Page 82 of Texas Glory
“The baby you gave me tonight.”
He trailed his fingers along the curve of her cheek. “I might not have given you a baby.”
She furrowed her brow. “But we—”
“It doesn’t always happen the first time.”
“Then what do we do?”
“Well, we have two choices. We can wait and see if you have your woman’s time or”—he smiled warmly—“we can assume you’re not carrying my son and we can keep trying. The choice is yours.”
She averted her gaze, and his heart sank. “You shouldn’t feel any pain the next time. It hurt tonight because you were a virgin.”
She nodded quickly. “I think we should wait and see.”
He’d given her the choice and she’d taken it. He didn’t know which hurt worse, his pride or his heart.
“Fine, then.”
He walked to the bed and snatched his trousers off the floor. “You just let me know.”
He strode from the room, closed the door, and headed for his cold empty bed. He wished he’d bedded her as Boyd had suggested.
It’d be a hell of a lot easier to stay away from her if he didn’t know how perfectly her body aligned with his, how snugly she fit around him, how wonderful she felt.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Cordelia wondered how in the world a wife looked at her husband the morning following the night that they had made love.
How did she meet his gaze without remembering the hint of wine that had lingered on his lips, the bronzed shade of his skin, the muscles that had tensed as he’d risen above her, the sweat that had beaded his throat and chest as he’d rocked against her, the groans, moans …
She splashed more cold water on her face, trying to drown the images of Dallas’s clenched jaw and his smoldering gaze.
She couldn’t face him. She would simply stay in her room until she knew if she was carrying his son. She would … miss out on so much of life.
Last night had been an unexpected gift. It had been unlike anything she had witnessed between her parents. It had not resembled anything Boyd had hinted at.
The knock resounded against her door. She hoped it was Austin, but even as she strolled across the room, she recognized the steady staccato rap as belonging to her husband.
She bundled more snugly within her wrapper and opened the door. His gaze darted around the door frame before finally settling on her, and she wondered if he found it as difficult as she did to speak of mundane, inconsequential things after the intimacy they had shared.
“You didn’t come down to eat breakfast,” he said gruffly. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she experienced a slight tenderness when she walked. “I’m fine. Just fine.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you hurting?”
The heat flamed over her cheeks as she lowered her lashes. “A little.”
“I’m sorry for that. I’ll … I’ll do what I can to make it better next time.”
She dared to lift her gaze. “If there is a next time. Maybe we were lucky last night.”
If she didn’t know him as well as she did, she would have thought she’d hurt his feelings from the expression that had flitted across his face.
“Yeah, maybe so,” he said. He shifted his stance. “Are you going into town to get your damn prairie dog or do you want me to fetch her?”
