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personality.
Harden a virgin? She burst out laughing. "Not nice," she accused. "Teasing me like that."
"I'm not teasing, as it happens, I'm serious," he replied.
"Harden is a deacon in the church and he sings in the choir. In fact, there was a time when he seriously
considered being a minister."
"How old is he?"
"Thirty-one."
"A year older than you?" she asked.
He nodded. "Mother and Dad had a rather physical reunion when she came home. They were happy
together, but I don't think she ever really got over the other man.
And despite the fact that Harden hates her, he's her favorite even now."
"Forgiveness is a virtue," she said. "I guess not everybody is capable of it, but I'm sorry for your
mother."
"You won't be, when you meet her. She's spunky. Like you."
She leaned her head back and smiled at him, her eyes faintly possessive. Memories of the night before
streamed back to fire her blood and lingered in her pale brown eyes.
He stopped at an intersection and looked back at her, his own eyes kindling with what he read in that
level stare.
"Remembering?" he asked huskily. "Yes," she whispered.
His breath came more quickly, his brown sports shirt rising and falling roughly over his broad chest.
His gaze went down to her breasts under the pale green shirtwaist dress she was wearing and lingered
there. "You were like warm silk under my mouth," he bit off.
She gasped.
His eyes lifted back to hers and time stopped. "This isn't the place," he said tightly. "No."
He glanced around and behind them. Not a single car in sight. "On the other hand, what the hell," he
murmured and threw the car out of gear. "Come here."
He snapped open her seat belt and pulled her to him, his hard mouth crushing down over hers in a
fever of ardent need. She circled his head with her arms and held on for dear life, giving him back the
kiss hungrily. Her body throbbed with need of him, her mouth shaking as his tongue penetrated it
insistently.
He dragged his head up at the distant sound of a big truck coming closer and spotted it in the rearview
mirror.
"Obviously he's not a married man," he muttered, putting a radiant, breathless Pepi back in her seat
and buckling her in. "Damn it." He put the car in gear again, his hands slightly unsteady on the wheel,
looked both ways and pulled out onto the highway.
He glanced at her hungrily. "Tonight, I'm going to have you. One way or the other, the waiting's
over."
Her lips parted on a rough breath. "Are the walls very thin?" she asked hesitantly.
"We'll be in a room away from the others," he said curtly.
"You can scream if you want to, nobody will hear you."
"I. . . I can't seem to be quiet when you start touching me," she said gently. "I lose control."
"So do I," he replied tersely.
She flushed. He made it sound very intimate and she wanted him. Her body blazed with the need, even
now.
He glanced at her. "Baby, if you don't stop looking at me like that, I'll park the damned car and make
love to you on the roadside," he threatened huskily.
"Anywhere," she said shakily. "Oh, Connal, I want you so much, it's like a fever."
His jaw tautened. He actually shivered. His eyes went to a small crossroads where a motel was
situated. Without thinking, he pulled off and cut the engine. "Do you want me enough?" he asked,
staring at her.
The fever was so high that even her shyness didn't faze it. "Yes," she whispered huskily, flushing.
He got out, went inside the office and came out with a key. He didn't say another word until they were
in the room, with the door locked.
"Do you want me to use anything?" he asked before he touched her.
She knew what he was asking. She loved him. If a child came of this, it would be all right. He wanted
one desperately, she knew.
"No," she said, going close to him. "Don't use anything."
He drew her slowly to him, already so aroused that his tall, fit body was shaking. "I don't know how
long I can hold out," he breathed at her lips. "But I'll try to arouse you enough to make it bearable.
And later, afterward, I'll make it up to you if I lose control."
She didn't understand what he was saying. His hands were on the buttons of her dress and she stood
very still, letting him peel the clothing from her body until she was totally nude.
Her skin felt blazing hot. She was shy, and the way he was looking at her burned her, but it made her
proud, too, because his pleasure in her body was evident in the glitter of his black eyes and the
tenderness of his smile.
He jerked back the covers on the big double bed and picked her up, putting her down gently against
the pillows. Then he set about removing his own clothing.
Pepi had seen pictures of naked men, but nothing had prepared her for the sight of Connal without
clothing. He was magnificent, all lean hard muscle and black, curling hair. Aroused, his body was
faintly intimidating and she held her breath when he came toward her.
"Don't panic," he said gently as he slid onto the bed beside her. "By the time we start, you'll be ready
for me.
Your body is like a pink rosebud, all silky and tightly furled. I'm going to open the petals, one by one,
and make you bloom for me." He bent his mouth and took hers, very softly. One lean hand slid down
her rib cage to her hips and over her thighs and back up to tease around her breast.
The embarrassment and shyness faded as he began to touch her, his fingers delicate and deft and sure
on her untaught body. He lifted his head and looked at her, watched her reactions as he feathered
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