Last of the Red-Hot Riders (13 page)

Yeah, maybe he didn't need any defense mechanisms.

He jumped up off the sofa and strode to the door, throwing it open.

She turned, already down to the pink, scalloped lace covering her breasts, a tiny pink string holding up a slight V of lace between her legs.

Whatever protest he had left in him flew right out the window. He wasn't going to win any prizes for self-denial. Despite his trophy case full of buckles and other memorabilia, he didn't have anything like Cameron in his life. Nothing else gave him the rush she did. This woman, this gorgeous body—
she
was the prize, the gold buckle. He pulled in a deep breath, giving her time to be certain.

“Last chance to back out, beautiful.”

“I'm not much for backing out. Not a quitting kind of girl, if you haven't noticed.”

Oh, he'd noticed. And thank God she wasn't, because he had an erection so hard it was only going to go away if he took her.

Cameron noticed the change in Saint's eyes, the desire tensing his face, his body. She was doing her best to be some kind of confident sex goddess, but never in her life had she ever been a sex goddess, or even close to it, so right now she was pushing the envelope with everything she had. She wanted Saint, but she wanted him to want her, too—as much as she wanted him. “I want you, Saint. I'm hoping you want me, too.” She desperately hoped so. She'd waited a long time to give herself to a man—she wanted her first time to be with
him.

“Come here,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her into his arms. Heat exploded inside her body, breaths coming fast and shallow in her throat. It seemed like he was taking a long time to make up his mind, but then he lowered his mouth to hers, and she practically moaned from the desire that warmed her.

“I've waited a long time for this,” Saint murmured, and Cameron leaned back in his arms to look into his eyes.

“Why did you wait?”

“I'm not sure I deserve you. Deserve
this.
” He kissed down her neck to her breasts, removed her bra, groaning hungrily at what was revealed. He took a nipple into his mouth, stroking the other with his thumb. Cameron arched, aching need hitting her fast and hard. She wasn't a
total
innocent with men, but nothing had ever felt like this. Never had she felt what she did for Saint, she realized. Saint came back to her mouth, sweeping inside hers. He framed her face with his hands, holding her close like she was something delicate and treasured. “Kiss me, Saint. Hard. I won't break.”

“I intend to kiss you, all over, babe.” He teased her with a soft kiss, drawing away when she whimpered with urgency. He gently lay her on the bed, leaving her in a puddle of need. Gazing down at her, he pulled his black T-shirt over his head. She stared at the muscles and broad, flat planes of his chest, fascinated, dying to stroke his skin. He undid his belt and tugged off his jeans, revealing black briefs that clung to his thighs and clung to something else that had all her attention now.
Holy crap.

Her gaze flew up to meet his. He seemed to know she'd suddenly been hit by a little insecurity, because he got in bed beside her, taking her face in his hands again, and slowly, deliberately stroking her tongue, her lips, her mouth with his. Igniting her all over again, wiping out the fear. She felt the heat again, felt hot wetness blooming as her body ached for his. He never stopped the mesmerizing exploration of her mouth, kissing her breathless, giving her time. She ran a hand along his broad chest, and then over his tight shoulders. She found a scar just over the ridge of muscle in his shoulder, stroked it. Wanted to tell him how grateful she was that they were together right now, that he'd made it home from war alive. That she'd never known a man like him, nor wanted a man the way she wanted him.

Cameron sucked in a breath when Saint's mouth closed over her breast, teasing the nipple with his tongue, then lightly pinched the other nipple so that it hardened, and tasted that one, too. Cameron closed her eyes tightly for a moment, then stroked her hands over his firm, rounded buttocks, pulling him toward her.

Was met by a length of steel hardness that left her with no doubt of how much he wanted her. He went absolutely still, and she didn't want that, so she curled a hand around his erection, moaning as she felt him jerk a little, grow harder, at her touch.

“Cameron—”

“Kiss me again,” she said. “
Please.
Don't stop kissing me.”

“I'm going to kiss you all night.” His voice sounded very thick, very strained. “But you're going to have to let go for a minute.”

“Let go of this?” she asked, giving his erection a slight tug. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, for the love of God, let
go.
”

“Right now?” She laughed softly, enjoying having the upper hand just for a moment. “It feels like you like me holding you, Saint.” She stroked him, enjoying the way his body tightened up. She gasped when he pinned her to the bed and stared down at her.

“Cameron,” he said, and it sounded like he was gritting his teeth, “if you don't, you're going to be a very disappointed woman for about twenty minutes.”

Gently, she released him. He drew in a deep, ragged breath, then surprised her when he kissed her mouth hard, urgently. She met him kiss for kiss, eager for his every touch, every caress. His hands roamed over her body, cupping her butt cheeks, stroking a breast—and then suddenly, he slid down one of the pink straps holding up her panties so he could cup her completely bare skin to him. She held tight to his shoulders as he kissed her deeply, stopped in surprise when she felt him stroke a finger along the slit of her sex. He groaned again, that feral groan she loved to hear, and shoved the pink panties off her so hard she felt the strap give. She arched against him, getting as close as she could to him, but his finger simply kept up a maddening, delicious dance, sliding back and forth along her wetness. She tried not to inhale him, crawl into him, but it was almost impossible—she wanted him so much all she could do was hold on. “Don't stop,” she whispered, and he said, “Not until you scream my name, babe.”

He slid his finger gently inside her, and sensations she'd never felt swept her so hard she gasped against his shoulder. “Oh, God,” she moaned, “Saint!”

He moved down low on her, palming her buttocks in his hands, bringing her close to his face. He kissed her stomach all over, kissed her mound, then licked the tip of her clitoris, shocking her into a tiny scream and making her hips jump, which he took full advantage of, sliding his tongue inside her.

Colors burst behind her eyes. She hung on helplessly, his gentle strokes leaving no part of her sex unexplored, unloved. When his lips closed gently around her bud, her body tightened up
uncontrollably,
and she exploded, crying out his name as he drank her in, turning her to mush in his arms.

When she couldn't stand the pleasure another second, Saint seemed to know, setting her carefully on the bed, bringing her gently back to earth for only a moment, as he put on a condom. She tried to help him to get him back to her as fast as possible, drawing a groan from him. He spread her legs, and ever so carefully, ever so deliberately, slid all the way inside her, inch by glorious inch. It hurt, but not as much as it would have if he hadn't wanted to make love to her. Cameron gasped first at the pressure, then as he filled her.

He seemed to know that fast, hard movement wouldn't be comfortable for her. He gave her time, allowing her to adjust to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She kissed his neck, licking the skin there, then nipping it lightly. “Don't stop.”

He moved slowly. “You're really tight,” he said, a deep groan escaping him.

She wrapped her hands over his shoulders, smoothed down the skin to his butt, pulling him into her. Clearly he was worried he was hurting her. “Don't stop,” she said again, gasping at the pleasure beginning to override the pain and all her senses.

“I couldn't if the roof fell in on me.”

He moved inside her, stroking faster, and when she wrapped her legs around him, drawing him farther in, so close it felt like they were one, he groaned and hesitated for just a second.

She tightened around him, and when he groaned her name, she sensed a passion roaring up in him he wasn't going to be able to stop this time. She didn't want him to hold back his pleasure. Clasping him hard, she felt his every thrust bringing her closer to heaven, too.

And then something carried her up and over on a tide of amazing pleasure, drawing a cry from her that further inflamed him.

“Oh, God, Cameron,” he said, “I can't hold on any longer.”

He rode her hard, pinning her to the bed, kissing her as he thrust. He cried out suddenly, his hard muscles bunching and tensing all over his body, moving faster even as she held him tighter. When he collapsed against her, gasping her name, Cameron thought she'd never been closer to anyone in her life. It was the most magical experience.

She would treasure it forever.

Cameron was gone when he awakened, a strange emptiness signaling he'd rather have found the gorgeous redhead tucked up against him. He'd slept hard and peacefully for the first time in ages, and it was all due to her having soothed something in his soul. Which wasn't entirely something he needed to get used to.

Saint glared blearily at the clock on his bedside table, amazed that it was six o'clock in the morning. Holy hell, the guys were going to wonder where he was.

They were going to give him the ribbing of his life.

He almost didn't care. Last night had been worth the agony of waiting, the agony of not knowing whether he would ever have Cameron—and if he should—and any agony his friends heaped on him.

Today, he was king of the world. Or at least Hell.

Showering fast and mixing up his standard instant coffee, he jumped in his truck and drove to the training center.

“Where the hell have you been, sleepyhead?” Declan demanded, coming out from the barn to give him jazz.

“I must have been tired.” Saint tied a bandanna around his head to keep sweat from rolling into his eyes, stuck his Resistol on over it. Wet another bandanna, wrapped it around his neck.

“Funny thing, Cameron looked fresh as a daisy this morning.”

He glanced at Declan, alert to the beginning of the razzing. There was nothing on Declan's face to hint that he was doing anything more than just relaying basic information.

“I'm heading out to school a couple of horses.” The sun was beating down hard already, and it wasn't going to get any cooler by noon. It was so hot dust devils swirled up occasionally on the dry, oven-baked gusts.

“Cameron left with Harper. Said they were heading out to the Honky-tonk to discuss the kissing booth setup with Ivy.”

Saint stopped. Turned to face Declan. “What time?”

“Thirty minutes ago. Ivy sleeps late, because she keeps late nights.”

Why was his heart hammering? It shouldn't have been. He didn't own Cameron; she was a big girl, and could do what she liked.

Ivy wouldn't do anything to her. Why was he feeling like he might be about to stroke out? What had Rory told him? That he had to get his shit together, basically, or he was going to freak Cameron out. She was an independent woman. Saint shrugged. “I don't really need an update to her schedule every time she moves. As long as she makes it to practice on time, that's all I care about.”

Declan followed him into the ring, his straw cowboy hat pushed back on his forehead. “I don't like it.”

“Don't like what?”

“This new, airy-fairy, relaxed attitude of yours. What the hell is going on with you?”

Saint raised a brow. “Nothing. I'm the same guy I was yesterday.”

Only he wasn't. Something had changed last night. The earth had moved, the sky had lit up, whatever corny bullshit you wanted to pin on it, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his life had changed the second Cameron let him inside her beautiful, sexy body. And he wasn't ever going to be the same.

“Listen, Easygoing Ed, we probably ought to head out there.”

“Can't imagine why.” He looked for the horses that had been turned out, thinking it was going to be too hot in a few hours to school them if he didn't get on the stick.

“Because it's the Honky-tonk! And Cameron just had her tires stolen.” Declan looked like Saint had lost his mind.

“So did Ivy. Why does that mean Cameron and Harper can't go see Ivy to plan the parade? She's not going to do anything to them.”

“Because we're their sidekicks. I've been waiting on you to finally drag your lazy hide into work so that we can go make sure nothing happens!”

“Look. I am no one's sidekick, least of all Cameron's. If you're worried, you go out there. I'm going to do my job. Or if you're too chicken to go by yourself, ask Frick and Frack to swing by.”

Declan gave him a hard stare, wandered off muttering to himself about women who had no fear and friends who couldn't see the forest for the trees. Saint went to hunt his favorite horse up, calling to a midnight-black stallion. “Hello, Zeus, you magnificent badass. Let's see if you and I can get along today.”

Zeus looked at him, turned his head away in magnificent dismissal. His ears twitched as he watched Saint out of the corner of one big, brown eye. He sensed Saint had come for him, and he wasn't eager to be taken out of the pasture.

But Saint had experience with waiting things out, and today, even Zeus the hard-ass couldn't spoil his good mood. Even if he
was
worried about Cameron venturing into dark waters without him.

As Rory had said, he was going to have to toughen up. Which was a pretty funny thing to say to a SEAL. He'd been widely respected for not being a strap-hanging candy-ass.

When it came to Cameron, he was going to have to be as patient as he was with this damn beast. Zeus turned his back, pretended not to notice him.