Page 81 of Texas Glory
“I know.”
Her gaze dipped down, then shot back up to his.
“Don’t be afraid,” he pleaded gently. “I’m not afraid.”
He eased onto the bed. She jumped when his thigh touched hers.
Cupping her face with his palm, he placed his mouth near her ear. “I can’t stand it when you’re afraid of me, Dee.”
“I’m just nervous.”
He trailed his mouth along her neck and dipped his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat. She tasted fresh, pure, and unused—unlike any woman he’d ever tasted.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said.
He lowered his face until his mouth touched the swell of her breast. She gasped. Without moving his mouth, he glanced up to find her watching him. He moved lower. His tongue circled her nipple.
“Dallas?”
“Shh. Every night I dreamed of tasting you.” He closed his mouth around the taut bud and suckled gently.
Closing her eyes, she moaned. He skimmed his mouth over the valley between her breasts and swept his tongue over her. He glided his hand along her stomach, a stomach as flat as the prairie. Months from now, it would swell, swell with the son he might give her tonight.
He nestled his hand between her thighs, and when she might have protested, he covered her mouth with his, his tongue delving deeply, devouring her sighs, her moans.
Not until she twisted her body toward his, did he give himself the freedom to move his body between her thighs. Then as gently as the wind blew across the plains, he eased his body into hers.
She stiffened and he held still, knowing as fact what he’d only before known as rumor. He had no choice but to hurt her.
“I’m sorry, Dee,” he rasped as he blanketed her mouth with his, plunged deeply, and swallowed her cry.
Cordelia wrapped her arms more tightly around him, the plea for forgiveness she heard in his voice bringing tears to her eyes. He stilled above her, his body taut. He continued to kiss her, only to kiss her, as though he couldn’t get enough of her.
His mouth blazed a scorching trail along her throat. “It’ll get better, Dee.”
She plowed her fingers through his hair, cradling his head, turning his gaze toward hers. “I want this,” she whispered. “I want to give you a son.”
He released a guttural sound low in his throat, and she felt his chest vibrate against her breasts. He returned his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply, his tongue plunging, sweeping, caressing.
He moved against her, slowly, almost hesitantly. The pain receded, and a warmth deep inside her began to unfurl.
He slid his hand beneath her and lifted her hips. “Follow me, Dee,” he pleaded in a ragged voice near her ear.
As though she had any other choice. He raised himself above her, his thrusts growing deeper, faster. She watched the shadows within the room play over his chiseled features.
And then as he had done from the beginning, he began to guide her toward the sunlight. To a place where no shadows hovered. She cried out his name as a myriad of sensations exploded within her.
Dallas felt Dee’s body tighten around him as she arched beneath him. Pressing deeply, he followed where she had gone.
Glory had never felt so sweet.
Dallas awoke. He had turned down the flame in the lamp before he’d fallen asleep beside Dee. Now only moonlight spilled in through the parted drapes. He rolled to his side and reached for her.
All he found was the fading warmth of her body. Squinting through the shadows, he saw her standing beside the window, peering into the night, her arms wrapped around herself.
He eased out of bed and joined her. “Dee, are you all right?”
She glanced at him and smiled timidly. “I just wanted to hold it.” “Hold what?”
