His Most Wanted (8 page)

Chapter Eight

If Cora wasn't so tired, she would've laughed even harder at the state of Kit's second floor, which was as derelict as the downstairs, if not more so. They carried a lantern, illuminating dust and cobwebs at the top of the steps, and the master bedroom smelled so musty neither of them could step foot inside it.

A touch of sadness tugged at her heart for Kit. It couldn't be easy for the man, seeing the disorder of his new home after he'd traveled so far with the good intention of settling down to begin an honest life. It seemed cruel to make fun of him now, especially after his uncle's memorial.

The second bedroom beckoned invitingly with no drafty windows and a decent mattress and pillows awaiting them on the bed.

Cora set the lantern on the bed stand and went to the dresser to find the linens Ben had mentioned. When she turned back around with a pile of bedcovers in hand, she caught Kit staring at her, and her stomach fluttered.

Although he'd refused her on the mountain top, he'd been putting out signals for days, so maybe this was another of those times. Well, he could think again.

She'd tried to reciprocate, hadn't she? If he'd thought she was offering her body to him out of charity, he was dead wrong.

Oh.
Realization of her true feelings sent a ripple through her.

If she wasn't offering to make love out of charity that must mean…

Gracious.
An attraction to him or any man was dangerous. She couldn't afford a lover—least of all one who was a sheriff, for Pete's sake.

She averted her gaze and went to make the bed. “I think I could make a divider with this extra blanket. That way you could sleep on one side, and I could have the other.” Her voice wobbled with uncertainty.

She felt the heat of Kit's eyes upon her as she leaned over the mattress, smoothing out the wrinkles. While she rolled up the cover into a buffer, he said nothing, merely putting his gun aside and unbuttoning his sleeves.

Oh, dear God
, he was undressing. “Wait just one moment.” She dove across the bed for the lantern.

“Whoa, hold on.” He stopped her hand as she reached for the light. His touch was hot. As she waited half-stretched across the bed, she caught the tantalizing glimpse of his chest under the unbuttoned shirt. “You don't expect me to undress in the dark, do you?” he murmured in a silky voice.

She pulled loose from him. “No. Of course not.” Avoided his questioning stare, she unbuckled her gun belt and hung the holster over her side of the bed.

He sat on the edge of the mattress and drew in an intake of air between his teeth.

She froze at the sound. “Are you sure you're all right?”

“Splendid.” He opened the side of his shirt, exposing his tawny, smooth torso to the lamplight, and she feasted on the sculpted muscles of his side. “Just wonderful,” he grumbled, looking down at his chest.

She leaned around him and saw what had drawn his dry remark—a bruised knot just below his pectoral muscle. “Oh, I think you might have a broken rib.” Her outstretched fingers hovered over the lump, longing to soothe away the swelling.

His mouth skewered derisively. “I don't think the bone's broken. At least not as badly as the last time. After a brawl in Memphis, I'd thought if I had one more broken bone, I'd collapse like a tower of cards. I could barely draw a breath.”

She withdrew her hand as her gaze connected with his. It seemed incredible to imagine his body so damaged since it looked so perfect now. She smiled. “Let me help you remove your boots, at least. You should be as still as possible. Gracious, to think we walked all that distance today…”

She left the bed and went around to face him. Gathering his long legs in her arms, she stretched him out on the mattress. This time felt vastly different than the last time she'd tended him, when he'd been drunk and veritably defenseless. Now she was keenly aware of him, his power and his spell over her once he took her in an embrace.

“What about you?” He leaned against the oak headboard, pillowing his head on one of his arms as he watched.

“What about me?” She grabbed one boot behind the heel and tugged it off.

He studied her with frank interest. “You aren't sleeping in your clothes, are you?”

She sat beside him and glanced down at her traveling attire. “I am. What choice do I have?”

He was silent for a long moment as she removed the other boot and set it beside the first on the floor. “We're not in the Willows anymore,” he said, his voice gone gravelly.

She swallowed. Was he implying that she was free to do anything she wanted? Because what she presently wanted frightened the hell out of her. How could she act on her desires when at any moment the past might come back to interrupt?

“I can't undress. The light is still on.”

“You know what I'm talking about. Hell…the light, the divider, my nakedness? What's changed since we were up there on Dillard's Peak?” His eyes grew serious but held no trace of anger or impatience.

“Nothing.” She forced a smile.

“Cora.” He touched her knee and stroked the back of his fingers up her thigh. “It's not smart to bait a bear. Earlier today, you offered yourself to me. What if I'd called your bluff and taken you up on that?”

“I wasn't bluffin'. Not then anyway.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly feeling naked to him. “You said no, so there's the end of it.” Tears of humiliation pricked her eyes. How long would she suffer, unable to enjoy the very thing that was her livelihood—lovemaking, the pleasures of the bedroom? Her mama had enjoyed sex so well she'd given up everything to build a life around it.

Kit eased up, cringing with the effort, and touched her cheek with surprising gentleness. “You know I want you, and I think you feel the same. Tell me if I'm wrong, and I'll never say another word, never touch you again.”

Her tongue turned to stone, the response evading her, even though she felt certain he would keep his word since it had been so important to him earlier when they'd lost Andrea's attacker.

No, although it would keep him from her forever, she couldn't lie and say she didn't want him.

Her silence betrayed her thoughts, and Kit's eyes reflected his realization of the same. His brow smoothed and his gaze became liquid silver in the dim lamplight, his decision made. He traced her jaw with his fingertips, then leaned forward and gave her the softest kiss.

Pure heaven poured through her.

He held her cheek in his palm as he breathed in. His eyes were half-lidded as he eased back. “Cora, I have done much I am ashamed of, but I have always fought honorably, and I've never harmed a woman. I would never.” His gaze opened, and she felt a current pass from his hand to her, tangible evidence of how important it was for her to understand him.

“I'm not afraid of you.” Intending to prove it, she rested her hand over his heart. His skin was unexpectedly hot against hers. Her own heartbeat thundered, contrasting her words.

He lifted his brows in challenge, but his light touch lingered on her cheek as if he feared breaking the spell between them. “It's all right if you are. I've never met a man with a badge I fully trusted. All that power…” His gaze floated to her lips and back, telling her he thought about kissing her more and yet resisted. What was he waiting for?

Her.
The answer came to her with a rush of warmth, half from humiliation and half from appreciation for his kindness.

“W-what else did Andrea tell you besides what happened with her and McGruder?”

A tiny line appeared between his brows, but his gaze remained locked on her. “I think you know the answer to that. You'll find I'm nothing like him or his kind.” He took her hand from his chest and brought her knuckles to his mouth where he brushed a kiss across them. “You already know it. C'mere and let me show you, sweetheart.”

Desire coursed through her.

Though she was sure to regret it later, her decision was made. Throwing caution to the wind, she braced a hand on his shoulder and kissed him.

He sank his fingers into the hair at the back of her head, keeping her close, but once her mouth touched his, she stayed of her own volition. Blood thundered in her ears as he swept his tongue between her parted lips and kissed her as if she belonged to him. He snaked his other arm around her and pulled her closer until she was in his lap. She slipped her hands inside his open shirt and found the hard curves of his warm shoulders.

He deepened the kiss, and she felt the urge to burrow under his skin, wanting to connect with him and know him more intimately.

She grasped the waist of his pants, but he stopped her, covering her hands with his.

“Remove your clothes for me,” he murmured.

She glanced at the lantern, her heart swooping with sudden self-consciousness. “What? Why?”

“I want to watch you. Just pretend you're alone.”

“Right.” She sat back, clutching the edges of her shirt. As if anyone
could
forget Kit Wainwright's gorgeous blue eyes were watching as ravenous as if she were a juicy steak.

When he gave no quarter on the issue, she stood on weak legs and turned sideways so that her body was standing half in the light. She unbuttoned her vest and shirt first and dropped them on the floor, leaving her body exposed in her pale blue corset, which, truth be told, she'd chosen to wear that day because it was the same color as Kit's eyes. Bordered in lace and made of satin, it was an excessively extravagant piece of underwear, but it made her feel lovely. Decadent. And, yes, she had wanted him to see her wearing it.

She unbuttoned her pants and slid her hands inside the waist band, easing the fabric down her hips until the garment dropped to her feet. She kicked out of her boots and pants. Wearing nothing but her undergarments, she glanced up at Kit. Her face hot with exertion, she wasn't expecting the intense expression that greeted her. His gaze roved over her with appreciation while he unceremoniously pulled off his shirt. Exposed to her now, every muscle of his body stood in relief.

After tossing his shirt to the floor, he swung his feet down and stood.

Her belly quivered as he approached to tower over her, reminding her again of their size difference. She'd always been shorter than most women of her acquaintance, but beside him, she felt diminutive and utterly fragile.

He touched her chin and tipped her head back. “You're lovelier than I imagined. May I?” His other hand paused over her breasts, and she felt the phantom of his touch on her skin. “These laces can be tricky.”

The laces were in the back, but she didn't argue. He appeared to have enough experience with undergarments to know what he was doing. He traced the satin-lined boning, skimming over her breasts. His palm then passed over the swell of her breasts, followed by his tongue above the scalloped lace. Rapturous delight spread through her. Unsteady from the rush of pleasure, she wavered on her feet and clutched his shoulders for balance.

“Are you sure you can manage? You must be sore,” she said quietly.

He murmured something in response, the answer unrecognizable as it was muffled by his kisses on her skin. His hands spanned her sides and moved slowly behind her back until he reached the tie of the ribbon lacing at the bottom. His mouth returned to hers for another mind-numbing kiss, and he clasped her buttocks in each hand before twining a finger in the bow. She felt a tug and the corset released. He kissed her cheek, then her neck, as his fingers made their artful work of loosening the ribbon opening along her spine. Every move he made was subtle and soft, muted as if she'd only dreamt it. Gone were his playfulness, his flirtation and bold actions, and in their place, he exhibited supreme self-control.

Tears of pleasure pricked her eyes as he slid the corset off and brought his mouth back to hers for a kiss as slow as molasses. Light fingertips fell over the peaks of her nipples, drawing all her senses, making her ache for more. She leaned into his hands, filling them with her full breasts, and he groaned in her mouth.

Needing to explore his flesh, she slid her palms down his chest, avoiding his hurt rib, until she reached the plane of his stomach where his taut muscles jerked beneath her cool touch.

He drew back and rested his forehead against hers. “Sweet heaven, I love your hands on me.”

She smiled and reached for his pants, but he stepped back.

“Not yet. I'm not finished admiring you.”

Her cheeks heated. She hadn't felt so modest in years—not since before when she'd been untouched. Hands trembling, she slipped her thumbs under the waistband of her drawers and pulled them down before stepping out of them.

Steadying her, he gripped her sides, his thumbs stroking her bare flesh. Then he leaned down and put his mouth around her nipple, surrounding her in velvet warmth so fine she wanted to enjoy the moment forever. She burrowed her fingers in his thick hair, holding him as he licked each nipple, pulling the hardened nubs into his mouth and suckling. All the while, he caressed her body as if he couldn't get enough of the feel of her. She melted, her insides straining with need, drawing lower and lower in her belly until the ache was nearly unbearable.

Leaving her breasts, Kit sank to his knees, his hands moving across the backs of her thighs. “You took a hard fall. These bruises…” His voice became softer as he kissed a circle around the tender spot on her thigh.

“I'm fine. What about you? Aren't you hurting?” She touched his cheeks and tilted his face to see his expression.

“I'm dying, dear lady, but I hope you'll soon put me out of my misery.” His hands continued to skim along her tingling skin, rounding the curve of her buttocks and persuading her closer until his face was just above the vee between her legs. He pressed his coarse cheek against her leg, his breath a warm brush over her. “Let me kiss you.”