and he smiled. His thumbs edged toward the hard peaks and rubbed at them, feeling her shudder. “See how vulnerable we are to each other? You can’t be expected to know how rare this kind of thing is. I’ve lain awake nights ever since you left Providence, aching for you.”
Her eyes shot up to his. “But...”
“But what?” He brushed the disheveled hair away from her face, and his eyes darkened. “You said you’d write me.”
Her eyes fell to his firm mouth. “And you said you’d have your mother write me for you.”
He hesitated for a minute. “And you thought...yes, I understand now.” He rolled onto his back and lifted her over him to study her. “I had this crazy idea that I could keep you at arm’s length for another year or two—let this thing between us cool off a bit. Just until you could grow up.” He smiled ruefully at her quick frown. “And then when you left, the world went dark for me. I couldn’t work for missing you. And you wouldn’t even write, you little horror. I looked forward to Easter vacation—I was planning all sorts of reunions. Then you called Renée and said there was a boy...!”
She put her fingers over his mouth. “I chased you unmercifully,” she told him. “Everybody remarked about it. I kind of thought you came to see me that last day out of pity. I thought you felt sorry for me and then regretted what had happened and just wanted to forget it.”
“I did want to forget,” he confessed. “But I couldn’t, Priss.” His darkening eyes searched down her body to where she was pressed so closely against him, and they clouded perceptibly. “Sit up,” he breathed huskily. “Let me look at you, for God’s sake!”
Hypnotized, she drew away from him and watched his eyes blaze as they riveted to her.
“You...you’ve been going around...with Janie Weeks,” she accused softly. The way he was looking at her made her feel faint.
“Janie has nothing at all to do with you and me,” he said vaguely. He caught her around the rib cage and brought her breasts down to his mouth. “I kiss you here and taste rose petals,” he whispered hungrily, while his mouth nibbled and brushed until she gasped and began to moan helplessly.
He laid her back on the sofa, crushing her mouth under his. One skilled hand cupped, molded, and caressed her, and she wanted him suddenly as she’d wanted nothing else in her life.
He drew away to look at her, and what he saw in her face made him want to throw back his head and scream his frustration. The situation was impossible. He couldn’t do it, not on a sofa in someone else’s house, not in a flaming rush like this.
Priss watched John deliberate for a long moment and searched his eyes curiously. “John?”
“Marry me,” he said.
She trembled all over. Her hands lifted to his face and held it, caressed it. “What?”
“Marry me.” He bent and kissed her mouth, softly, tenderly. “Say yes, Priss. Come on. Just one word...”
“Yes!” she ground out. Her hands tightened, trying to hold his wandering mouth to hers.
“Not right away,” he explained. “I’ve got...a few problems to solve at the station. But by Christmas. Okay?”
“Can I come home with you?” she asked.
“No, darling.”
“Why?” she complained.
“Because distance is the only thing that will save your virginity,” he said bluntly. “I want you with a disgraceful lust; haven’t you noticed?”
“I want you, too.”
“Yes. But it has to be done properly,” he said heavily. He sat up and tugged her T-shirt back into place. “Once I’ve had you, Priss, I won’t be able to stop; don’t you know that?”
“It must be like eating potato chips.” She laughed wickedly.
“Much worse,” he told her. He smiled slowly. “And once you’ve had me, you’ll want me again. After the first time, anyway.”
She felt drunk on pleasure. “I wish we could do it on the beach the first time.”
“Pagan,” he teased, but his blood was running
Her eyes shot up to his. “But...”
“But what?” He brushed the disheveled hair away from her face, and his eyes darkened. “You said you’d write me.”
Her eyes fell to his firm mouth. “And you said you’d have your mother write me for you.”
He hesitated for a minute. “And you thought...yes, I understand now.” He rolled onto his back and lifted her over him to study her. “I had this crazy idea that I could keep you at arm’s length for another year or two—let this thing between us cool off a bit. Just until you could grow up.” He smiled ruefully at her quick frown. “And then when you left, the world went dark for me. I couldn’t work for missing you. And you wouldn’t even write, you little horror. I looked forward to Easter vacation—I was planning all sorts of reunions. Then you called Renée and said there was a boy...!”
She put her fingers over his mouth. “I chased you unmercifully,” she told him. “Everybody remarked about it. I kind of thought you came to see me that last day out of pity. I thought you felt sorry for me and then regretted what had happened and just wanted to forget it.”
“I did want to forget,” he confessed. “But I couldn’t, Priss.” His darkening eyes searched down her body to where she was pressed so closely against him, and they clouded perceptibly. “Sit up,” he breathed huskily. “Let me look at you, for God’s sake!”
Hypnotized, she drew away from him and watched his eyes blaze as they riveted to her.
“You...you’ve been going around...with Janie Weeks,” she accused softly. The way he was looking at her made her feel faint.
“Janie has nothing at all to do with you and me,” he said vaguely. He caught her around the rib cage and brought her breasts down to his mouth. “I kiss you here and taste rose petals,” he whispered hungrily, while his mouth nibbled and brushed until she gasped and began to moan helplessly.
He laid her back on the sofa, crushing her mouth under his. One skilled hand cupped, molded, and caressed her, and she wanted him suddenly as she’d wanted nothing else in her life.
He drew away to look at her, and what he saw in her face made him want to throw back his head and scream his frustration. The situation was impossible. He couldn’t do it, not on a sofa in someone else’s house, not in a flaming rush like this.
Priss watched John deliberate for a long moment and searched his eyes curiously. “John?”
“Marry me,” he said.
She trembled all over. Her hands lifted to his face and held it, caressed it. “What?”
“Marry me.” He bent and kissed her mouth, softly, tenderly. “Say yes, Priss. Come on. Just one word...”
“Yes!” she ground out. Her hands tightened, trying to hold his wandering mouth to hers.
“Not right away,” he explained. “I’ve got...a few problems to solve at the station. But by Christmas. Okay?”
“Can I come home with you?” she asked.
“No, darling.”
“Why?” she complained.
“Because distance is the only thing that will save your virginity,” he said bluntly. “I want you with a disgraceful lust; haven’t you noticed?”
“I want you, too.”
“Yes. But it has to be done properly,” he said heavily. He sat up and tugged her T-shirt back into place. “Once I’ve had you, Priss, I won’t be able to stop; don’t you know that?”
“It must be like eating potato chips.” She laughed wickedly.
“Much worse,” he told her. He smiled slowly. “And once you’ve had me, you’ll want me again. After the first time, anyway.”
She felt drunk on pleasure. “I wish we could do it on the beach the first time.”
“Pagan,” he teased, but his blood was running
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