Free Johnston - I Promise by Joan Johnston Page A

seldom left her alone with her mother.
    She took a deep breath and said, “I want to be a lawyer so I can help kids in trouble.”
    Marsh’s brow furrowed. “Like juvenile delinquents?”
    “Not exactly. Kids who have problems.”
    “What did you have in mind?” Marsh asked.
    “Kids who . . .” She shrugged, unwilling even to hint at her own problems. “I don’t know. Just helping in whatever way I can.”
    “Sounds dumb to me,” he said.
    She socked his shoulder with her fist. “I knew you would laugh!”
    “Hey!” he said, catching her wrist. “Not one chuckle escaped my lips.”
    Their eyes met and held. His thumb caressed her knuckles. Her pulse leaped.
    “Delia . . .” His voice was raw and needy.
    She leaned toward him and he leaned toward her and their mouths met, softness on softness. Her body quivered. She swallowed, and their lips parted. But their faces remained so close she would have had to look cross-eyed to see him.
    Delia wanted more but knew she should quit now before things went too far. Her hand had somehow found its way to Marsh’s forearm. It was rock hard with tension. But she didn’t move away. She didn’t move at all.
    Her eyes slipped closed as Marsh lowered his mouth to hers once more. His kiss was hungry this time, his lips and teeth and tongue devouring her mouth, though no other part of him touched her. Her hand on his arm remained the only other contact between them.
    Feelings rose inside her, emotions so powerful and compelling they frightened her. She jerked her mouth free and sat staring at Marsh, panting, wide-eyed. But she didn’t stand up. She didn’t run away. Neither did he.
    “Delia.”
    The sound of his voice rasped over her, making her shiver. She had just met him. She didn’t know him. Yet she wanted to belong to him. It was crazy. She was crazy.
    “Marsh.” Just his name. Said with yearning. She wasn’t sure who moved first, but a moment later he held her clasped tight and her arms were around his waist and their mouths had merged.
    Her breasts were crushed against the hard wall of his chest, and her hips slid into the cradle of his widespread legs. His hands curved around her buttocks and pulled her tight against him so she could feel his arousal.
    Alarm bells went off in her head.
    She wrenched her mouth from his and struggled to free herself. “Let me go, Marsh,” she cried. “Let me go!”
    He let her go and took a step back, but there was nothing understanding about the look on his face. He was madder than a rained-on rooster.
    “What the hell is going on, Delia?” he demanded. “Don’t try to say you didn’t want to be kissed, because I was hearing yes all the way!”
    “I know, but . . .”
    “But nothing!”
    Tears welled in her eyes, but his face didn’t soften with sympathy. His jaw stayed locked, and his fists remained clenched.
    “What kind of game are you playing? Did you make a bet with somebody? Is that it? You’ll get me all hot and bothered and see how far you can make me go?”
    “No!” she retorted. “It’s nothing at all like that!”
    “Then what the hell is going on?”
    Delia nearly blurted the truth. She caught herself in time. Marsh wouldn’t want anything to do with her if he knew what went on in her house. “I’m not playing games, Marsh,” she said in a subdued voice. “I . . . I simply never realized how fast . . . I never wanted . . . like I want you.”
    “What’s stopping you?”
    “I . . . I just can’t.”
    “Saving yourself for your husband?” he sneered.
    She flushed to the roots of her hair.
    He shoved a hand through his hair and paced away from her before turning back to demand, “Why did you go out with me in the first place? Why did you come here today?”
    “I like you. I had a wonderful time with you last night. I thought we could be friends.”
    His lips curled up on one side, and he shook his head. “I’m not someone most people would choose for a friend.”
    “I’m