Part 7 (1/2)
She glared at him. ”Look who's talking.”
He smiled ruefully. He cut off the lights, too. She felt the mattress s.h.i.+ft as he lay back on it and pulled the sheet up over his hips.
”All right. If you want to talk, go ahead.”
”My father never wanted you to marry me, Justin, despite the show he put on for you,” she said shortly. ”He wanted me to marry Tom Wheelor's racing stables so that he could merge them with his and get out of debt.”
”That's a hard pill to swallow, considering what I know about your father,” he said, remembering that it was her father's money that had helped his family's feedlot. He wondered if she'd ever found that out, and almost said so when he heard her sigh.
She s.h.i.+fted. ”Nevertheless, it's true. He was all set to ruin you if I hadn't gone along with him when he cooked up that story about my marrying Tom.”
”You admitted that you'd slept with Tom,” he reminded her. His tone darkened. ”And I know how little you wanted to sleep with me.”
”It wasn't because I found you repulsive,” she said.
”Wasn't it?”
Before she could say another word, he'd rolled over. One lean arm went across her body, dragging her against him. In the darkness, he sought her mouth with his and kissed her with rough abandon. Her hands went up against his hair-roughened chest, pus.h.i.+ng at solid warm muscle, while his mouth demanded things that frightened her. His knee insinuated itself between both of hers, and she stiffened and pushed harder, fighting him.
He let her go without another word and got up. His hand flicked the light switch. When he turned toward her, his eyes were blazing like forest fires, his face livid with barely controlled rage.
”Get out!” he said in a biting fury.
She knew that she couldn't say anything now that would calm him. If she tried to argue or smooth it over, she might unleash something physical that would scar her even more than his ardor had six years before.
She got out of the bed, her eyes apologetic and tearful, and did as he'd told her. She didn't look back. She closed the door gently and, still crying, made her way down the long staircase.
Justin's study was quiet. She turned on the light, went to the liquor cabinet, and with hands that shook, found a brandy snifter. She poured brandy into it and swished it around. She wanted to jump off the roof, but perhaps this would do instead.
The house was so quiet. So peaceful. But her mind was in turmoil. Why couldn't he understand that violent lovemaking frightened her? Why wouldn't he listen?
She'd pushed him away, that was why. She'd fought him. But if she hadn't, and he'd lost control... Her eyes closed on a shudder. She couldn't even bear the thought.
Her legs shook as she made her way to the sofa and sat down, her body bowed, her forehead resting on the rim of the gla.s.s. Tears blurred it. She sipped and sipped, until finally the sting of the liquor began to soothe her nerves.
When she realized that she was no longer alone, she didn't even look up.
”I know you hate me,” she said numbly. ”You didn't have to come all the way down here to say it.”
Justin winced at the tears on her face, at the anguish in her soft voice. His pride was shattered all over again. But it hurt him to see her cry.
He poured himself another whiskey and sat down on the edge of the heavy coffee table in front of her. ”I've been up there calling you names,” he said after a minute. ”Until it suddenly got through to me what you'd said, about never letting another man kiss you intimately.”
”I'm a scarlet woman, though,” she said bitterly. ”I slept with Tom. I even told you so.”
”You've just told me that your father lied about it.” His black eyes narrowed. He took a sip of the whiskey and put the gla.s.s down. He knelt just in front of her, not touching her, his eyes on a level with hers. ”I remembered something else, too. Just after you wrecked the car, you kissed me. You weren't afraid of me, and you weren't repulsed, either, Shelby. But you were making all the moves, weren't you?”
Her eyes lifted to his. So he'd made the connection. She sighed worriedly. ”Yes,” she said finally. ”I wasn't afraid, you see.”
”But up until then,” he added, his shrewd eyes making lightning a.s.sessments, ”I'd been pretty rough with you when we made love.”
She flushed, avoiding his gaze. ”Yes.”
”And it wasn't revulsion at all. It was fear. Not of getting pregnant. But of intimacy itself.”
”Give that man a cigar,” she murmured with forced humor.
He sighed, watching her fondle the brandy snifter. He took it out of her hands and put it on the coffee table. ”Get up.”
Startled, she felt him lift her from the sofa. He put her to one side and stretched out on the cus.h.i.+ons, moving toward the back. ”Now sit down.”
She did, hesitantly, because she didn't understand this approach.
He took one of her hands and drew it to his chest. ”Think of me as a human sacrifice,” he murmured drily. ”A stepping stone in the educational process.”
Her lips parted on a sudden gasp as she realized what he was doing. Her eyes darted up to his, curious, shy. ”But you...you don't like that,” she said perceptively, because in the past he'd always made the moves, he'd never encouraged her to.
”I'm going to learn to like it,” he said frankly. ”If it takes this to get you close to me, I'm more than willing to give you the advantage, Shelby.”
Tears stung her eyes. She bit her lower lip to stop its trembling. ”Oh, Justin,” she whispered shakily.
”Can you do it this way?” he asked softly, his eyes black and alive with tenderness. ”If I let you, can you make love to me?”
The tears broke from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. ”I wanted to tell you,” she wept. ”But I was too embarra.s.sed.”
”It's all right.” He put his big hand over hers and traced the tiny blue veins in it. ”I should have realized it a long time ago. I won't hurt you. I'll never hurt you.”
She laughed through the tears. Amazing that he should puzzle it out for himself. She smiled and bent hesitantly to his warm mouth and touched it with her lips.
Justin felt as if his heart were about to burst. G.o.d only knew why he'd never understood before. Obviously Wheelor had hurt her, and she'd drawn away from any further intimacy. He hated knowing that the other man had been her first lover, but he couldn't stand by any longer and watch Shelby beat herself to death emotionally over it. They had to start someplace to build a life together, and this was the very best way.
He felt her soft, shy mouth with a sense of wonder. She still didn't know a lot about kissing, and he smiled under her searching lips. He'd been celibate for a long time, but in his younger days, his lack of looks hadn't kept him from getting some experience. He knew what to do with a woman, even if discussing such things in public made him uncomfortable.
He didn't touch her. As he'd promised, he lay there with his body keeping him on the rack and let her soft mouth toy with his.
”Come closer,” he breathed against her lips. ”You're as safe as you want to be.”
”It isn't hurting you?” she asked worriedly.
”When it gets that bad, I'll tell you,” he promised, lying through his teeth, because it was already that bad.
She smiled, moving so that her soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s rested fully on his chest, her legs chastely beside his and not over them. There was a fine tremor in his lips when she bent again, but he still hadn't tried to pull her down or to make the kiss more intimate.
Her hands moved into his thick hair, ruffling it, and her lips traced patterns on his face, loving its strength. He was so sweet to kiss. She laughed with pure delight at the new freedom to touch him as she'd wanted to for so many lonely years.
His eyes opened and he studied her curiously. ”What was that all about?”
”If you knew,” she said, ”how long I've wanted to do this...”
His jaw clenched. ”You might have told me.”