Free If Winter Comes by Diana Palmer Page A

yes was
incredible. But she was cautious now, wary of him. He could hurt her now,
because he could get close, and she wasn’t sure she was willing to take the
risk a second time.
     
    He read that hesitation
and nodded. “I know what you’re afraid of. But trust me this once. Just listen
to me.”
     
    She shifted and let a
long breath seep out between her lips. “All right.”
     
    “I’ll pick you up at
six.”
     
    She nodded her assent
and looked up, hypnotized by the strange expression in his eyes.
     
    “Don’t look at me like
that,” he whispered deeply. “There are too many cameras in here.”
     
    She knew what he meant
without any explanation, and her face colored again.
     
    “Reading my mind?” he
asked with a wicked smile as his eyes dropped to the soft, high curve of her
breasts. “Read it now.”
     
    She pulled her coat
tight around her and tried to breathe normally. “I…I’ll see you later, then,”
she managed weakly.
     
    He chuckled softly as
he moved to let her pass by him. His eyes didn’t leave her until she was out of
sight.
     
     
     
    She was like a teenaged
girl on her first date, waiting for him that night with her hair hanging loose
over her shoulders, the single green velour evening gown she owned clinging to
her slender curves like a second skin, bringing out the soft tan of her bare
arms and shoulders.
     
    She couldn’t help
feeling nervous. What was he going to expect from her now? The fact that he’d
missed her hadn’t really changed anything. And what about her? What was she
willing to give? What did she truly feel?
     
    In the midst of her
mental interrogation, the doorbell screamed into the silence, and she jumped
just before she ran to answer it.
     
    He walked in by her
even as she opened the door, his scowl fierce, his eyes dangerous.
     
    “Hard day?” she asked
softly.
     
    “They’re all hard,” he
said, turning to look down at her. The anger drained out of his hard face as he
studied her soft curves with an expression that grew warmer, possessive, as the
seconds throbbed past.
     
    His massive chest rose
and fell heavily under his dark evening clothes, his ruffled silk shirt. “Oh,
honey,” he said finally, deeply, “that is one hell of a dress.”
     
    “Do you really like
it?” she murmured inanely, speaking for the sake of words, while her eyes told
him something very different.
     
    “I hope you haven’t
gone to any great pains with your makeup, little girl,” he said finally, moving
closer, “because I’m about to smear the hell out of it.”
     
    Her lips parted under a
rush of breath while he pulled her against his big body, molding her slowly
against him.
     
    “It’s been too long
already,” he said in a harsh whisper, bending his dark head until she felt the
warm, uneven pulse of his breath against her trembling lips. “I can’t get that
evening out of my mind, Carla….”
     
    His mouth hurt. It was
as if the hunger he felt made violence necessary, and his big arms bruised in
their ardor while he took what he needed from her soft ardent mouth.
     
    “Sleep with me,” he
whispered against her mouth. “I need you.”
     
    “Bryan…” she breathed,
drawing back as far as the crush of his arms would allow.
     
    “God, don’t make me
wait any longer,” he growled unsteadily. “I’m so hungry for you I can hardly
stay alive for wanting you. Carla, little Carla, why are you holding back? You
won’t regret it.”
     
    She swallowed and her
eyes closed. “Bryan, there’s never been a man,” she said in a haunted voice.
     
    She felt his arms
stiffen around her, felt his breath catch.
     
    “What did you say?” he
asked.
     
    She drew a steadying
breath. “I said, I’ve never slept with a man.”
     
    “But, at the farm…My
God, woman, you were on fire…”
     
    Her eyelids pressed
hard together as a wave of embarrassment swept over her, and her pale cheeks colored.
“I know. But it’s still true.”
     
    There was