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‘Too much, too soon?” she murmured dryly.
“Getting used to a wife is enough for now,” he said. He let his eyes wander slowly over her. “You
have a beautiful body.”
“So have you.”
He kissed her softly. “We’d better get some sleep-And, sadly enough, I do mean sleep.” He sighed as
he rose, cloth in hand. “I’m not prepared for anything else until we go into town. Unless...there are
other ways if you really want...”
She blushed wildly and changed the subject. “Where are we getting married?”
“In a little chapel down the street.” He grinned. “They’re open at ten o’clock. We’ll be waiting on the
doorstep.”
“You aren’t sorry?” she asked as he started into the bathroom.
He turned, his body open for her inspection, his face faintly smiling. He shook his head. “Are you?”
She shook her head, too. He laughed and went on into the bathroom. Minutes later she was curled up
in his arms, both of them without a stitch on, the lights off and the sounds of the city at night purring
in through the window.
“You can have one of my undershirts if you like,” he said gently.
“I’d rather sleep like this, if it won’t bother you,” she murmured.
“I prefer it this way, too,” he confessed. He drew her closer. “Breathing may be a little difficult, and I
may die of a heart attack trying not to indulge myself a third time, but I prefer it like this. Good night,
lieveling.”
“Good night, Eric.” She curled up against him with a trusting sigh and was surprised to find herself
drifting off to sleep only seconds later.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dani was dreaming. She felt as if she were floating, drifting, her body bare and fulfilled. She
stretched, smiling, and a voice brought her awake.
“Don’t struggle, darling,” a male voice chuckled. “You’ll make me drop you.”
Her gray eyes flew open along with her mouth, and she realized that Dutch was carrying her into the
bathroom, where a huge steaming bathtub waited.
“Don’t you want a bath?” he murmured dryly.
“Oh, yes,” she said sleepily. “I had planned on waking up before I got in the water.” She curled into
his chest, snuggled her face against his throat, and closed her eyes with a sigh. “But my pillow started
moving.”
He laughed, realizing with a start that he’d laughed more in the past two days than in the past ten
years. He looked down at her creamy body, her full breasts pressed into the rippling muscle and
feathery hair of his chest. She was vulnerable with him. Yet, he sensed that she was much like him in
her independence, her wild spirit.
“Wake up or you’ll drown,” he said.
“I thought I already had, and gone to heaven,” she replied, smiling against his throat. She wasn’t even
surprised to find herself with him. She seemed to have dreamed about him all night long.
“We have to get married,” he said.
“Going to make an honest woman of me, hmm?” she teased, peeking up at him.
But he didn’t smile. “You’re already an honest woman. The first I’ve ever known. Hold on.”
He eased her down into the warm silky water and then climbed in beside her. They soaped each other
lazily, enjoying the different textures of their bodies, exploring openly.
“I feel like a child playing doctor,” he told her with a wicked glance.
“It’s old hat to you, I suppose,” she said, watching her hands move on his muscular chest, “but I’ve
never touched a man like this. It’s all very new to me just now.”
He moved her hands down, watching the flush on her face and the panic in her eyes. “All right,” he
said gently as she resisted. “You’re still shy with me. I won’t insist.”
“Old maids have lots of hang-ups,” she said quietly.
“I’ll get rid of yours before the week’s out,” he promised. “Want some more soap?”
She let him lather her back. Something was niggling at the back of her mind, and she glanced at him
worriedly as he rinsed her.
“What is it?” he asked gently.
‘Something you said last night. About...about precautions.”
“There’s no problem,” he said carelessly. “I’ll stop by a drugstore. When we get back to the States, if
you’d rather not risk the pill, there’s some minor surgery a man can have—”
Her eyes were horrified. The drawn look on her face stopped him in mid-sentence.
“You don’t ever want children, do you?” she asked, choking on the words.
He looked hunted. “Hell,” he bit off. Why had she brought up the subject! He watched her scramble
out of the tub and fumble a towel around herself.
“We aren’t even married yet, and you’re harping about a family,” he burst out, rising to his feet, his
handsome face hard with anger. “What the hell do we need kids for? They’re a permanent tie. A
bond.”
“Isn’t marriage?” she asked huskily.
“Of course,” he grumbled, grabbing up a towel. “But not like kids.”
“You never answered me,” she said quietly. “You don’t ever want them, do you?”
“No,” he said flatly, tired of the pretense, hating the memories the discussion was bringing back. “Not
ever.”
She turned and walked back into the bedroom. She didn’t know him at all. And the first thing she was
going to do was cut her losses. She’d go back to her room and forget him. How could she expect to
live all her life without a child? What kind of man was he?
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