Diamond Spur. Diana Palmer

I come near you?” His hands tightened on her arms. “What happened this morning has haunted me all day. All I’ve thought about since is your mouth and how badly I want it. And that,” he said tersely, “is the whole problem.”

      “And you don’t want commitment,” she said, almost reading the thoughts in his mind. “You’re afraid of what could happen.”

      “That’s the bottom line, honey,” he said, his voice quiet and somber.

      She wondered if he knew that his hard words were shattering her dreams. Kate searched his face with wide, sad eyes. “You can’t trust even me, can you, Jason?”

      “No,” he said quietly. He drew in a slow breath. His eyes brooded as he brought her completely against his chest and pressed her cheek to him, bending his own cheek against her dark hair. He could feel the hard tips of her breasts against his chest even now. She was already aroused, and he hadn’t touched her. He kept her a little away, because the touch of her was equally arousing to him, and he couldn’t hide it if her legs touched his.

      “I’ve had some hard experiences in the past,” he said, his voice deep and slow in the stillness of the living room. The eyes she couldn’t see were haunted. “First my mother, leaving me and Gene at the mercy of that wild-eyed alcoholic of a father. Then Melody, chasing after rainbows that meant more than I did.” His hand touched her long hair, pulling at it idly. “Kate, I wanted marriage then,” he said slowly, deeply. “I wanted a woman to love me and make a home for me. I wanted a baby growing in her body, and the hope of a warm, close family like I’d never had. All my life, I’ve felt like an outsider looking in. I tried to explain it to Melody.” His chest expanded roughly. “And then she told me about the movie contract they’d offered her. And how she felt about children. She didn’t want them. Not ever.”