Sweetest Taboo (SIN 3)

Hope warred with fear inside him.

"I just want--oh, please, Dallas. I don't want to talk. Right now, I just want you to kiss me."

And that was it--that was the moment she broke him. He felt himself shatter, the fear that had hardened inside him like glass breaking into a million tiny pieces. He reached for her, then cupped her head and closed his mouth gently over hers.

Immediately, he became drunk on the taste of her, aroused by the feel of her.

He wanted to crush her body against his, to feel her heat, her heart. He wanted to bruise her mouth with his kisses and close his hands tight around her arms. He'd come so damn close to losing her, and he couldn't stand the thought of ever letting her go.

But he didn't--he couldn't. She was too fragile, and the possibility that he might hurt her--more, again--ate at him. So instead, he littered soft kisses on her face, her neck. He stroked her. Touched her. Hell, he worshipped her.

"Dallas?" Tentatively, her fingers brushed his face.

He blinked and focused on a space over her shoulder, knowing that he'd come completely undone if he looked into her eyes. "I thought I'd lost you. First, when you walked out. And then--and then--"

The words caught in his throat, too horrible to even voice. "Christ, Jane. I can't lose you."

Gently, her fingertip stroked his lower lip. Even more gently, she took his chin and forced him to look at her. "I'm right here."

"And thank God for that."

Their eyes met and held, and for a moment there was no time, no space, no world that judged them. There was just them.

Then she lunged, her mouth closing over his with such firm finality that it both broke the moment and had him laughing. "This is how I want you," she said, and he answered her silently but enthusiastically, pulling her hard against him, slamming his mouth against hers. Taking. Consuming. Until he was nothing but heat and need, an ache building in him that he couldn't quench no matter how tight he held her, how hard he kissed her.

He was lost in her, drowning in the sensuality of her fingernails digging into his back. Of her teeth claiming his lips. Of the way her pelvis ground hard against his erection.

With a low, needful groan, he slid his hands down and grabbed her hips, craving an even closer contact. He tightened his grip, pulled her toward him, then immediately released her and stepped back when she released a soft, sharp, "Oh!"

"Jane?"

She stood before him, breathing hard. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He frowned. "I hurt you."

"No. No, I'm fine." She shook her head, but he knew better. "Dallas, please. I don't want--"

"What?"

"Distance." She dragged her teeth over her lower lip as if she was unsure about how he felt.

"Oh, baby. No. Never." He held out his hand. "Come here."

She cocked her head, then narrowed her eyes. "Where?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

The speed of her reply sang in his heart. "Then let me take care of you."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "If you're thinking about putting me to bed, you can just stop that nonsense right now. I've been in a hospital for almost two days. Between boredom and sedatives, I'm all caught up on my sleep."

"I promise, sleep is the last thing on my mind."

That was a little bit of a lie. She'd protest, he knew, but she needed more sleep. Good sleep, not with nurses popping in and out and a sterile bed with the scent of hospital disinfectant permeating the room.

She'd sleep, all right. But he intended to make sure she was ready for it. That she would drift under, safe and warm and content in his arms.