Brides of the West (7 page)

Longing overcame reason. She stretched up,
her fingers encountering long silky hair at his nape. He leaned
forward, just enough for his lips to be in range of hers. She rose
on tiptoes and kissed him, discovered the warm velvet feel of his
mouth, tasted the faint tang of tobacco and coffee.

A goodbye kiss. The kiss one might give a
brother, if it were not for the pounding of her heart, the pulse
beat at her temple, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

His arm slid around her back, a firm warm
hand cradled her skull. He angled his mouth, nibbled her bottom lip
and she opened to him. His tongue slipped inside, his hips pressed
against her belly, one thigh eased between her legs sending sparks
of lust skittering down her veins like embers from a blazing
fire.

She moaned and leaned against him, let her
mind empty and her body sing its own song.

He broke the kiss. “I want you,” he said, his
voice thick and hoarse.

Dazed, breathless, burning with desire, she
recognized the request for permission. Her body clamored for her to
say yes. Her heart warned of the danger. If she gave herself, it
would be with her soul. And tomorrow she was leaving. He didn’t
want her as a wife.

Never had she felt such passion for a man.
She also had no doubt that if she said no, that would be the end of
it. They would return to the campfire and their own separate
beds.

And convincing Albert to come home wouldn’t
help with her lonely nights.

After tomorrow, she would return to her old
life, dutiful daughter, sister and widow. Convenient. Practical.
Passionless.

She’d regret it for the rest of her life.

“I want you, too,” she said.

He inhaled a sharp hiss of breath, pulled her
shirt from the waistband of her pants, skimmed her ribs with
calloused fingers, cupped her breasts.

A groan rumbled up from his chest and he
pulled her close for a kiss. While his tongue worked magic in her
mouth, his hands explored her breasts, rolled her nipples between
thumb and forefinger, weighed and measured and caressed in gentle
circles. Weakness invaded her limbs, her insides melted.

The hammering of his heart against her palm
tempted her own exploration. Her fingertips followed the contours
of a rock hard chest, lean powerful shoulder, sculpted biceps. The
man was as sleek as a lion, but the shirt seemed to keep her at a
distance when she wanted to blend into him. She unfastened the
shirt’s top two buttons and slipped a hand inside the fabric. Silky
skin roughened by a patch of hair in the center of his wide chest,
met her touch. She curled her fingers in the springy curls and
tugged.

“Mmmm,” he murmured against her mouth. Then
stepped back and whipped the shirt over his head, tossing it onto
the grass at his feet.

She undid her buttons and let the billowing
shirt slide to the ground. Would he shy away from her skinny,
almost boyish body? Her husband had tolerated it on the few
occasions he’d felt the urge to copulate. She shivered, suddenly
cold despite the warm night air.

Desire softened the hard angles of his face
as his gaze skimmed lingeringly down her length. “Lovely,” he
breathed. He shook his head. “Beautiful.”

The reverence in his hushed resonant voice
meant far more than mere words. Tears of joy and hope welled up to
blur her vision. She dashed them away with the heel of her hand
before his mouth came down hard on hers, demanding, giving, wanting
and blissfully generous.

Her core clenched and unfurled in quickening
beats, sending waves of heat to her breasts, tightening her
nipples, sensitizing every inch of her flesh where it came in
contact with him.

The warm hand on her back stroked, circled,
caressed her ribs, her spine the curve of her bottom, then rose to
the waistband of her borrowed pants. He slid one finger beneath the
fabric, following the edge from her back to the front, tickling the
sensitive spot on her hip, grazing her stomach with tantalizing
slowness until it paused at the button.

She held her breath, then swallowed.

“Are you sure?” he murmured against her
mouth, his voice rough as if his throat had tightened to the limit
of its endurance.

“Yes,” she whispered, wanting to say hurry,
before she started to think, to analyze, to regain her senses.

As if he sensed her urgency, the buttons
popped free in quick succession. He crouched to peel the pants over
her hips, taking her drawers along with them. He pressed his lips
to her mound. A shiver wracked her body. She grabbed for his
shoulder. He turned his cheek against her belly and the stubble on
his jaw grazed her delicate skin in a delicious mix of pain and
pleasure. She tangled her fingers in his hair for balance as, one
foot at a time, he freed her from boots and trousers until she
stood naked in the moonlight, white as a ghost against the tan of
his hands splayed on her hips. Spray from the falling water cooled
her skin and puckered her nipples. Still kneeling at her feet, he
gazed at her woman’s curls, pressed a warm palm to the flat of her
stomach, brushed his fingers over her breasts. Their gazes
clashed.

Even in this palest of light, she saw blue
heat in the depths of his crystal gaze. She bowed her head, let her
hair fall forward to cover her shoulders and the tingling peaks of
her breasts

“Now you,” she gasped, suddenly tense,
uncomfortable, as shy as a virgin.

His hands felt light on her waist, and hot,
as he reached his full height without a word. He pulled off his
boots, the spurs a faint jangle, then stripped his pants away.

His manhood sprang free. Big, hard,
unerringly nosing in the direction of her woman’s centre.

Her mouth went dry. Fear? Lust? A little of
both.

He glanced around with a small wry grimace,
bent to spread their clothes on the patch of grass giving her a
view of lean buttocks, firm flanks and a broad back. Pure masculine
beauty. Hers for a night. She wanted to feel that strength inside
her, taking her. Hard and fast. Now.

She sank on the makeshift bed, pulling him
down with her, taking his mouth, nibbling his lips, tasting the hot
cavity of his mouth with her tongue. He didn’t hesitate. His hands
were all over her, touching as if they could taste.

She parted her thighs and he slid a finger
insider her cleft. Pleasure weighted her eyelids and limbs. “Yes,”
she cried.

Was he dreaming? Like some schoolboy with his
dick in his hand in the small hours of the night? Would he awake
alone as usual? The moisture slicking his fingers, the sound of her
mewling breaths in his ear, told him this was real and it was
heaven on earth.

He stroked her inner flesh with his finger.
Her passage was tight, almost virginal, and as hot and wet as a
wanton. All contradiction, this fragile yet tough woman. Perhaps he
was wrong to think she couldn’t survive out here? He couldn’t
think, not with her writhing beneath his hands, her skin sliding
over his. He pressed deeper, harder. She circled her hips, taking
more pleasure for herself. Her demand drove him wild with want.

He found the beaded nub of her pleasure
center with his thumb, teased and circled and rubbed. Her scream of
pleasure hardened his balls to rock, but when her fingers slid
along the crack of his ass and stroked behind his balls, his brain
felt ready to explode.

Oh God, he was going to come before he got
inside.

Grabbing for every shred of control in his
power, he eased his finger from her soft wet heat and rubbed the
head of his sex in her wonderful moisture. Slowly, aware of her
narrowness, afraid he might cause her pain, he pushed into her
entrance and held still, to get her used to his girth before he
gave her the full length.

Her sigh created a storm of pleasure in his
veins. She tilted her hips, opening to him, encouraging him deeper.
“Oh God, Tess,” he groaned. “Take it slow.” He palmed her breast,
felt it pebble, bent to lave it with his tongue, drew it into his
mouth and suckled.

Her screams of encouragement ripped through
the night. Pride swelled his shaft unbearably, the need to
dominate, to pound, to climax, the instinct to spill his life force
inside her shuddered his frame. Wait. She had to go first.

He eased deeper, feeling the squeeze of her
inner muscles on his demanding sex, then pulled back, cold air
hitting hot skin a delicious torture of the need to drive home. She
lifted her legs around his hips, her feet dragging him closer. He
let go and drove deep, pounding, thrust after thrust, giving hard
and feeling her take and take and take more and deeper.

Tess thought she might die of pleasure. This
was the lovemaking she’d missed out on. This urgent give and take,
the deep penetration, the waves of pleasure so huge they blinded
and shivered and pounded her senses until they were one being, one
heartbeat, one flow of blood. She hovered on the brink of something
wonderful and frightening.

“Come for me, Tess,” he grated on a harsh
shivery out rush of air in her ear. “Now, Tess.” He sounded
tortured.

It was there, just out of reach.

“Let go, Tess.”

She shattered, screaming her pleasure,
proclaiming her joy, her possession of this glorious man. Tremors
shook her from stem to stern. She clung to his shoulders, felt her
nails bite his skin.

He groaned, pulled out of her as if in pain,
and then spilled his seed on her belly. Chest heaving, lips pressed
to her cheek, he held himself over her, grabbing his neckerchief to
wipe her skin. He collapsed on his side, nuzzling the point of her
shoulder. He drew in a shaky breath. “That was close.”

She snuggled against his chest and he put one
arm around her shoulders. Never had she felt so happy, so sated, so
content. She pushed away the sadness that there was no chance of a
child. A memento like that would be her undoing.

***

Their heartbeats and breathing slowly
returned to normal. The liquid heat in Jake’s veins cooled. The
thunder of his heart returned to manageable levels.

He rolled on his back, pulling her tight
against his side, supporting her length on one arm to lift her
clear of the hard ground. The warm night air cocooned them, but he
pulled Matt’s shirt across her shoulders in case she felt
chilled.

An unexpected sense of exhilaration burst
like rockets in his head.

What the hell? Yes, it had been a long time,
but never had the primal urge to mate, to brand a woman as his,
been so strong a life force.

His chest felt full of something he dimly
recognized, but had suppressed for too many years to make its
intrusion anything but painful. The same kind of crippling pain
he’d felt when his efforts to please his father had been met by
sneering slurs.

Compared to this sudden invasion of raw
emotion, duty and responsibility seemed like pale shadows. He clung
to them. They’d served him well these past years, allowed him to
meet his obligation to his nephews without involvement. If their
mother took them back, he’d be secure in the knowledge he’d done
his best. Yet somehow this passionate, strong, ornery scrap of a
female had stirred things up inside him so bad, he desperately
wanted to take the risk and ask her to stay.

She was no beauty in the accepted sense, she
was far too skinny. But strength of character shone from her green
eyes. She didn’t simper and bat her eyelashes, she faced the world
full on and forthright, and didn’t shrink from hard work. And her
passion. Just thinking about her demanding responses made him
quicken and harden.

In the sliver of sky above his head the stars
seemed to wink with mocking scorn. ‘You knew,’ they seemed to say
in bright tinny voices.

Yes. He’d known. The truth hurt, made him
feel like a coward. He acknowledged it anyway. The moment he’d seen
her dozing on that rock, he’d wanted her more than anything he’d
wanted in a very long time. Instinctively, he’d protected himself
the only way he knew. He’d rejected her.

Had he made a terrible mistake by not giving
her a chance? Was it too late? He’d never know if he didn’t ask. He
steeled himself and cupped her angular jaw, his fingers tangling in
her mass of tumbled hair.

She raised her face for his kiss and passion
swept good intentions away.

***

Tess loved the feel of his velvet mouth
against hers, the sound of his sharp intake of breath when she
nibbled his bottom lip seeking entrance.

The kiss deepened until she felt dizzy with
wanting, rather like the sensation of too much champagne at someone
else’s wedding. Knowing this would be their only night together
made her want him all the more, while her heart ached for the
loss.

To her disappointment, he broke the kiss and
nestled her head beneath his chin on his chest.

Poor pathetic Tess, always hankering for what
she couldn’t have.

“You did a good job today,” he said. The
words pleasantly vibrated against her ear, as if they were man and
wife, tucked up in bed discussing the day’s events.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I loved the way
you and Raven twirled those ropes. How you pulled those poor steers
out of the water.”

His fingers brushed the curls back from her
face. “Hey. You called them steers. I think you’re gettin’ the hang
of it.”

She couldn’t stop her sigh for what might
have been, but disguised it with a laugh. “So I did.”

He inhaled through his nose as if to say
something important. The silence crackled with a strange sort of
tension. She felt his stomach muscles tighten beneath her hand.

“You could stay a few more days,” he
drawled.

Tess realized she’d been holding her breath.
She let it out slowly, hopefully. “Why?”

“I guess I didn’t give you a fair chance,” he
said.

Not her longed-for answer. With a wave of her
hand, she encompassed their entwined limbs. “If it’s about...this,
you don’t need to worry. I wanted it as much as you.”