Page 96 of Texas Honor

His eyes opened, searching hers. “That sounds serious.”

“Does it?” She returned his scrutiny. “You don’t have to look so worried,” she told him, and smiled. “I’m not going to fall madly in love with you and start clinging like ivy.”

“That’s a relief,” he said, saying the words without really meaning them. He grinned. “I’d hate to have a lovesick woman hanging on me all the time.”

Her eyes dropped to his chest so that he couldn’t see how much his careless remark had hurt. But why should it matter? She didn’t care about him. “Well, there’s no danger of that,” she told him firmly.

He wondered why he felt irritated by her remark. Did he want her to love him? He drew back, a little disturbed.

She looked sad. Her face had lost its lovely color, and she seemed oddly taut.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting her chin up until her eyes met his. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I was just wondering if we should marry...”

“I like you,” he said at once. “Don’t you like me?”

“Yes!” she said with smiling enthusiasm. “Very much!”

He chuckled. “And together, physically, we create something beautiful and lasting. So why shouldn’t friends marry?”

She couldn’t think of a single reason why not. There was always the hope that love would come, that he’d learn to care about her; of course there was.

She sighed, watching him, thinking how devastating he was, how masculine and appealing. And he was going to be all hers. No other woman would know him again as she did. He’d be her man. Completely. She felt a wild hunger for possession. She wanted him to wear a ring; she wanted everyone to know that he belonged to her. Her own bold thoughts startled her.

Her green eyes searched his hard face and she thought, I love him. I always have.

She felt the shock to her toes. Yes, she did love him. Otherwise she couldn’t have given herself as she had the night before. Especially not when she carried the scars from her first marriage so close to the surface. Why hadn’t she realized that before? A purely physical coming together wouldn’t—couldn’t—have been so profound.

“You’re worried,” Gabe repeated, frowning.

“No!” She sat up, pushing back her hair, forcing a smile. “Truly I’m not. I just don’t know if I remember how to fish!”

“I’ll teach you. That, and more,” he promised, and bent to touch her mouth carelessly with his.

Maggie gasped at the soft contact. It was suddenly so exquisite to know how she felt and have him touch her. She moaned a little and opened her mouth for him.

He caught his breath at her unexpected submission. His heart began to beat wildly. He lifted his head and looked at her, feeling all man and a yard wide—and frankly hungry.

His lean fingers took hold of the strap of her gown and slowly tugged it down, baring one taut, pretty breast to his glittering eyes.

Her lips parted. Her head fell back. She watched him, glorying in the way he was looking at her, in his obvious hunger for her.

“Touch me there,” she whispered huskily.

His heart leapt into his throat. She was going to be a handful. He hadn’t expected this. He didn’t know what he’d expected anymore. His fingers trailed down her shoulder, her arm. To her ribs, up, but just enough to tantalize. He watched the nipple grow harder and harder at his teasing, heard her breath turning shallow and quick.

“Is it my hands you want, or my mouth?” he whispered, brushing his lips softly against hers.

Her nails gripped his shoulders helplessly. “Anything,” she whispered back, her voice shaking. “Anything!”

“Only for a second, then,” he breathed, bending slowly. “We can’t start something now.”

But he wanted to. He cupped her breast in his palm and savored its soft weight as he bent to tease it gently with his lips and tongue and teeth. Maggie was whimpering. The sound excited him almost beyond bearing, but he had to keep his head, he had to be gentle, he had to... God!

He threw her back into the pillows and followed her down, his face hard with passion, his hands pinning her.

“Do it,” she challenged. Her eyes were wide and hot, and behind them was the first spark of a blazing need for possession. “Do it. I dare you.”

---