In Your Arms (Montana Romance) (18 page)

It wasn’t news that Samuel was
strong-arming the town council. That had been apparent for weeks. It was what lay between the lines—the mention of all lawbreakers—that settled uneasily on Christian’s shoulders. Between the newspaper and the things Wilkins had said at the courthouse, Christian had the bad feeling everyone from the prisoner in the jail to Sturdy Oak and his people had better watch their backs.

Lily would have to watch her back.

Christian sighed and tossed the newspaper on the tabletop. The thought burned a hole in his gut. He took a long drink of his lukewarm coffee before grimacing and pushing his chair back. If Samuel so much as hinted trouble was in store for Lily, then maybe it was time for him to bypass Kent entirely and find the thieves himself.

He blew out a breath as the energy of the thought spiked then left him.
As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t waltz in and do Kent’s job for him. He could, however, stand over the man’s shoulder and make sure he did what he was paid for.

He was halfway to the sink
to dump his coffee when a knock sounded on his door. He scowled, emptied the coffee down the drain and set the cup aside, then crossed the kitchen into the front room of his small house. The knock came again, too quiet to be any kind of an emergency that would warrant him having to answer the door in his house-sweater hours after dark.

“What?” he demanded as he opened the door.

Lily stood on the other side. She was bundled in her coat and disheveled enough from the stiff breeze that swirled snow between his house and the courthouse to look like a wildcat after a bowl of milk. His body reacted with enough force to fell a tree.

She
blinked at the hot and hard look he gave her, shifting from startled to irate so fast that he almost didn’t feel the bottom go out of his stomach.

“I was coming to make sure you hadn’t done anything rash,” she whispered, more of a hiss, “but if you treat all of your visitors like this….”

She turned to leave. He grabbed her arm and pulled her through the door into his living room, shutting the door behind her.

“What are you doing here?
It’s late,” he asked, still holding her arm.

She was chilled and seemed to suck all of the heat in the room straight into her.
It made him want to wrap himself around her and warm her up even more.

“I just told you why I’m here,” she said.
“I wanted to make certain you didn’t cause a scene with Mr. Kuhn and Lieutenant Wilkins at the jail today, that you didn’t make things worse.”

He dropped her arm and moved to rub his chin.
An odd sort of relief joined his flaring desire and loosened the knot that the newspaper article had formed in his stomach. Regardless of her reasons, if she was here, he could keep her safe. He could do more than that, if she would let him. Her cheeks may have been rose-pink and her lips bright with cold, but it was the underlying spark in her eyes that made him smile.

“You’re here because you’re worried about what I said to Samuel and Wilkins?”

“Yes.”

“Lily, that’s the lamest excuse for knocking on my door at ten at night that anyone has ever given me.”

True to form, she bristled, planting her mittened hands on her hips. “Is that how you thank someone who is concerned about you? By insulting them?”

“If they’re being obtuse, yes,” he
said, heart beating faster.

“Obtuse?
” she responded with all the fire he loved about her. “For caring whether you embarrass yourself in front of a rival? For hoping you are smart enough not to alienate the people who could help you release that man in the jail and keep Sturdy Oak’s people safe?”

His grin dropped at her words.
“They’re safe. I swear they are. Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?”

Of all things, instead of railing at him she turned a deep shade of rose and lowered her head.

“I….”

Nothing followed.
She shifted her weight, swaying slightly, mittened hands clenched in front of her. Her hair was escaping in wisps from her big, shapeless hat and the braid down her back. She looked like a guilty schoolgirl who had been blown halfway across Montana. Good lord, how he wanted her!

He took a deep breath, debating whether to
strip her out of her winter things and bend her over the arm of his sofa or send her on her way or waiting to see what might happen next. He needed to make a decision fast. The sight and smell of her there in his home was making him harder by the second.

“Lily,” he hummed her name, “Why are you here?”

“I just told you,” she mumbled, refusing to look up.

He took a step closer.
Her eyes snapped up so suddenly that he was certain she’d gotten a good look at the evidence of his need pressing against his trousers.

“I’m concerned about my students, about the Flathead and that man in jail,” she said, fast and hoarse.

“Is that why you’re really here?” he asked, watching the spark in her eyes as she stole another peek at his erection, “to express your concern?”

She twisted her hands in her mittens, sucking in a short breath as she worked her way around to an answer.
He should turn her around and kick her out right then, but the ache in his groin had other plans.

“Lily?”
He inched closer.

“No
, that’s not why I’m here.”

S
he turned away to pull off her mittens and hat, tossing them on the table by the door. She brushed away a black strand of hair that had caught in her eyelashes. Those simple gestures and the way she reached for her coat buttons sent his temperature soaring.

“Then why are you here?” he asked.
He stepped behind her to take her coat.

As she shrugged the heavy garment into his hands the smell of lavender and Lily filled the air.
He wanted to throw her things down and pull her into his arms, never let her go, but instead he walked her coat to the rack beside the front door and hung it.

“
We need to come up with a plan of action to counter whatever moves this soldier, Wilkins, makes. I—”

The moment he turned to face her, Lily
stopped talking. Their eyes met. The truth was painted there in her face, in her soul, the longing and the loneliness. Beyond that, she smoldered. She wanted him.

Neither of them was getting out of this night in one piece
.

“You?” he prompted
, his voice dropping to a timbre too deep for casual conversation.

“I’m
…worried.”

He
walked back to her, stopping so close he could feel the heat emanating from her. He brushed her chin and raised her face to look at him.

“You have nothing at all to be worried about, sweetheart.”

“I think I do.” Her voice cracked. She struggled to meet his eyes. “I can’t…. I want….”

This
vulnerability from her was new. It made her soft and appealing, completely kissable. It had every sinew in his body aching for her.

“What do you want?”
He reached out and brushed the loose hair away from her face, letting his fingertips linger on her cheek. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Her breath came in shallow gasps, pulling the fabric of her dress tight over the swell of her breasts.

At last she tilted her head up and met his eyes.

“You,” she whispered. “I want you.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

He had his arms around her before she could protest or flash back to the wildcat part of herself. He lifted her up to meet his kiss. The faint touch of winter lingered on her skin as he parted her lips with his. He closed his eyes and poured himself into that kiss, drawing her to him with the force of his desire for her. His arms closed more tightly around her, fingertips pressing into her back.

Whatever she was holding onto melted like snow in spring.
She returned his kiss with a sigh of abandonment, threading her fingers into his hair. Her mouth was eager on his, her tongue sweeping boldly against his. Her fire only fueled his own as he took everything he wanted from her, the sweetness of her kiss and the heat of her passion. He tasted her, sucked on her bottom lip, and still wasn’t satisfied. He moved a hand to cradle her breast, excited and frustrated by the stiffness of her corset and the promise of warm flesh beneath.

“I came here to make love to you,” she
confessed. Her words came out in a rush, and she gasped as soon as she heard them.

That sharp intake of breath coupled with the most tantalizing words he’d ever heard spread a grin across his face so wide that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to
frown again.

“Bedroom’s this way,” he answer
ed and swept her into his arms.

Chapter Fourteen

Lily’s breath came in gasps that were so short and shallow her head spun. Christian lifted her off her feet as if she weighed nothing and carried her across his small front room and through an open door into a cramped but serviceable bedroom. He set her on her feet at the side of a bed covered in a faded blue quilt. Without hesitation, he folded her in his arms and brought his mouth crashing over hers.

He hadn’t taken her declaration to be a joke.
He was as serious as could be as he kissed her, so deep she couldn’t catch her breath. He caressed her, hands exploring the lines of her sides and squeezing the mound of one breast with an urgency that made her writhe with impatience to be out of her clothes. The heat of his body pressed to hers with far more intimacy than she had ever experienced sent her heart racing. All it had taken was a simple declaration of purpose.

It was madness.
She ordered herself to stop, but it was useless. She circled her arms around Christian’s back, delving under the thick sweater he wore to feel the hard lines of his muscles beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. It didn’t matter that they weren’t married or that she had a reputation to uphold or even that it was a school night. The wanting won.

She tugged his shirt out of the waist of his pants, cursing the suspenders that blocked her from touching the heat of his skin.

“Here,” he whispered, breaking away from her long enough to yank his sweater up over his head.

He didn’t stop there.
He shrugged out of his suspenders and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and cuffs. She stood transfixed and breathless as he yanked his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor beside his sweater, as if he thought nothing of taking off his clothes in front of her.

The ripple of his broad, muscular chest as he completed the gesture sent a jolt of fire to her core.
A touch of dark hair spread across defined muscles. She followed the line it made down over a smooth, flat stomach to the waist of his pants sitting low on his hips. A distinct bulge stood out against the fabric, making her already unsteady legs watery with expectation.

She
was lost, dizzy with desire, balancing between raw need and panic. She was supposed to do something. This was a seduction, after all. Shaking with uncertainty, she reached for the fastening of his pants.

“Uh-uh.”
He stopped her hands, holding them at her sides and leaning in to her. He stole a deep kiss then said, “Not until I see you.”

To underscore his point he reached for the buttons at the top of her high collar.

“Yes, of course.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he sped through the row of tiny buttons on her bodice.
Each brush of his hands ignited ripples of pleasure along her skin. He followed the buttons all the way down to her waist, tugging her bodice out of her skirt then pushing it back over her shoulders to expose her corset.

The bodice caught at her wrists, trapping her hands
in bunches of fabric and cuffs that should have been unbuttoned first. She struggled to free herself, succeeding only in tangling her arms. Embarrassment poked holes in her passion. She bit her lip, shaking her arms harder and harder and cursing at her shirt.

Christian stopped her, hands clamping on her bare arms.
“Lily, what are you doing?”

“I’m stuck,” she panted, feeling small and confused and on fire with him standing so close, naked from the waist up.
She couldn’t look at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“
I know,” he said with a devilish grin. He slid his hands down her arms to hold her fettered hands behind her back.

She ventured a hesitant glance up at him.
The fire in his eyes was so deep she couldn’t breathe. Her chest strained against her corset.

“I think I like you this way.”

To prove his point he kissed her. The pressure of his mouth against hers consumed her. His arms were tight around her, holding her still. There was nothing she could do to embrace him in return or even push him away if she had wanted to.

She didn’t want to.
He pressed her close, lips moving from hers across the line of her jaw and down to her throat. She tipped her head back as his tongue licked over her raging pulse. The heat of his breath, of his body so entwined with hers, was heaven itself. Her sighs turned into a moan of such intensity that the sound sent shivers through her already ignited body.

Still he kissed her, lower and lower, until his lips planted the lightest of touches against the tops of her breasts as they strained to be free from her corset.
Too much of her was wound up, trapped, and aching to break free. He slid his hands from the small of her back up over her sides to the fastenings of her corset. One by one he unhooked the impossible row of clasps holding her in.

As soon as it was loose enough at the top, he pushed the edges aside, freeing her breasts.
Before she could take in a full breath, he closed his mouth over one hardened nipple through the fabric of her chemise.

“Christian,” she sighed his name, weak with pleasure.

He responded with a primal grunt, hands working swiftly over the remaining hooks of her corset. When he had undone as many as he could, he circled around her waist to unfasten her skirt. With a few deft movements her skirt came loose, sagging around her hips then dropping altogether as he untied her petticoat. Without pause, he returned to the hooks of her corset. As the last clasp snapped free, the restricting garment slumped over her drawers, held fast by her garters.

His hands
sought out the bare flesh of her stomach beneath her chemise. His touch felt so good that the dull ache between her legs flared to full, nearly painful want. She pulled at the fabric still tangling her wrists, wanting to embrace him, to touch him as he touched her. He smoothed his hands up her stomach until he cradled her breasts, filling his hands with her.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispered.
His eyelids were heavy with desire, hard, masculine want vibrant in his eyes.

She would have given anything, forsaken everything to have him touch her and fill her and stroke her the way she had only ever
dreamed of. The constricting fabric holding her hands was a merciless frustration when all she wanted to do was explore his body and all it had to offer. She moaned in protest, struggling and shaking she wanted him so desperately.

His teasing grin only added to her desperation.

“Are you still stuck?” he whispered, nibbling on her earlobe. His hands continued to squeeze and caress her breasts, thumbs flirting with her nipples.

“Yes,” she panted.
“Help me.”

“I’ll help you,” he promised, then danced his lips over hers.

His mouth claimed her once more, hot and searching. She was helpless to do anything but be devoured. He parted her lips, tongue sliding along hers until she couldn’t do anything but kiss him back. His hands trailed down across her stomach to the small of her back to pop the button of her drawers. In one quick movement, they dropped to her feet, the weight of her corset tugging down her stockings with them.

She shivered as his hands explored what they had exposed
, her own hands clenched in the tangled fabric of her shirt. He spread his palms over the curve of her hips, then slid down to cup her backside. All the while he continued to kiss her, light and distracted between ragged breaths. When he delved his hands between her legs, spreading the cleft of her buttocks as his fingers reached towards her aching heat, she gasped.

Her reaction encouraged him and he reached further.
The tips of his fingers pressed into the wetness between her legs. He hummed deep in his throat in appreciation.

“I knew you’d be wet for me,” he whispered.

He lifted her to the tips of her toes, hands tight between her legs, rubbing her against the bulge in his trousers. She could feel every inch of him, hard and strong, so close to the part of her that wanted him but far enough away to drive her to madness. She worked frantically at the fabric trapping her hands, close to weeping in her need to touch him. His fingers continued to inch closer and deeper to the fullness she craved.

At last her patience snapped.
She yanked with all she had, ripping the cuffs of her bodice enough to shake it off. The moment her hands were free she sighed in victory and circled her arms around his back, splaying her fingers across the taut muscles she found waiting for her. He growled in congratulations. His teasing kisses blossomed to full conquest. She reveled in it. She had waited too long for this sweetness not to savor every moment of it.

She was done with playing and so was he.
As she dug her fingertips into his back, he let go of her long enough to unbutton his pants and free the hard spear of his erection. She took only a moment to marvel at the sight of his thick, aroused masculinity, already shining with moisture near the tip. Whatever interest she had in looking at him was eclipsed by her need to feel him. She wanted him strong and deep inside of her as quickly as possible.

He broke away to shuck his pants.
Before he had tugged them off she sat and then lay back on his bed, pushing her stockings off. She didn’t care how irresponsible it made her, she wanted him as she’d never wanted anything before. The force of that desire was a wild longing inside of her that was tired of being suppressed. She spread her legs, shameless and wanton. When he kicked aside his pants and looked back at her, his gaze went straight to her opening, glistening with moisture.

“And here I thought schoolmarms were supposed to be prissy,” he murmured.

He climbed onto the bed and overtop of her, staff standing out with bold need. She reached out to him, closing her arms around his back as he fit himself between her legs. His weight, his heat, the stiffness of his manhood, everything felt so perfect that she moaned in wordless supplication.

He wasted no time answering her.
Without ceremony he positioned himself then plunged into her. She gasped at the sudden surge. He felt impossibly large inside her untested center, splitting her almost to the point of pain. But it was a sensation like nothing she’d ever felt before, so vibrant and real that she cried out with each thrust he made.

He took it slow at first, plundering her with long, controlled strokes as she dug her fingers into the flesh of his back.
Her body responded to his on instinct. She drew her knees up to hold his hips between hers as he moved. The completeness of it filled her with peace even as it drove her to heights of pleasure. He was so much bigger than her, so powerful in his movements, and still so gentle, so perfect.

He paused, still deep inside of her, and shifted so that he could look down into her eyes.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked. Behind his teasing was a hint of genuine concern.

“Yes,” she sighed, breathless, resting her hands on the sides of his face.
She stroked the line of his jaw, rubbed a thumb over his lips. “Oh, yes.”

He captured her thumb in his mouth, sucking it.
The simple gesture sent ripples of pleasure through her. She shifted, threading her fingers through his hair, and brought his mouth down over top of hers. He knew what she was after and gave freely, kissing her with a passion that enflamed instead of satisfying, with a rumbling groan deep in his throat.

His mouth left hers and trailed heat across her cheek to the top of her neck near her ear.
He braced his arms at her sides then began moving in her again. She gasped at the intensified energy of his thrusts. His body was demanding, setting a pace that was hard and deep and so good she cried out in response. All she could do was hold him, hands squeezing the flexing muscles of his back as he moved.

She felt herself rising to unexplored heights as his breathing became more ragged and vocal.
He did nothing to hide the intensity of what he was feeling, crying out with groans that were increasingly desperate. She loved it, loved every unfettered, honest sound he made. They told her just how much he was enjoying this primitive act of surrender.

When he
cried out as his body tensed above her then slowed in heavy relaxation, she knew he’d spilled his seed inside of her. The wonder of it bubbled laughter through her chest and she smiled. It felt too blissfully good not to.

It took Christian several long moments and deep, panting breaths to recover enough to roll to her side.
As nice as it was to breathe, she immediately missed the wholeness of being one with him. Against all logic, she rolled to her side with him, keeping her leg hitched over his hip, her thighs open to him. He settled a loose and heavy arm over her side, fingers tracing the lines of her back.

“Well,” he said, blinking to a hazy smile.
“That was something.”

Her core still ached with unspent need and his words, the sated intimacy of his tone, teased as much as his touch.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” she said, helpless to keep the smile off her face as her heart pounded.

“I did.”
He pressed into her, kissing her with lazy movements.