Harvest Moon (Borrowed Brides 2)

“Leave it alone, Tessa,” David said softly, “a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“And you’re a gentleman, aren’t you, Mr. Alexander? The perfect gentleman.” Tessa hurled the words at him. “What about last night? What happened to you then? Did some of the savage come out? Did you forget to be a gentleman with me?”

Her barb hit home.

“Yes.” He paled, stepping back as if she’d wounded him. “Yes, I forgot everything except taking what you offered. Everything except burying myself inside you.” His words evoked the images. David groaned, feeling himself swell with anticipation.

“What is it you’re afraid of, Mr. Alexander?” Tessa taunted. “Me or yourself?” She snatched her nightgown off the back of David’s leather chair.

“Both.” David, o

ne step behind, reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into his body. “Both of us, dammit. And what we do to each other!” Leaning down, he covered her mouth with his own. Tessa’s nightgown fell to the floor, unnoticed.

The kiss mirrored his frustration and his need—hard and punishing at first, then softer, gentler, more loving. David buried his hands in her hair. He touched the red strands, tangling his long fingers in their silkiness, holding her head at the perfect angle to meet his questing mouth and tongue.

Tessa’s arms went around his waist. She kissed him back, meeting his tongue with her own, melting against him, offering him her body and her love.

David felt the soft cushion of her breasts against his chest, felt the buttons of his shirt pressing into the muscles of his stomach. David deepened the kiss, placed his hands on her hips and fitted her against him. God, he wanted her! Needed her to stop the ache.

But he couldn’t have her. He couldn’t take her.

“No, Tessa.” David broke the intimate contact. He moved his mouth away from hers, then took her arms from around his waist. “Stop.” He put her away from him, out of his reach, then moved around the office, gathering up her stray clothing.

“What’s wrong?” Tessa murmured.

“We can’t do this.” He thrust the clothes into her arms.

“I don’t understand,” Tessa said. “You want to. I want to. Why can’t we?” Didn’t he realize that they might never have another chance? Didn’t he realize what might happen to her? That she could die in prison?

“Because I need to be thinking about your hearing, not how wonderful you feel beneath me. I should be thinking about winning your freedom, not making love.” David gazed down at her. “And so should you. Dammit, Tessa, do you want to go back to jail?”

“How can you ask me that?” Tessa demanded. “No, of course I don’t want to go back to jail. I worry about it during the day. I dream about it at night. I think about my case. I think about being convicted of murder and being sent back to jail nearly every minute of every day.” She looked up at David and saw the harsh lines at the corners of his mouth, saw the frustration in his eyes.

“I’m not going to let that happen.” David wanted to shake her for her lack of faith in him, and at the same time he wanted to hold her and kiss her and tell her how much he admired her courage.

“You may not be able to prevent it,” she said.

And they both knew it was true.

“Then help me, dammit.” David’s voice was raw with emotion. He wasn’t going to lose Tessa, not when he’d just found her. He moved closer and put his hands on her shoulders.

It was a mistake.

Tessa leaned into him, her lips poised for kissing.

He touched his lips to hers before he could stop himself.

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, increasing the contact.

The moment her breasts pressed against him, David came to his senses. He broke off the kiss. “No.” His voice sounded firm. “We’re not going to repeat what happened last night. We’re not going to tempt fate and risk having you become pregnant.”

A thought occurred to Tessa. “The girls at the Satin Slipper don’t have babies.”

“The girls at the Satin Slipper know how to protect themselves,” David told her.

“Do you know how to do that?”

“Yes.”