this was making it worse. She didn’t know how she was going to live in a world without him.
“What’s this?” he asked softly. His big hands, cool from holding the tea glass, caught her arms and turned her, forcing her to look at him.
Her full lips wobbled no matter how she tried to control their trembling, and her big emerald eyes were misty with tears. Silvery blonde hair curled around her oval face, and her cheeks were flushed with emotion. The picture she made held his attention for a long minute. His eyes wandered down to the top buttons of the blue shirtwaist dress, and he studied her body as if he’d only just realized she had one.
His hands smoothed up and down her arms, slowly, making wild tremors of pleasure shoot through her.
“Homesick already?” he asked quietly.
She drew in a sharp breath and tried to smile at him, but he blurred in her vision.
He was a blur of brown hair with blond streaks through it, sky blue eyes staring curiously at her from that weathered face that she loved so dearly. It was a long way to look up, even though she was wearing high heels. He towered over her like a sunburned giant.
“You’re so big,” she whispered.
“To a runt like you, I probably seem that way,” he agreed pleasantly, but his eyes weren’t laughing. They were dark and quiet and oddly watchful.
She fidgeted under the arousing touch of his hands. “I should finish packing,” she mumbled.
His thumbs pressed hard into her arms. He moved his callused hands up to enclose her face, and the look in his eyes made her knees weak.
“Don’t look so tragic, darling,” he murmured, bending his head. “I’ll wait for you.”
That hurt most of all. He was teasing her, playing with her, because he knew how she felt and was indulging her. Her eyes closed. “John...” she tried to protest.
He brushed his lips across her forehead, and she wanted to wail. He was trying not to hurt her....
“Do you want my mouth, little sheila?” he whispered suddenly, unexpectedly, and her heart shot up like a balloon.
Her eyes opened, full of dreams and hurt pride and aching hunger, and his nostrils flared.
“Yes, you do, don’t you?” he asked under his breath, and his face was solemn, intent, making her feel years older. He bent his head, letting her feel his warm breath on her parted lips.
Her body tautened, demanding to feel his against it; her mouth lifted. All her dreams were coming true at once, and the look in his eyes made her heart run wild. Her body pressed against his tentatively, shyly. She loved his warm strength, the powerful muscles tensing where her breasts were flattened slightly against him. He smelled of the outdoors, and cologne and tobacco, and her senses reeled.
“I’ve only been kissed once,” she whispered nervously, her eyes wide. “Playing...playing spin the bottle. And his mouth was wet and I didn’t like it.”
His fingers traced soft patterns on her flushed cheek, and they seemed to be the only two people in the world. “Stop dithering, little one,” he said quietly. “I don’t mind kissing you good-bye, if you want it.”
“If,” she whispered shakily. Tears were stinging her eyes. “Don’t you know that I’d walk across blazing coals to get to you...?”
His eyes flashed. “You don’t even know what it’s all about,” he said sharply. “One kiss, from a clumsy boy...”
“But you aren’t a boy,” she reminded him, her voice trembling.
“No,” he said, “I’m not.” He bent slowly, holding her eyes. “Such a taut little body,” he breathed, his hard lips parting on a faint smile as they brushed deliciously over hers. “Why don’t you let it relax against mine?”
She tried, but she was trembling with excitement and new discoveries. “I can’t,” she moaned against the soft persistent brushing of his mouth.
His fingers splayed over her throat, tilting her head against his shoulder. “I’m hungry, too,” he whispered roughly. There was a glitter in his eyes as they searched hers. “Don’t let me frighten you. Trust me.”
“I want to kiss you so much,” she managed in a broken tone, so desperate for him that she was beyond pride.
“Yes,” he said, parting his lips. “Yes, I can feel how much. Priss, you go to my head...” His voice trailed off into a deep slow moan as he kissed her for the first time, tenderly, coaxingly, letting her feel the very texture of his lips before he showed her that he needed more than this.
His breath seemed shaky as his mouth bit at hers. She kept her eyes tightly closed, hoping that if it was a dream, she could die before she woke. The silence around them was deafening, and she felt afire with awakening emotions.
Her hands suddenly clawed into the thick muscles of his upper arms, and she stiffened even more as his mouth began to invade hers. She hoped he wasn’t going to waste her last few minutes with him by being gentle.
His head lifted then and his mouth waited, poised over hers. His breath sighed out against her moist lips. “I can make you hungrier than this,” he said huskily. “I can burn you up.”
His eyes frightened her a little, but she was too consumed by longing to care. She pressed closer against his tight hard body and stood on tiptoe.
“Oh, John, kiss me hard!” she pleaded, clinging. “Kiss me hard and slow and pretend you want me!”
“Pretend!” he bit off. His mouth swooped down. He could feel the hunger building in her young body, feel the first faint stirring of response in the tender lips accepting his. Ravenously he opened his mouth and bit at hers, not wanting to frighten her, but needing more than the trembling uncertainty of her closed mouth. After a minute, she seemed to like the tender probing of his tongue. Involuntarily her lips relaxed and began to part shyly.
“Yes,” he prodded roughly. “Yes, that’s what I want. Open your mouth slowly; let me taste it with my tongue...”
It was wildly erotic. Priss had seen men and women kiss that way in movies, with their mouths open, their bodies crushed together, but she’d never known how wildly arousing it was. She moaned against John’s demanding mouth, because the sensations he was making her feel were new and overwhelming.
“Frightened?” he whispered.
Her eyes drifted open, wide and drowsy and dazed. “No,” she moaned. “Oh, no, not of you; not ever of you,” she whispered shakily. “No matter what you do to me!”
“You don’t know what I could do to you,” he warned gruffly. He studied her face for a long moment. His hands smoothed down her back, bringing her closer to his shuddering chest. One of them edged between their bodies and traced a line between her waist and the soft underside of one breast. She trembled again, her fingers digging into him.
“Steady on,” he breathed gently, watching her face as his fingers began to trace her breast, watching her eyes widen with pleasure.
She made a wild
