’t know him well enough to ask what it was. She glanced at him with a slow-dawning mischief in her eyes. Well, she couldn’t dig it out of him, but she could help him forget it.

      “Hey,” she called.

      He glanced up, cocking an eyebrow.

      “I have this great idea for dessert,” she murmured, making her first attempt at being a siren.

      Both eyebrows went up. “You do?”

      She dropped her eyes to his throat. “I could smear whipped cream all over myself…”

      “Honey tastes better.”

      She blushed furiously, and he laughed. He leaned forward, moving his plate aside, and lifted her fingers to his mouth.

      “Do you want me?” he asked bluntly, smiling at her averted face.

      “Yes,” she confessed.

      “Then say so. You don’t have to play games with me.” He got up, helped her up, and paid the check. They were back in the hotel room before he spoke again.

      He backed her up against the door and pinned her there with just the threat of his body. “You can have me anytime,” he said quietly. “All you have to do is tell me. That’s what marriage should be. Not some kind of power game.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”

      He brushed the hair away from her face and curled it behind her ear. “Bargaining, with sex as the prize.”

      “I’d never do that,” she said. She watched him, amazed that this handsome man was actually married to her. “You were worried about something. I wanted to…to give you peace.”

      He seemed to freeze. His lips parted on a hard breath. “I constantly misread you, don’t I?” He touched her throat with the lightest touch of his fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. “Do you want me?”

      “I’ll want you on my deathbed,” she said shakily.

      He bent and kissed her softly, tenderly. “I’m more grateful than I can tell you, for such a sweet offer. But I don’t think you can take me again today, not without considerable discomfort.” He lifted his head. “Can you?”

      She bit her lower lip. “Well…”

      “Can you?”

      She dropped her eyes to his chest. “Oh, shoot!” she mumbled. “No.”

      He laughed softly and drew her into his arms, rocking her slowly. “That’s why I was so gentle this morning,” he murmured into her ear, lying a little. He didn’t want to admit that she’d been the victor in that tender battle.

      “Oh.” That was vaguely disappointing, she mused. She slid her arms around him with a sigh, delighting in his strength, the corded power of his warm hard body. “It isn’t like this in books,” she concluded. She smiled as her eyes closed. “Women always can, and they never have discomfort, and—”

      “Life is very different,” he said. He smoothed her hair. “We’ll wait a day or so, until you recuperate. Then,” he added, tilting her face up to his amused eyes, “I’ll teach you some more subtle forms of sensual torture.”

      She laughed shyly. “Will you?”

      He took a deep breath. “I’ve never known anyone like you,” he said, the words reluctant. He drew her up on her tiptoes and kissed her very softly. “Feel what’s happening already?”

      “Yes,” she answered him.

      “We’d better cool it, if you don’t mind. I hate cold showers.”

      She laughed. “You’re terrific.” She sighed.

      “So are you. Get on a bathing suit and let’s go swim.”

      She started into the bathroom, met his mocking eyes, and stuck out her chin. “You’re my husband,” she said aloud, to remind both of them.

      “Yes, I was wondering if you might remember that.” He chuckled.

      She undressed and he watched, his eyes quiet and full of memories. When she started to pull on the bathing suit he moved in front of her and stayed her hands.

      “Not yet,” he said quietly.

      She looked up, hungry for him, and watched as he studied her body and saw for himself just how much she wanted him.

      “How is it, for a woman?” he asked suddenly, and sounded genuinely curious. “How do you feel when you want me like this?”

      “It’s frightening, a little,” she told him. “I get shaky and weak and I can’t quite control myself. I ache…”

      “Does this…help the ache?” he asked as he bent to her breasts.

      She moaned. It was impossible not to, when she felt the warm moistness of his lips eating her. She didn’t have a mind left after the first two seconds. She was hardly aware that he was lifting her onto the bed.

      He made a meal of her body, tasting, touching, looking at it, broad daylight streaming in the windows, while she gloried in the luxury of being married and enjoyed his pleasure in her.

      “I love looking at your body,” he said quietly, sitting beside her. His hands swept up and down, lingering on her soft curves. “I love touching it. Tasting it. I’ve never seen anything half so lovely.”

      “My husband,” she whispered.

      He looked up. “My wife.”

      Her body ached, and she knew he must feel the same longing she did. Her eyes asked a question, but he slowly shook his head.

      “I won’t do that to you,” he said curtly. “Not ever will I take my pleasure and not give a thought to yours.”

      She ground her teeth together to stop the tears.

      “And it isn’t pity,” he said, glaring at the look in her eyes. “I do nothing out of pity, least of all marry because of it. So you can stop looking at me that way. I want you and I’m getting irritable because I can’t have you. So suppose you put on the bathing suit and I’ll go have that damned cold shower and we’ll swim.”

      He got up and she lay there, watching him as he discarded his clothing. Her lips parted as the last of the clothing came off, and she saw the urgency of his desire.

      His body trembled as he looked at her, and she wanted to cry because of the torment she saw in his face.

      “You