Shades of Twilight

He put his hand on her belly, spanning the narrow distance between her hipbones. For a moment he studied the contrast between his big, rough, sun-browned hand and the silky smoothness of her stomach. He had made it a principle a his life to protect a woman from pregnancy, and AIDS had made the practice even more sensible. All his fine principles had flown out the window when he’d had Roanna beneath him; not once had he worn a rubber when he was making love to her, not in Nogales and not last night. He flattened his palm on her belly.

"Have you had a period since that night in Nogales?"

His tone was soft, even, but the words hung between them as if he had shouted. She went very still in that way of hers, motionless except for her breathing. Finally she replied with caution, "No, but I’ve never been regular. A lot of times I’ll completely skip a month."

He’d wanted certainty but realized he wasn’t going to find it yet. He rubbed his hand over her stomach, then up to lightly cup a breast. He loved her breasts, so firm and high and elegantly shaped. He watched in sensual delight as the nipple immediately began to pucker, standing up as if begging for attention. Were her nipples slightly darker than they had been that first night? God, he loved her reaction, the immediate response to him.

"Have your breasts always been this sensitive?"

"Yes," she whispered, her breath catching as pleasure flooded through her. At least they were whenever he looked at them, or touched them. She could no more stop her reaction to him than she could halt the tides.

He wasn’t immune himself. Though it hadn’t been long since they’d made love, his sex stirred as he watched color flush her breasts and cheeks.

"How did you manage to stay virgin for twenty-seven years?" he marveled, thrusting himself against the cleft of her bare thighs.

"You weren’t here," she said simply, and the open honesty of her love humbled him. He nuzzled her hair, feeling himself grow more urgent.

"Can you take me again?" To make his meaning plain, he pushed his erection even harder against her.

For answer she lifted her thigh, sliding it along his hip, up to his waist. Webb reached down and guided himself to the soft, swollen opening and pushed inside.

He didn’t feel any urgent need for orgasm, just the need for her. They lay together, gently rocking to keep the level of305

sensation. The morning was getting older, and the chances were increasing that they would be caught naked in bed together. Of course, everyone was more likely to sleep late today after the party last night, so he judged it fairly safe to indulge themselves for a while longer. He didn’t want to embarrass her, but neither did he want to let her go.

He loved being inside her, loved the tight clasp of her body. They began to slip apart, and he put his hand on her bottom to anchor her to him. She might not think so, but he’d bet the ranch that she was pregnant, and the thought of her carrying his baby at once thrilled him to his bones and scared him half to death.

Maybe it wasn’t the most romantic conversation to be having while they were making love, but he tilted her chin up and looked square into her eyes, so she would know he meant it.

"You have to eat more. I want you to put on another fifteen pounds, minimum."

A shadow of insecurity darkened her eyes, and he cursed aloud even as he thrust deeper into her.

"Don’t took like that, damn it. After last night, there’s no way you can doubt how much you turn me on. Hell, what about right now? I wanted you when you were seventeen, and I sure as hell want you now. But I also want you strong and healthy enough to carry my baby."

It took her a moment to catch her breath after that strong thrust. She moved against him, an enticing wiggle to make herself more comfortable.

"I don’t think I’m-" she began, then stopped, and her whiskey eyes widened.

"You wanted me then?" she whispered.

"You were sitting on my lap," he said wryly.

"What did you think, that I was carrying a lead pipe around in my pocket?" He thrust again, letting her feel every inch of him.

"And after the way I kissed you-" "I kissed you," she corrected. Her face was growing flushed, and she clung tighter to him.

"You started it, but I didn’t push you away, did I? As I remember, it took about five seconds before I had my tongue halfway down your throat."

She made a little hum of pleasure, perhaps at the memory, more likely at what he was doing to her now. A hard surge of sensation brought him to the realization that the need for orgasm was abruptly urgent, for both of them. He stroked her bottom, trailing his fingers down the cleft until he reached the point of their union. Gently he rubbed her, feeling how stretched and tight her soft flesh was around him. She whimpered, arched, and dissolved. It took only two thrusts for him to join her, and they strained together in completion.

He was still sweating a long time later, when he maneuvered out of her arms and out of bed.

"We have to stop before someone comes looking for us," he muttered. Swiftly he dressed, stepping into wrinkled black pants and picking up his equally wrinkled shirt. He leaned down to kiss her.

"I’ll be back tonight." He kissed her again, then straightened, winked at her, and sauntered out onto the veranda as casually as if it were perfectly natural for him to be leaving her room, half naked, at eight o’clock in the morning. She didn’t know if anyone saw him or not because she jumped up, grabbed her nightgown, and darted into the bathroom.

She was still quivering with excitement and pleasure as she showered. Her skin was so sensitive from his lovemaking that even the act of bathing felt sexual. She couldn’t believe the raw sexuality of the night, but her body had no such difficulty.