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shivered at the intimacy of it, because she didn't have a stitch on.
"You're my wife," he whispered when he saw her embarrassment. "It's all right if I see you
without your clothes." She curled closer. "Yes, I guess it is. It's just...new." "My God, yes, I know."
There was an unmistakable note in his voice. She looked up, giving him a sudden and total view
of her pretty breasts. He had to drag his eyes back up to hers.
"My virgin bride," he whispered huskily. His fingers touched her breasts hesitantly, with
something like reverence. "Oh, Shelby. Shelby!"
"I...Dr. Sims made me have some minor surgery, but he muttered about it when I wouldn't let
him do a proper job," she said, hiding her eyes from him. "I guess it wasn't quite enough..." Her face
went red.
"Why wouldn't you let him do it properly?"
"So that I could prove that I hadn't slept with Tom," she said simply.
"You little fool!" He tilted her eyes up to his. "If I hadn't stopped upstairs, or if I'd ever lost my
head with you... God, it doesn't even bear thinking about!"
She bit her lip, staring at his broad chest with its thick pelt of hair. "Justin...it would have
stopped hurting," she began shyly.
"Like hell it would." He leaned back with a rough sigh. "I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings,
honey, but you're going to have to go back and have the rest of that surgery."
"But..."
He tilted her eyes up to his. "A little pain is one thing, but you've got one hell of a lot of proof
there," he said curtly. He shifted restlessly, noting her embarrassment and feeling just a little of his own
at trying to explain things to her. He drew her head against his chest and bent to brush his mouth softly
over hers. "Put your clothes back on while I top off your brandy snifter. The feel of you is making me
hurt."
He got up and put her down on the sofa with only a cursory glance. While she fumbled her way
back into her pajamas, he poured brandy into her glass and whiskey into his, and then went searching
for a cigarette.
She knew her face was flaming. She'd never imagined that intimacy was so...intimate. But along
with the shyness was a kind of excitement that went along with her new discoveries of Justin. He didn't
lose control and go wild and hurt her. He was slow and patient and considerate. That made her blush
even more.
"Who told you that men go nuts and hurt women when they make love?" he asked
conversationally. "Because you seemed to think that's what was going to happen upstairs."
She took the brandy snifter and watched him go back to the armchair, where he sat and pulled
up an ashtray. "You did," she said hesitantly. "The night we got engaged, and you lost control."
His eyebrows shot up. "Did I lose it that badly?"
"I thought so." She studied the snifter. "I knew I had this problem, you see, and I'd already been
told about the surgery I'd have to have before my first time." She shrugged. "I've been terrified of it
ever since my fifteenth birthday, when the doctor examined me for a female dysfunction. Some girls
have a little discomfort, but he told me it would be unbearable if I didn't have the surgery. Then when
you came on so strong, and I didn't think I could stop you..."
"You didn't tell me any of this," he said quietly.
"How could I?" She sighed miserably. "Oh, Justin, I'm twenty-seven and as green as a
preadolescent! I can't even talk about it now without blushing!"
"I thought you were repulsed by me," he said, his voice deep with remembered pain."I never
dreamed... And then you told me what you did about Wheelor, and my ego shattered." His broad
shoulders rose and fell. "I've been a lot rougher with you than I ever would have been if I'd known the
truth. It hurt so damned bad to think that you'd been with someone else, and when you flinched away, it
made me sick."
"At least now you know why I flinched away," she said with a sigh.
He took a draw from the cigarette. "I want you damned bad," he said without preamble.
She lowered her eyes to the carpet. "I want you, too."
"Then let's do something about it. Go see Dr. Sims. Have the surgery. Let's have a real
marriage. The kind where two people sleep together, share together, make babies together."
Her face flamed, but she looked up. "You really do want children, don't you?"
"I want them with you," he said simply. "I never wanted them with any other woman."
"Then I won't need to...to take anything."
He smiled slowly. "No."
She got up, nervous and shy all over again. "I guess it wouldn't be a good idea for us to sleep
together?" she asked, without realizing how wistful she sounded.
He got up, drawing her eyes as he towered over her.' 'Maybe it wouldn't, but we're going to.
Even if we can't make love, I can hold you."
Her breath sighed out. "Justin, I'm sorry for so many things."
"So am I, but we can't go back." He bent and brushed a gentle kiss across her mouth. "We'll take
it one day at a time. I won't rush you again."
She smiled at him. "Thank you."
He smiled back, but he didn't say anything. She watched him put everything away before he
came back to her, turning out the light. He still had his cigarette in hand as they went upstairs together.
"Are you all right?" he asked her when they were in bed, and she was curled up beside him. "I
didn't hurt you badly?"
"No," she whispered in the concealing darkness.
"I didn't frighten you, either?" he persisted, as if it matered. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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