«Hold onto me, Willow. Hold on hard. I’m going to touch you again. There’s something I have to know.»
Willow started to ask what Caleb meant, but the movement of his hand took her breath away. Tenderly, relentlessly, two fingers pressed into her tight, sleek center. Her nails dug suddenly into his bare shoulders. At first Caleb thought he was hurting Willow. Then he felt her shiver, felt the sultry pulses of her pleasure. He smiled through clenched teeth and probed lightly, seeking her depths. He was barred from them by the taut, frail barrier of her maidenhead.
Breath hissed through Caleb’s clenched teeth at the proof of Willow’s innocence. He knew he should withdraw from her, leaving her virginity intact if not untouched.
And he knew he could not force himself to withdraw.
The certainty that Willow was no man’s fancy lady made it impossible for Caleb to release her. She hadn’t known a man’s kiss, hadn’t known the touch of a man’s hands on her breasts, hadn’t known the tender, savage fires of passion. Yet she knelt nearly naked in front of him now, accepting his presence within her innocence, and her softness caressed him in return, urging him to explore more deeply the secrets only he had ever touched.
She was his, only his, and he should not take her.
«Willow.»
Her name was as much a groan as a word, but she understood. She made amurmurous sound that was pleasure and questioning combined.
«You’re a virgin,» Caleb said simply.
Willow opened her mouth. Nothing came out but a gasp of pleasure when he moved within her.
«I — that is —» She shuddered and threw back her head, forgetting what she had been going to say.
«Don’t bother trying to deny it. I’m touching the proof of your chastity right now.» Caleb’s eyes opened. Passion made them almost opaque, like hammered gold. His voice was as rough as his touch was gentle. «What is he to you?»
«Who?»
«Matthew Moran.»
Willow blinked and tried to gather her thoughts. «My brother. Matt is my brother.»
Caleb went utterly still for an instant before breath rushed out of him as though at a body blow. Killing Willow’s fancy man was one thing. Killing her brother was entirely another.
Willow would never forgive him.
Her brother. Rebecca’s seducer, the man who murdered my sister as surely as if he had put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.
Willow’s brother!
Closing his eyes, shutting out Willow, Caleb tried to ease the strident demands of the hunger clawing at his body so that he could think. All he could do was scream silently inside his mind at the savage trick of fate that finally had given him a woman whose passions ran as strong and deep and hot as his own, only to make it impossible to have her, leaving him empty in ways he had never been empty before.
Slowly, Caleb began withdrawing from Willow’s body, feeling as though he were being torn in two, yet knowing if he took her, she would hate herself when she saw him standing over her brother’s body.
Her brother’s killer.
Her lover.
Willow.
Caleb didn’t know he had spoken her name aloud until he felt the warm rush of Willow’s breath over her lips.
«It’s all right,» she said urgently. «I understand. I finally understand.» Her kisses were quick, biting, almost frantic as she felt Caleb’s touch sliding from her body, setting her afire all over again even as he withdrew. «Listen to me,» she said, her voice shaking. «You told me that one day I would be on my knees in front of you, only I wouldn’t be begging you to stop. You were right. I’m begging you now, Caleb. Don’t stop. If you stop touching me, I’ll die. Please, Caleb. I’m beg —»
With an anguished sound, Caleb took Willow’s mouth, stilling the pleas that were too painful for him to hear any longer. He kissed her deeply, wanting to sink so completely into her that she would never be able to turn her back on him, no matter what he did, no matter who died.
The kiss wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Willow knew it as well as Caleb did. Her hand went down his body, blindly seeking to complete the joining he had prepared her for. Slender fingers found Caleb, measured him, approved him with an honesty that nearly undid him. He shook with the force of the passion raging through his body, demanding to be freed of all restraint.
With a thick sound of need, Caleb put his hand over Willow’s as he pulled her down onto his thighs, pressing his aching flesh against her, gently parting the soft folds of skin and touching even softer flesh, pushing a finger’s width into her before control returned and he forced himself to stop.
But he could not force himself to withdraw.
«Willow,» Caleb said hoarsely. «Push me away.»
She curled her hand around him, but not to follow his command. The pressure of his hard flesh just inside her body was delicious. She wanted more of him, not less. She settled more completely over him and instinctively drew up her knees, pushing him a bit more deeply into her body.
«No!» Caleb said, clenching his hands around Willow’s narrow waist, stilling her motions. «If I take your innocence, someday you’ll hate yourself as much as you’ll hate me.»
Eyes closed, she shivered and pressed harder, taking more of him.
«Oh God,» he groaned. «Willow, don’t.»
«I can’t help it. I’ve needed you all my life and I didn’t even know it. I love you, Caleb Black.» She leaned forward and kissed him, wanting him. «I love you.»
Agony twisted through Caleb, tearing him until he wanted to scream his protest at the casual cruelty of life. Willow loved him…and as soon as he found Reno, love would become hate.
But it was too late for regrets, too late for explanations, too late for anything except the sweet violence of passion claiming them.
«Open your eyes, Willow. I want to see you. I want to remember what it was like to be loved by you, because sure as sunrise, someday you’ll hate me.»
Caleb’s voice was hoarse beyond recognition. Willow’s eyes opened slowly. They were luminous with love, smoky with passion. She watched his eyes as he pressed more deeply into her. He wanted to ask if he was hurting her, but he had no voice. He had taken women with affection, with gentleness, with pleasure, yet never before had he felt the shattering intimacy of joining himself with a woman in the way he was joining with Willow now — openly, watching her as she watched him, seeing and feeling the exact instant when he transformed her body from virgin to woman, hearing her soft cries as he filled her completely, knowing each elemental shivering of passion through her as though it were his own body shivering.
He would have spoken to her then, told her how beautiful she was, how much the gift of her innocence meant to him, but he couldn’t breathe. She was sleek and tight around him, and the honey of her passion was hotter than the pool. He rocked gently against her, heard her breath break, and forced himself to be still.
«Am I hurting you?» Caleb asked in a low voice.
«No,» Willow said. «It’s good — so good. Like flying. Like riding fire. Oh God — I can’t bear it. Don’t stop — don’t ever stop!»
Willow’s broken words took the world away, leaving only the fire of passion consuming both of them. Caleb found her mouth in a kiss that was both tender and yet demanded her very soul. His fingers sank deeply into her hips, squeezing, feeling the hidden shuddering of her response tugging at him, stripping away his control one hot pulse at a time. Blindly, he searched through the wet silk of her hair, seeking her most sensitive flesh, discovering it taut and full. He caught the sleek nub between his fingers, rubbing as he rocked against her, harder and deeper each time.
Caleb’s name was torn from Willow’s throat as passion wracked her. Her anguished cry seared through him, driving him more deeply into her, taking both of them more deeply into the heart of fire. He drank her cries as he wanted to drink the passion coursing through her, to know every bit of her, to sink into her soul. Knowing he should hold back, yet needing her too much to control the full force of his passion, he stroked her soft flesh hungrily, relentlessly, demanding everything she could give to him.