Reasons Of the Heart

He broke the kiss and they stared into each other's eyes. There was a gleam of male recognition in his that stopped her breath. Then his hands were cupping her face and his mouth fastened over hers again, gentle, teasing, yet deep and satisfying too. When she trembled, his mouth tensed and hardened, gathering her in even further, stunning her with the tremors she felt in his own body, as if it was part of hers.

'You taste good, Frankie,' he murmured in thick amazement, his trembling fingers finding and stroking her breasts in a way that made her kiss him back with untutored enthusiasm. He groaned.

'Touch me, Frankie, the way I'm touching you.' He pulled her hand to his chest, thrusting it inside his shirt. Soon both hands were roving across his skin, admiring the compact strength so different from her softness, the hot silkiness that almost burnt her fingertips. The only sound in the car was their gasping breath and the soft murmurs and groans as Fran innocently poured more fuel on the fire. Her exploring hands moved down the flat stomach to where the waistband of his trousers formed a barrier, and he stiffened with a jerk that made her freeze, afraid she was hurting him in some way. His fingers were doing things to her taut young breasts that made her feel that she was going to explode. It was so

sweet, so good, that when she felt him unzip her dress and pull it off her shoulders she couldn't believe that what they were doing was wrong.

'I won't hurt you,' Ross said huskily as he sensed her momentary doubt. 'I promise... I just want to see you...'

'If...if I can look at you, too,' she whispered, half-frightened, half-excited by the shaking plea in his voice. She trembled on the verge of a new and terrible knowledge.

He tore off his shirt and she saw the moonlight ripple over bone and muscle, and caught her breath at his sheer male beauty.

'You're beautiful,' she said helplessly and he laughed uncertainly.

'You're not supposed to say that kind of thing to guys.'

'But you are.' She hardly noticed his hands returning to her bodice, easing it down further until he could reach around to the clasp of her demure cotton bra.

'Oh, no------- '

'Only to look, Frankie...' His mouth opened over hers and this time it had less gentleness and more passion. It was an adult kiss and it drew an adult response from her body. She felt her breasts tighten painfully against the crisp cotton, the straps bite into her soft flesh, and moaned.

'I'm not beautiful... I'm fat...' Afraid that he would agree.

'No, you're not...you're soft and curving, the way a girl should be...' He drew a sharp breath as he re­leased her aching breasts into the cool night air and saw the tight, dark discs that crested the plump white roundness.

'I... don't think we should do this...' Fran quivered at his look, torn by the racking desire to push herself against him and the innate maidenly modesty that cried

at her to cover her nakedness. But this was Ross looking at her with such an expression of longing. Ross, whom she loved with every beat of her tender young heart...

'Oh, Frankie...' His eyes rose to her face and they were black and hot and sweet. 'Can I touch you?'

His asking made it all right. He wouldn't hurt her, not Ross. She felt the pound of his heart against the dampness of his chest and nodded dumbly.

His hands traced over her fullness very lightly, then cupped her, rounding her towards him. His palms shifted to support her, scraping across her rigid nipples, causing her to arch her spine involuntarily. Her eyes fluttered closed, her head sinking against the seat as he fondled her for long, agonising minutes. Francesca felt a wild and restless growth inside her that she didn't know how to satisfy. Her hands slipped on his slick skin and fell into his lap. He gave a loud groan that startled her into pushing against the rough cloth. He groaned again and fell across her, pushing her into a lying position. Sud­denly his mouth had replaced his hands on her breasts, and he was kissing and licking at her with a roughness that set off nerve-blistering explosions throughout her body. Her hands were trapped beneath his writhing hips, pressing against a growing hardness that frightened her. His body jerking against her and his mouth tugging at her breasts made her feel sick and excited at the same time. She gave a choking gasp as she felt his hand on her thigh, under her crumpled dress. She clenched her thighs together and felt a surging heat there that built with each nip and suckle of his mouth. Then, shock­ingly, his hand was nestling at the apex of her thighs, touching her through the thin panties. Even she never touched herself there. The nun's dire warnings about the consequences of letting a boy take 'liberties' rose up to

terrify her even more, and yet she still felt the terrible thrill. She gave a ha

lf-sob of shame.

Looking back it was amazing that the young, sexual animal that Ross Tarrant had been had even heard that pitifully weak protest, let alone been able to control himself sufficiently to pull away, taking huge, deep, shuddering breaths as he rested his head against the cold glass of the side window. But he had, and when he had calmed down he had even helped her readjust her clothing and told her that it was all right, they hadn't done anything wrong, that they had stopped in time. Not wanting to reveal the profundity of her ignorance she had allowed the moment to pass, conscious of his strained expression and feeling somehow to blame for being so inexperienced. As they got out of the car and she saw the anger on his face she touched him tentatively.

'Ross?'

He pulled sharply away, then groaned at her expression of hurt. 'Hell, Frankie, I'm sorry...'

'I'm not.' She smiled a brave, if shaky, smile. In spite of her earlier fear it was true, but the soft glow in her eyes just seemed to make him feel worse.

'Then, damn it, you should be. Frankie, you're not even sixteen yet!' He shuddered, and suddenly fixed her with an earnest look. 'I'll tell you what, Frankie, let's forget about tonight, OK?'

'Forget?' Forget the best night of her life! How could he even ask?

'I mean, let's start all over again and take it slow. As friends.'

'Oh, yes!' She blossomed anew with a painful sweetness that made the young man fighting his own inner battle wince. Her heart was in her eyes and he felt like the lowest swine, but perhaps it wasn't too late to redeem himself.

'And look, don't tell anyone else about to­night...I... we need to talk first, OK?' He took her hand and squeezed it, and thus it was they walked out of the darkness straight into her grandfather, waiting at the door of the dance-hall with a thunderous expression on his deeply seamed face. Fran was hauled off home in disgrace and delivered of a searing condemnation of her wicked, ungrateful behaviour. She had listened to the stern lecture with eyes downcast to hide her rebel­lious indifference. She didn't care if she was grounded for ever! She would still see Ross at school and they were going to be friends. Friendship with Ross was worth suf­fering chilly disapproval at home...she would be a martyr to love!