Montana Mavericks Weddings (15 page)

Sierra searched her heart, but couldn't find any anger. “I wouldn't have expected less of you,” she said. “You're wrong, Dylan. Rory might not be your biological son, but you are his father.”

“I know. I couldn't let him go. I was prepared to use all kinds of threats to keep him when Claire wanted out, but in the end, she didn't fight me.”

He leaned forward and stretched his arm across the table. Palm up, long fingers pointing toward her, he invited her to touch him. She hesitated, not sure what was happening between them. But she'd never been able to resist him. She placed her hand on his. When he squeezed gently, she returned the pressure.

“I committed two sins in my marriage,” he said. “The first was writing you as long as I did. I kept hoping you would write back and demand that I leave her. I would have…for you. Even though it was wrong. My second was always loving you. I was the best husband I could be to Claire, but I never loved her and in the end, that's what drove her away.”

Sierra drew in a deep breath. “After how she manipulated you, I can't say I'm sorry.”

“I am. About a lot of things. Mostly the time we've lost.” His gaze was steady. “Sierra, I came back here for you. If you'd been married, I wouldn't have approached you or even bought this ranch. But when I found out you weren't, I let myself hope that we could give this another try. I meant what I said. I still love you. There's never been anyone else in my heart. Was I wrong to come back?”

She didn't know how to answer him. There were still too many questions. Fear lurked in the shadows
of her soul. Would Dylan betray her again? Did she dare trust him? Did she dare not?

In the end, she couldn't find the words, so she stopped looking for them. She rose to her feet and walked around the table. He rose to meet her and pulled her into his embrace. As his mouth claimed hers, she knew she'd made the right choice. Dylan's arms had always been home.

S
he was all he remembered, all he'd dreamed about, and more. No fantasy from the past could compare with the perfect joy of holding Sierra in his arms, feeling her mouth against his as they kissed.

Dylan wrapped his arms around her and held on tightly. He was willing to admit that a part of him was afraid this was just a dream. That he would soon wake up and find himself alone in his bed. Yet even as he told himself this time it was safe to believe, she parted her lips. The silent invitation was more than he could resist. He reached forward and touched his tongue to hers.

Her sweet taste made him moan low in his throat. Electricity shot through him with all the subtlety of a lightning bolt. She leaned closer so they touched from shoulder to thigh. He could feel the soft pres
sure of her breasts against his chest and the firm hold of her fingers as she clung to him. He was too hard, too ready, for this to be a dream.

He angled his head and continued to rediscover her mouth. The familiar shapes and textures, the heat, the need that drove him. He moved his hands up and down her back, feeling her strength. Her job required her to be physically strong and she had lean muscles under soft skin. Just like he remembered. Just like it should be. She was different from Claire's sharp angles and nearly visible bones. Flesh moved in response to his touch. She had shape and substance.

“Just like I remember,” he murmured, pulling back long enough to trail kisses along her jaw to her neck. She arched into the caress. He stopped at the sensitive skin right below her ear and licked the sweet spot. She groaned low in response.

“Dylan.”

His name was a prayer. He heard the reverence, felt it himself. “I was afraid,” he confessed, pulling her tightly against him and burying his face in her hair. “So damned afraid the past would always stand between us. If you knew how much I've wanted you, loved you. You are everything to me, Sierra.”

She pushed back a little and studied his face. He wasn't sure what she was looking for but he knew he was completely exposed to her. Everything he was
thinking and feeling would show. He had no defenses left—he wanted her too much to pretend.

He wasn't sure what she saw, but after a minute, she nodded, then cupped his jaw and brought him closer. She brushed her mouth against his, her lips moist and warm. They clung to him, then she swept her tongue across the seam and he parted for her.

This time she was the aggressor. She invaded and discovered. He met her touch for touch, savoring the flickering fire raging between them. His blood swirled hot. The scent of her intoxicated him. He dropped his hands to her waist, then lower to her rear and hauled her hips against him. Her belly pressed against his arousal. He rocked her back and forth, creating a decadent friction that tempted his self-control.

She broke the kiss and gasped for air. “I want you,” she said.

Her words were fuel for the need that raged between them. “Yes,” he growled. “I want you, too. In my bed, naked, under me. I want to be inside of you.”

Her lids half lowered over smoky, hazel eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Gee, Dylan, stop hinting and come out and tell me what you really want.”

He took her hand and tugged her toward the hallway. “I really want you.”

They had to stop halfway up the stairs so he could
hold her. He paused with her a step behind him, and gathered her close. She pressed her face into his chest and he felt the heat of her breath and the dampness of her mouth against his bare skin. His body tensed in response.

“I can't believe what you're doing to me,” he murmured.

She laughed softly. “I know what you mean. I'm half expecting to find out this isn't really happening.”

He touched a finger to her chin, urging her to look up at him. She was so beautiful. “It's real,” he said. “We're finally together.” Silently they continued up the stairs.

His bedroom was at the far end of the hallway. It had originally been two rooms, but the previous owners had torn down the dividing walls to create a huge master suite. Dylan hadn't had time to do much in the way of decorating. A large king-size four-poster brass bed stood against the wall. There were several windows and an open door leading into the master bath. The sheets and blankets were a tangle at the foot of the bed.

“I wasn't expecting company,” he said.

“Good. Then we shouldn't be interrupted.”

He stopped by the foot of the bed and turned toward her. She flowed into his embrace, her body leaning into his, her hands tracing a path from his elbows up his arms to his shoulders and back. They
kissed, softly at first, barely touching, then deeper, with mouths open and tongues entwined.

He reached for the first button of her shirt and unfastened it. She took a half step back to give him room. Her hands dropped to her sides and she gazed at him, her eyes filled with trust and desire. It was a heady combination.

He unfastened the second button, then struggled for a moment with the third. “I feel like I'm seventeen again,” he said. “My hands are trembling.”

“I'm glad.” She tossed her head and her long, loose hair flew over her shoulder. “I want you to tremble like you did back then. I want everything to be the same.”

He pulled her shirt free of her jeans and pushed it over her shoulders. The garment fluttered to the floor. She wore a plain white cotton bra. Full curves spilled over the top. He bent down and kissed the swell of her right breast.

“It can't be the same,” he told her, inhaling the arousing sweet fragrance of her skin. “But it can be better.”

“Oh, Dylan.” She clutched his head and buried her fingers in his hair. “If you knew how many times I've longed for this, for you. I wanted to forget, to hate you, but I never could. Not for long. You're a part of me. I just wish…” Her voice trailed off.

He looked at her. Unshed tears made her eyes glit
ter. “What, lover?” he asked and touched his mouth to her cheek, then her eyelids. “What's wrong?”

“I'm so afraid,” she whispered. “I want this to be real and I'm afraid that it isn't. I don't want to care about you again. I don't want you to hurt me and leave me. I don't think I would survive that.”

“I won't do either,” he promised. “I just want the chance to love you.”

She nodded once, briefly, but he wasn't sure she believed him. Perhaps there were no words with which to convince her. Perhaps he would have to show her how he felt.

He wrapped one arm around her and pulled her close. While his other hand reached for the fastener of her jeans, he brushed her mouth with his. She yielded to him instantly, parting, drawing him in, sucking gently in a way designed to drive him wild. It worked, too.

After he unzipped her jeans, he released her and bent to help her remove her boots and socks. Next, he tugged off her jeans. Her panties were as sensible and plain as her bra. He loved her for that. Sierra wouldn't think to buy satin and lace unless he asked her. Then she would blush and protest the expense, but ultimately, she would agree. His arousal flexed as he thought about seeing her in black lace and nothing else, then he shuddered at the even more erotic thought of seeing her naked.

He urged her up on the bed. She stretched out
on the rumpled sheets and he sat next to her. Her hair fanned over the pillows. He stroked her cheek. “You're so beautiful.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean it. I could drown in your eyes.”

“And leave me unsatisfied?”

Her teasing made him smile. He lowered himself next to her and gathered her close. Fierce emotion filled him. He wanted to get lost inside of her and never find his way back. “I've missed you,” he told her. “Every day. With every breath.”

Her answer was a kiss. He teased her lips with his tongue while his hands made quick work of her bra. When her full breasts were free and bare to him, he moved his fingers around the generous curves, rediscovering magical country. Her nipples were already taut. He brushed his thumbs against the tight peaks. Her hips surged against him, bringing her feminine heat in contact with his desire. He arched into the caress, wishing away the layers of clothing.

Moving slowly, beginning the ritual of their ancient dance, he slipped between her thighs. He lowered his mouth from her lips to her neck, then lower still until he had trailed a damp path to the valley between her breasts.

Sierra kept having to remind herself to breathe. Dylan's touch was more exciting and intoxicating than she remembered. Her skin was hyperaware of every brush of his fingers or tongue. As he drew
closer to her aching nipples, she raised her shoulder slightly off the bed, urging him on, silently begging him to take her in his mouth.

At last he did, closing his lips over her, tasting, sucking gently. Each tiny pull coiled down inside her, rippling through her belly and exploding in her sweet spot. She curled her fingers into the mattress, clutching the sheets. Her hips rose and she found herself pressing against the bulge in his trousers.

The temptation was too great. She moved up and down, rubbing herself against him. They both groaned low. It had been like this ten years ago. Undeniable passion that rapidly burned out of control. Trace memories combined with current reality to give their lovemaking a sense of inevitability. Even if she wanted to, she could deny Dylan nothing.

He cupped her breasts, pushing them close together and dividing his attention between them. As the pressure built, she moved her hips faster.

“I want you,” he said, raising his head and looking at her face. “I want you.”

The words had too much power. She began to tremble uncontrollably. He seemed to understand because instead of returning his attention to her breasts, he moved his hands all over her body. He stroked her belly, her thighs, her hands, her arms. His fingers stilled as he felt the still-healing scar from her run-in with the steer when she'd rescued Rory.

He stretched to the side and traced the red line. “You're still bruised,” he said.

“For a couple more weeks. It was a hard kick.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.”

“I'm sorry because you got hurt. But I'm grateful you were there.” He touched his mouth to the tender spot and his sweetness healed her battered soul.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He straightened. With one long, easy movement, he stripped her of her panties, then settled back in place. Once again he kissed her breasts, finding the sensitive tips and teasing them with gentle nips. Then he moved lower. Down her chest to her belly, then lower still, to the apex of her thighs.

He urged her to part for him. He cupped her rear with his hands and bent his head to taste her.

Sierra had enough warning to remind herself it was going to be like an explosion. Even so she gasped as the bolts of pleasure shot through her. She arched into him, instantly breathless and close. So very close.

He was perfection itself. A slow, steady, relentless assault on her senses. His tongue found and teased her sweet spot, circling it, stroking it, moving a little faster as her breathing increased. It was as if he could feel what she was feeling. As if he were somehow linked to her body.

When her release came, it was unexpected and life
changing. Suddenly she was on the edge of the cliff and, with no warning, she began to fall. A thousand pleasure-points convulsed in satisfaction. Her body trembled, she called out his name. And in the end, he caught her in his arms and held her close.

It took several minutes for her body to return to normal. Dylan stroked her hair and murmured softly. Words of comfort and love. She finally opened her eyes and looked at him. “You're right,” she said at last. “It is better than I remember.”

He grinned. “I'm glad.”

She thought about how quickly she'd climaxed. “And quicker.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I hadn't noticed.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, I noticed. I chose to think it's because we're so good together.”

She touched his cheek. “I know that's it.” They'd always been able to please each other. “I'm glad we didn't lose that.”

“Me, too.”

Something hard flexed against her hip. She reached down and ran her hand along the impressive length of his desire. “I wasn't aware we were dressing for the occasion.”

“I could change that if you'd like.”

“I would like. Very much.”

He sat up and unfastened his jeans, then tossed them aside. As he reached toward the nightstand
drawer, she shifted so he knelt between her legs, and drank in the sight of him. Time had been kind, honing a young man's body into mature strength. She ran her hands along his rock-hard thighs, then up his chest. He quickly opened and used the protection.

Her throat tightened. He hadn't even bothered to ask or try to talk her out of it. “Always the gentleman,” she said, again fighting tears.

“You are precious to me,” he told her. “I want to protect you.”

“Thank you.”

She felt him press against her feminine place. Suddenly the ache inside returned and she desperately needed to feel him there, filling her, joining with her. She pushed toward him, enveloping him in her heat. He groaned once, low and deep, then set his teeth.

“This isn't going to take long.”

“Then we'll be even.”

His dark gaze met hers. Passion dilated his pupils and pulled his face taut. “I love you,” he said.

The words combined with his maleness filling her were more than she could stand. “I love you, too,” she said, at last confessing the truth she'd kept hidden all these years.

He thrust into her, going deeper, taking them back to the edge of the cliff, then forcing her off with him. It was a moment of perfect joining and for the first time since Dylan had left her, Sierra truly felt that she belonged.