Outlaw (29 page)

"Easy," Mason whispered, ducking his head to
kiss her, "easy, it's all right."

His hands slid over her ribs, covered her
breasts, and even through her chemise she felt her nipples tighten
to meet his palms. "Ahhh, you feel so good, so good..."

He rubbed slow, sensuous circles over her
breasts, and the gentle abrasion of her chemise against her
overheated skin heightened every motion. Amelia writhed closer, let
her hands rove from his thighs upward. His stomach contracted when
she touched him there, and each feathery stroke of her fingertips
made him suck in his breath.

She
had that effect on Mason...maybe
even made him feel as good as he did her. The thought burst forth
in a surge of wholly feminine pride, then vanished beneath the
increasing urgency his hands on her breasts created. She wanted her
chemise gone, wanted to feel his chest bare on
hers...
wanted
.

With a growl of need he wrenched her chemise
to her waist, baring her completely, and she...wanted. He cupped
her breasts, lowered his head, and drew one taut peak into the
soft, wet warmth of his mouth, and she wanted...wanted
this
.
Wanted his mouth on her, wanted to bury her fingers in his hair and
hold him to her so he'd never stop.

His tongue licked velvety against her
nipple, then his mouth slid to her other breast, trailing warm,
sweet breath and ripples of delicate sensation. He sucked, and
Amelia half flew from the mattress, lost in the tug of his lips,
the drag of his tongue, the piercing need that arrowed from her
breast to her heels and everywhere in between. She moaned, and his
thumb stroked across her other nipple, drawing it to stiff
attention.

More, more than she'd imagined and yet they
still weren't close enough. She clutched Mason's head, gasping as
he loved her, aroused even by the gentle rasp of his shadowed beard
against her skin. Her breasts felt heavy, tingling...needing, and
he gave willingly, eagerly...expertly. She'd have given anything to
stay forever beneath his hands and mouth, and as his loving went
on, she knew what it meant to surrender completely.

Trembling, Amelia savored his mouth on her
breasts, his hands stroking long, curved pathways from her
shoulders to her ankles and leaving no part of her untouched. Mason
kissed her, holding her to him with one big hand splayed across the
back of her head, holding her captive for the mastery of his lips,
his tongue, his heated gaze. He saw her and loved her, and if she
hadn't heard the words from him, she knew in her heart that he felt
them.

He loved her.

She knew it and rejoiced in it, and the
knowledge freed her to return his kiss, to respond fully...to show
him how much she wanted him, too. Amelia clawed at her pantalets'
drawstring. Her fingers tangled, clumsy without her full attention
to their task. His next kiss turned them nerveless, and a moment
later the plucking softness of his hands at her breasts curled her
fingers into desperate fists.

Mason's hands covered hers, squeezed her
fists, and a satisfied sound rumbled from his throat. "Let me," he
murmured, drawing her clenched fists to rest alongside her
hips.

He held them there, pressing her wrists into
the timeworn quilts beneath them. His gaze roamed over her with an
intensity that made her want to squirm, to cover herself...to stop
the involuntary tightening of her nipples and the quickening of her
breath.

"Beautiful," he whispered, releasing her
wrists. His fingers trailed up her hip, across her belly toward the
drawstring.

Now—now he'd pull the narrow fabric strip
that hid her from him. Now he'd ease her pantalets away, let them
join his shirt on the floor beside the bed, look at her nakedness
with the hot appreciation the rest of her had already earned. Now
he'd touch her where she needed his loving most. The spiral inside
her wound tighter, throbbed more with each heartbeat. Anticipation
made her bite her lips as his hand neared the drawstring.

Chapter Nineteen

Mason made his hand move slowly, easing
toward Amy's waist. She felt small, warm, wonderfully curved
beneath him. Sweat beaded on his forehead, wrung from him by the
need to move faster, surer. The need to take her...now.

She panted and twisted below him, and he
slid one hand to her hip to hold her steady, afraid he'd
accidentally hurt her if she kept on so wild. Watching her, he
grasped the drawstring on her underclothes and pulled. She came up
off the bed along with it, shivering, arching toward him. Gently,
he eased her back down...and cupped her woman's mound in his
hand.

Sweet heat seared his palm; through her
clothes he felt her delicate curls prickle his skin. His shaft
throbbed in response, hurting him, stealing his breath and pulsing
against his too-tight pants. Mason ground his teeth, fought for
control. Damn, he'd been a fool to start this between them, when
all he wanted was to make love to her hard and fast and
forever.

His promise to Amy echoed in his ears,
underlaid by her throaty whimpers and urgent, breathless pleas. She
whispered his name and Mason bent his head to her breast.

"Mason, ohhh..."

She bucked beneath him, wild and trembling,
and her heart pounded beneath his cheek. He sucked harder, set his
teeth gently against her skin, nipped slow, faint circles over her
breast, and all the while Amy's warmth pulsed around him, lured
him.

God, he needed this. Needed her. So
good....

"It's all right," he whispered to her,
calming them both with the words. "Mmmmm, so sweet..."

His hand curved over her, covering her
completely through her underclothes, his fingers sweeping lower
into the heat between her thighs. Stroking upward again, Mason
coaxed her legs wider. She opened herself to him, gave herself to
him, and the enormity of her gift humbled him.

She trusted, loved, wanted him. No gift
could have meant more.

Steeling himself to go slowly, he went on
stroking her, urged forward by her hands on his arms, his back, his
belly, compelled by the bite of her nails against his skin. Her
lips touched his shoulder, then her teeth.

Amy's kisses, her delicate bites and
shuddering sighs, inflamed him. He trailed his tongue from her
nipple to the smooth roundness of her breast, moving lower, kissing
toward the alluring curve of her belly. She quivered, clutched him
harder. The moist musky scent of her feminine arousal rose from
between her thighs, tantalizing him more than any
perfume...tempting him as much as her softness did.

He had to feel her, love her...touch
her.

Her legs and belly tensed as Mason moved to
her waist and bunched her wadded-up chemise in his hands. Guiding
Amy upward, he slid the garment past her hips, down her legs to the
floor. She drifted back to the mattress, her lower lip caught
between her teeth, her eyes wide and beautiful beneath the
pillow-tangled mass of her hair. She reached for him, and her
welcome made his heart pound faster.

Caressing her breast, her hip, he lowered
himself until his chin nearly touched her stomach. She thrust her
fingers into his hair and whimpered as he drew his cheek across her
middle, then repeated the motion, coming ever closer to her
pantalets' drawstring and the secrets her clothes hid from him.
Catching the waistband in his teeth, Mason tugged hard, too savage
with need to tease either of them much longer.

Slowly, too slowly, Amy's underclothes eased
past the smooth curves and scented secrets of her hips and thighs.
Moaning, he clawed with both hands at her waistband, dragged it
lower, buried his face in the lush curls of her woman's mound. The
slick, perfumed moistness there drove him wild, made him gasp and
shake to possess her. Her curls tickled his jaw as he eased lower,
impatiently pushing her pantalets past her knees, past her ankles
to the floor.

"Ahhh," he murmured, caressing her luxuriant
hips in both hands, holding her tight against him. His heart felt
near bursting from his chest...his shaft ached and pulsed, heavy
with need. "Ahhh, Amy, I can't...can't wait. Oh, God, I-"

Convulsively his fingers tightened. Gasping,
he reared over her, slid the length of her body to capture her
mouth with his. She met him eagerly, moaning low in her throat as
their tongues met and mated with a ferocity he'd soon make their
bodies match. Closer and closer he held her, his mind ablaze with
the pleasure of feeling her next to him, of making her his, of the
knowledge that she wanted him, too.

Amy arched, opening her legs wide to receive
him. Her knees brushed his pants legs, rubbed against the fabric,
and suddenly Mason needed the rest of his clothes to be gone. He
grabbed at his pants buttons, clumsy with just one hand but needing
the other to hold her. Panting, he undid the first button. The
second. Amy kissed him, cried out for him, and Mason managed the
remaining buttons in a fevered rush.

He tore himself from her body, rose from the
bed wrenching open the waistband of his pants. She moaned, tossing
her head against the pillows, watching him through half-closed eyes
that glittered with desire.

"Mason, Mason..."

He wanted to swear, wanted to rip the
clothes from his body and feel her naked against him. His heavy
arousal demanded more caution. Carefully, quickly, he shed his
pants and drawers, leaving them to puddle beside the massive
bedstead along with everything else they'd worn. He looked up at
her...and the wonder in her expression rooted his feet to the
rug.

"Oh, Mason..." Easing upward in bed, Amy
reached her trembling hand toward him, her mouth a circle of
surprise and shyness.

Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes,
readying himself for the silken feel of her hand. He opened them
just as her fingers sheathed him, making him throb and surge high
against her palm. Need raked him, drawing shudders that swept from
heels to head as he fought not to shove her down on the bed, not to
take her then as he longed to do.

Tentatively, she stroked him, raising her
other hand to fondle him with an innocent joy that melted into his
heart even as it made him grind his teeth with torturous need.
Finally Mason wrapped his hand around hers, slowing her maddening
strokes and silencing her confused protest with a kiss, leaving
them both breathless. Cradling her, he lowered himself to the bed,
unable to stop touching her...touching her everywhere.

Quivering, Amy opened herself to him,
wrapped her arms around his waist...sighed as he came to her.
Nothing had ever felt so good, so right, as their bodies touching,
skin on skin. Mason held her tighter, closing his eyes. Slowly his
hand slid down the warmth of her side and hip, lower to the
softness between her legs. Slowly he stroked her there, felt her
tremble beneath him as his fingertips found every tender, private
place that had been hidden to him before.

Leisurely he caressed her, urged on by her
muted cries and the secret shuddering within her. He lay his head
on her shoulder and cradled her with his other hand, keeping her
close enough to feel every tremor that passed through her, every
quickening of her heartbeat, every panted cry.

"Mmmm...you feel so good." Mason slowed his
fingers' motions, savoring their glide over her slick, sensitive
flesh. Amy clutched his arm, grabbed fistfuls of bunched-up quilt,
arched higher against his hand, and every movement made need burn
hotter inside him.

"Mason, ohhh..."

"It's all right," he murmured, biting back a
moan as he gently slipped his finger within her softness, felt her
heat convulse around him. "It's all right, Amy...let it come."

Incoherent, velvety cries rose from her
throat. Wildly, she bucked against him, nearly sending him over the
edge as her hips thrust again and again...then stilled as her
fulfillment peaked, leaving her breathless. Gasping, she sank onto
the bed, pulling him down along with her, trembling anew with every
contact their bodies made.

Mason lay his head on the pillow just over
her shoulder and watched her, his arm across her chest holding her,
feeling her breasts rise and fall as her breathing gradually
slowed. Gently, he stroked her cheek, turned her face toward
him.

"Beautiful," he whispered, kissing her damp,
flushed cheek. Nothing in the world could have stopped the smile
that rose to his lips. "So beautiful."

Smiling too, Amy opened her eyes. Sleepy
satisfaction filled her gaze, turning her eyes a darker blue. Then,
slowly, her eyes widened, her gaze reflecting a growing dismay as
she realized all that had happened between them. Her hand clapped
over her mouth, stifling a gasp.

"Oh, my goodness!" The blush of her cheeks
spread lower, dappled her neck and bare bosom with mottled pink.
Frowning slightly, she craned her neck back into the pillow to peer
at him and stammered, "M—Mason, I—"

He quieted her, drew her hand away, kissing
each long, slender finger in turn. Amy squirmed and tossed her head
on the pillow beside him, her gaze traveling from the nubbly adobe
wall to the oil lamp to the shadows on the ceiling—anyplace but at
him.

She rolled all the way onto her back, her
other arm flung over her closed eyelids to hide her expression.
Propping himself on his elbow, still holding her hand, Mason looked
down at her. As though she sensed his attention, her blush swept
lower, drawing his gaze to her barely shimmying breasts and their
pink tips.

Smiling his pleasure at the sight,
anticipating the loving still to come, he moved over her, settled
himself on his haunches between her thighs. Oblivious, Amy kept on
talking, her voice quavering more than he liked to hear. Especially
when it was his woman talking.

His woman
.

"Oh, Mason, I'm sorry!" she cried,
half-heartedly trying to twist her fingers from his grasp. "I don't
know what came over me, but I—"