Sweet Annie (28 page)

But when she met his kisses
so eagerly, ran her hands over his chest and pressed herself against him as
though she couldn't get close enough, urgency sprang up anew. He sat on the
edge of the mattress and peeled first one stocking down her thigh, calf, ankle...
then the other. She didn't help him quite as flu-idly with the right as she had
the left, and he remembered to be more accommodating.

His hesitation seemed to
cause her distraction, and she rose on one elbow, the fear returning to her features.

"Annie, I told you I don't care. You believe
me."

"What if I can't
really do this?" she asked, self-conscious now, as if she'd just
remembered her limitations.

"Can't make love?"

Her fair skin flushed from
her breasts all the way to her cheeks. "I'm not made like other
women," she whispered. "I'm afraid I can't be a true wife to
you."

Doubly frustrated, not only
with physical tension, but with her obvious skepticism, he sat up and thrust a
hand through his hair. "Do you have a regular monthly flow?'' he asked
bluntly.

Crimson, she nodded.

"Then frankly I don't
see the problem. You have all the parts you need to make love."

She blinked and he saw the
confusion behind her eyes. "But what if it's not good for you? What if I
can't—give you pleasure?"

"Annie,"
he said on an exhale. "Where did that come from?"

She shrugged.

“Why
you would worry about not giving me pleasure is beyond me. That would be
impossible. If you would be quiet for five minutes, you'd see that this—
ungrounded
worry
of yours is the only thing keepin' me from pleasure
at the moment."

"I'm sorry."

"You're
not the horribly deformed girl you picture in your head. Toss that picture out
of there." He thought a moment. "You can ride a horse, can't
you?"

"Yes, but—'' The
denial broke off midsentence.

He
gestured with an upraised palm as if to say,
There
you have it.

"Oh."
Illumination crossed her features. She raised a tentative smile. "Oh! Take
your trousers off, Luke. These, too."

"Remember
what I told you?" he said, obeying and sliding his clothing down his legs.
"My body is for your pleasure. It belongs to you."

"Oh, my," she
breathed, reaching for him.

"Holy—!"
He ground his teeth together at the exquisite pleasure of her explorative
touches.

"This isn't anything
like I imagined."

"I
suppose not." Lord, she was a talker. He covered her mouth in a kiss until
he couldn't bear her touches another second.

He helped her off with her
pantaloons, and she turned one side of her body away from him. "Don't hide
from me now. I love all of you, Annie."

She rolled to lie flat on
the bed and with an air of solemn apprehension let him look at her. Her hips
were not of equal proportions on both sides; one side of her pelvis jutted out
a trifle farther than the other. Not caring a bit, he caressed her silken pale
skin.

His
attention became distracted by the wispy red-gold curls, the soft curve of her
belly, the picture of her as a whole woman, flushed and lovely, with so many
vivid emotions lighting her lovely face.

"You
are beautiful, Annie," he said, emotion thick in his throat.

"No," she
whispered.

"Beautiful."
He stroked her from shoulder to hip, knee to toe, kissed the seductive arch of
her foot, the curve of her hip, the valley between her breasts, her hot moist
lips.

A
tiny sob escaped her, hiccuping against his mouth, jutting a breast flat to his
chest. He opened his eyes and saw hers, gray-green and luminous with tears. One
rolled from the comer of her eye into the hair at her temple. Luke dried the
path with his tongue.

A
flood followed, a stream of tears that tasted of salt and ate a hole right into
his heart. "Don't cry," he said gruffly.

"I'm not crying,"
she denied.

"What are these
then?"

"Sometimes my eyes
leak when I'm happy."

"Are you happy?"

She
clutched his cheeks fiercely between her palms. "I've never been so happy,
Luke. You make me happy. You loving me makes me happy. I have wanted this. Have
wished for and dreamed of this. I have loved you since I was ten years old.
Don't make me wait any longer, please."

"I
wasn't the one holding things up." He touched her then, finding her ready,
finding her eager and responsive. Kissing her, he talked to himself, speaking
silent reminders of caution and patience. She would have none of it.

He
tried to be gentle; she urged him to boldness. His attempt at preparing her
body leisurely was thwarted by her insistence. When he would have paused, she
demanded haste. And made a soft cry.

"I didn't want to hurt
you," he said.

"It
doesn't hurt," she assured him, framing his face with her hands.

"And your hip?''

"I'm
perfectly fine. Thank you, Luke, thank you for showing me and loving me."

He
groaned and held himself still. He kissed her so she'd know he cherished her.

"I'm
not going to break, you know." She moved beneath him, a quivering flex of
limbs and muscles that pushed him to the edge.

"I
am," he replied. He took a moment to gaze into her lovely eyes, to bask in
the need and the love and the fire, collecting himself, but holding back while
her muscles tightened and her limbs wrapped his body was like trying to stop a
runaway train. The rhythm came from inside his head, the sensations from
someplace deep and glittering, and there was no waiting.

Luke shuddered against her.

She'd
fallen asleep. After the sleepless night before and the physical and emotional
release of tension, it was no wonder. At the unfamiliar rustle of movement
beside her, Annie opened her eyes, disoriented. The first thing she saw was the
bare window with the setting sun streaking the sky purple and orange.

"Feel better?"

The
deep voice brought a familiar thrill. She turned to see Luke sprawled beside
her on top of the covers, dressed in his faded dungarees. Oh, my goodness. She
nodded and gratefully noted the crisp white sheet that he'd placed over her.
She held it to her breasts. The memory of their eager lovemaking sent a curl of
delight all the way to her bare toes.

She
had never imagined the wonder of it, the energy and heat of his mouth and body,
the sensations of him sliding against her, into her.... She closed her eyes.

"Good.
I sliced some ham and bread that Glenda sent. Are you hungry?"

Annie
examined the freshly painted ceiling a moment, placing her sensual thoughts
aside to consider his words and her empty stomach. "A little."

"Want to eat in bed or
go out there?''

She
studied his vivid blue eyes, let her gaze wander down to that glorious chest.
"Read my mind."

His
grin inched up. "You wish I'd put my shirt on."

"Nope."

"You
can't keep your hands off me, so you want to stay in here."

"Something
like that."

He
chuckled and kissed her. "Lord, you're fun."

She
threaded her fingers into the ebony mat on his chest. "Can I ask you
something?"

"Anything."

"Did
I—did you...."

"What?"

"Did I please
you?"

He
sighed against her hair. “Any more pleasure and I'd have died of it."

"So
I please you as much as those others did?"

He
looked at her and frowned. "I wish they had never happened so you didn't
have to think about it. There's nothing to compare. Those women were years ago
and it wasn't anything like this."

She brushed her fingers
over his nipple once. Twice, hoping to distract him from his annoyance.

"I
didn't love them, Annie. They didn't love me. Because you love me, what we
share is beyond simple physical pleasure. I have never wanted anyone like I
want you."

How she needed those words.
"Still?"

"Always."

"Did anyone ever watch
you shave?"

"Gil. Didn't have the
same effect, believe me."

She
laughed and snuggled her face against his chest where she'd wanted to place her
cheek ever since she'd first seen him without his shirt.

"Do I know any of
them?"

"Who?"

"Those women you made
love with years ago."

"It wasn't love and
Lord, no!"

“Well,
I wanted to be sure, just in case I was sitting beside someone in church or
shopping at the mercantile or perhaps borrowing a book from the library, that
I didn't have to wonder if this woman or that woman had seen your chest—and all
the other parts of you."

He was silent a long
moment.

“Like
that woman who works at the cafe or one of the girls who takes in laundry.
Perhaps Mrs. Krenshaw."

He
pulled her head away from his chest and looked her in the eyes, his raised
eyebrows creasing his forehead. "You're teasing me!"

She
chuckled at his astonishment and loved that she could make him laugh...and
groan...and lose control. Her insides turned to liquid again.

He
rolled her to her back and leaned over her to kiss her soundly. "If you
have any more questions, ask them now, 'cause I don't intend for this to be a
nightly subject. I barely remember anyway."

"I
think I know enough," she said, brushing her finger across his lip.

He
loved her with his eyes, surveyed her face, her hair, then reached to pull a
pin from the tangled mass.

"I
must look a fright." Suddenly self-conscious, she reached up to her
mangled coiffure and removed the remaining hairpins.

"Oh,
yes, a fright. I don't know how I'll stand lookin' at you every morning for the
rest of my life."

She placed her hands on his
forearm, found the soft hairs there and rubbed. She'd always admired his face,
but he was equally incredible all over. So different from her. And so perfect.
"Looking at you is such a joy. Can you possibly feel that way about me?"

"Looking
at you is like feeling the sun on your face on a mild afternoon. It's like
sittin' by a fire and enjoying the heat until your skin feels tight, but you
don't want to move away because it feels so good."

She contemplated him in
amazement. "Me? Really, you think those things about me? You speak like a
poet, do you know that? If you had never touched me, I would have been seduced
by your pretty words."

"Someday
I'll put that to the test." He ran a finger down her shoulder to the edge
of the sheet that covered her breasts and lazily skimmed it back and forth.
"Right now touching you is much more fun than talkin'."

"What
about the food?"

"Man cannot live by
ham and bread alone."

His
words were teasing, but the passion in his eyes was real. Annie brushed her fingers
along his smoothly shaven jaw, understanding that he'd shaved for her— for
this. She caressed his silky thick hair and drew her finger across his brow,
down his nose, across his lower lip. "Loving you this much almost
hurts," she told him, serious now. "Loving you is fierce and greedy
and—and confusing. Sometimes tender, sometimes so desperate I ache inside. I
hoped this ache would go away after we were married, but I feel it still."

Luke
kissed her tenderly. "Just so you feel me lovin' you back. Feel it?"

She closed her eyes,
concentrated on her senses and heard his breath, felt the thud of his heart
beneath her palm, smelled his salty skin and the musk of their lovemaking.
"I feel it," she whispered.