Rainbows and Rapture (25 page)

“And I was going to do this, too,” he informed her, opening his hand to cup and knead her gently. “Yes, it’s really unfortunate that you’re so impervious, Russia, because not only was I going to touch you like this, but I was going to do this, too.”

He wound the reins around the saddlehorn, then dropped his other hand to just below her knee, his fingers closing around her skirt. Leisurely, his motions tightly controlled, he slid his hand up her leg, drawing her dress up also. When he’d brought it up to her hip, he released the thin fabric and glided his hand beneath it.

Russia gasped when she felt the tips of his fingers burrowing into her panties. They were warm. She was warm. Hell, she was on
fire!
Without even realizing what she was doing, she leaned back, giving him better access to her.

“Yes,” Santiago murmured huskily, “this is what I was going to do. This, Russia. This.”

Her head lolled back when he began to caress the moist folds of her womanhood. His fingers were soft, his maleness was hard, and they were both touching her, tormenting her, pressing, pressing into her. She moaned endlessly.

Suppressing a deep chuckle, Santiago moved his other hand from her breast to her back. In no time, he’d undone every button on her dress, then proceeded to slip the bodice off her shoulders, baring her breasts. “I was going to do this, too, my impervious little dove,” he added rakishly.

His arm still around her back, he lifted her as if she weighed no more than a moonbeam, then bent to take her breast into his mouth, his tongue twirling around its stiff crown.

The pleasure Santiago’s attentions brought was like some kind of whirlwind spinning out of control within Russia. It filled her with the desperate longing to jump right into it and let it carry her to whatever paradise it would. Instinctively, she arched into his hand, shuddering with desire when she felt his fingers slip deeply inside her.

“It’s all just such a shame,” Santiago whispered, his lips moving upon her breast. “To think that I was going to do all of this to you, and you’d have remained impervious to it all. I’m glad I didn’t give in to the urge to do it. I’d have made a perfect fool of myself.”

Confident that he’d won her surrender, however unwilling it was, he lifted his head from her breast and removed his hand from beneath her skirt. Gently, he set her back down into the saddle and picked up the reins again, clucking to Quetzalcoatl as if nothing had happened.

Still afire with that sizzling yearning gone unfulfilled, Russia’s first impulse was to smack his smug grin right off his face. But she contained herself. To show any irritation with him right now would be to admit that she was about as impervious to him as a sun-baked desert traveler was to a shimmering oasis.

Fingers trembling, she smoothed her hair away from her face. “Well, now that you know how impervious I am, you perfect fool, lemme down.”

“Of course.” He stopped Quetzalcoatl and listened to the sounds of his surroundings. “Good place to spend the night. There’s a nearby stream. Perhaps you’d like a bath? It wouldn’t take you long to prepare for it, you know. You’re already half undressed.”

She glanced at her bare breasts, but restrained herself from covering them. Damn the man for acting as if nothing at all had just happened between them! Well, two could play at this little game, she decided suddenly, defiantly. Lifting her chin, she looked Santiago right in the eye.

He saw an impish gleam in her bright gaze and wondered what she was up to.

“Since I’m impervious to you,” she began, sliding her breasts against his chest, “I ain’t got no need to worry about nothin’, huh? And since I don’t reckon you want to be any more of a perfect fool’n you already are, I could git plumb nelly nekkid, and ain’t nothin’ a’tall gonna happen. Fer that matter,
you
could git bare-assed nekkid, too. We could touch each other all over, and ever’thing’d keep on bein’ impervious as all git-out, right?”

Her suggestion and the way she was teasing him with those lush white breasts of hers…
Santa Maria
, how the outrageous minx got to him! “No matter what, imperviousness rules the night.”

“Lemme git down now.”

Anxious to see what she had planned, he gently lowered her to the ground, then prepared to dismount himself.

But what she was doing stopped him. Unable to take his eyes off her, unable even to blink, he stayed glued to the saddle.

Smiling broadly and humming sourly, Russia squirmed out of her dress, shoes, and underthings. Her long red-gold hair her sole covering, she sashayed to her cart and removed a sliver of soap from her bag. “Wanna wash with me?”

Her question was a dare, and he knew it. Challenge radiated from her beautiful eyes like beams spreading outward from a glorious sunset.
Muy bien.
Fine. If it was a duel of desires she wanted, he was more than happy to accommodate her. With one fluid motion, he dismounted and stood before her, waiting to see what she would do next.

Russia sensed his arousal. Could see it. Could even smell it. As if it were a tangible thing, she felt it flow toward her, into her, becoming a part of her.

She knew at that moment that she wanted whatever this night would bring. The something wrong with her just didn’t seem to matter anymore. Just being in Santiago’s arms and feeling the rugged male splendor of him next to her would be enough for her. Anything at all he could give to her, that she could give to him… God, whatever happened would be enough.

Her hair brushing her thighs with each step she took, she walked toward the sound of the bubbling stream, her woman’s instincts assuring her that he would follow.

He did. “The water will be cold,” he warned, loving the way her honey hair swept over her ivory body.

“Then we’ll jist have to find some way to keep warm, won’t we?”

Her answer set him aflame. Would she let him make love to her tonight? he wondered. Would he be able to pleasure her tonight?

Santa Maria
, what a night tonight would be.

Arriving at the shallow stream, Russia dropped the soap to the edge of the water and waited for Santiago to join her. Her wait consisted of all of two seconds. “You ain’t bare-assed nekkid yet, Santiago. Y’ain’t thinkin’ about washin’ with your clothes on, are you?”

Rendered mute by his stabbing hunger for her, he shook his head.

“Then why ain’t y’takin’ ‘emoff?” she asked sweetly. “Maybe y’need help?” Without waiting for his reply, she reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, then spread her hands upon his hard brown chest. “I’m impervious to whatever feelin’s it’s possible to feel while touchin’ your chest like this, y’know,” she informed him, nearly giggling when she heard his sharp intake of breath. “I reckon you’re purty impervious to ‘em, too.”

Lord, the man had nice skin, she mused while pulling his shirttail from his tight black breeches. Soft, but hard underneath. She began to wonder who was going to win this game of imperviousness, then decided that even the loser would be a winner.

“Hold onto that tree branch while I take off your boots,” she instructed him. He obeyed, but as if the boots were nailed to his feet, it took her quite a while to tug them off. The last one gave her such a time, she began jerking at it with all the strength her slender body held, and squealed in surprise when it suddenly came off. She was knocked off-balance and felt herself falling.

He moved so fast, he was a blur as he caught her wrist before she tumbled to the ground. “You might be impervious to my touch,” he told her, his voice brimming with desire, “but I doubt you’re impervious to the pain caused by jagged rocks slicing into your bare and tender bottom. And, uh…
plumb nelly nekkid
as you are, that’s exactly what would have happened.”

His words, the feel of his big hand wrapped around her tiny wrist… She was astonished by the sense of security she felt. God, it felt so good. That someone cared about her well-being, that someone made the effort to protect her… It filled a lonely void inside her.

She moved closer to him. Peering up into his smoldering gaze, she knew in her heart that she would never forget Santiago Zamora. No matter the distance that separated them, no matter the years, she would remember him all her life.

Overwhelmed by tender feelings, and yearning to touch the man who’d created them, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his bare chest, thinking that his heartbeat was surely the most beautiful sound in the world.

Her embrace almost sent Santiago to his knees. In an effort to control his spinning emotions, he looked at the ground, but saw Russia’s hair instead. It flowed over his pistol.

Black-and-silver iron. Red-and-gold tresses. Hard. Soft. Dangerous. Gentle. Man. Woman. The sight made him think of contrast after contrast.

And it made him want her even more. “Russia.”

Every part of her responded to the way he said her name. She could think of nothing but holding him, being held by him, heartbeat to heartbeat, whisper to whisper…woman to man.

She stepped away, the need to please him the strongest thing she’d ever felt. Wetting her lips in anticipation of giving him everything she had to give, she undid the straps that kept his guns secured to his thighs, then unbuckled his gun belt and dagger sheath. Reverently, she held the weapons in her hands, marveling at the way they felt. How heavy they were. And how lustrously they gleamed in the pale silver moonlight. Gently, she laid them down on a small patch of grass that grew well away from the water.

Santiago swallowed tightly when she knelt and he felt her hands at the fastenings of his breeches. The few seconds it took her to undo them and roll the pants down his legs seemed like several eternities. Desire pumped fire through his veins, and it took every shred of his willpower to keep from taking command of the encounter.

But when he felt her press her lips into the thick mat of hair between his thighs and brush him with kisses, he could contain his emotions no longer. Groaning with fierce need, he took her by the waist and lifted her high off the ground.

Her hair cascaded all around him, cloaking him with warm, melted gold. “Russia,” he murmured, looking up into her softly shining eyes. “God, Russia.”

Lowering her into his arms, cuddling her next to his chest, he took her into the water. Without loosening his tight hold on her, he sank to his knees and reached for the sliver of soap.

“You were right,” she whispered to him, sliding her fingers through his long black hair. “It’s cold. Colder’n a cast-iron outhouse on the shady side o’ a iceberg.”

He smiled. “Aren’t you exaggerating just a bit?”

She shook her head. “Warm me up, Santiago. Yeah, make me warm, real, real warm.”

He planned to do more than make her warm. He wanted to catch her on fire. Pressing the soap against her shoulder, he began to wash her.

She caught his hand and removed the soap from it. After breaking it in half, she gave his piece back to him. “You wash me, and I’ll wash you,” she explained. “We’ll do it together.”

They started with their hair, each relishing the softness of the other’s. Then flesh. Every inch of flesh they could find on each other. No hidden crevice, no tiny part of their bodies went unfound, unattended. Water, soap, hands, and moonlight covering them, they explored each other hungrily, with endless fascination and boundless patience, searching for and discovering every physical thing that made them who they were.

And when at last their quest was over, when at last no part of them remained overlooked, they both knew what the outcome of the night would be.

“Russia,” Santiago murmured, his body hard with desire, “I want you.”

Her slow smile echoed his words.

Though sheltered in his arms, Russia shivered when he carried her out of the water. “Santiago, let’s build a fire,” she suggested as he arrived at her cart. “A really big one.”

His gaze moved to the distance, in the direction of Rosario, where Wirt Avery was. “No fire tonight,
paloma
.”

“But—”

His kiss silenced her protest. It was a wild and hungry kiss, untempered by even a hint of gentleness. Raw with need it was, and savage enough to seek, find, and claim exactly what he wanted from her.

She gloried in it. She felt possessed, taken wholly into him. Passion shot through her like firebolts bursting in the sky.

“Tonight,” Santiago began, his lips still clinging to hers, his voice dark and fluid with sexiness, “Russia… Tonight I’m going to make love to you. Not once but twice, and then again, and once more. Tonight.
Santa Maria
, now, right now.”

Sensing his desperation and seeing it reflected in the depths of his eyes, Russia wondered if he was even aware that their bed would be hard dirt, pebbles, and cactus. Quickly, she slipped out of his arms. To her delight, he helped her lay the blankets on the ground, his sultry gaze never leaving her.

Taking her into his arms again, Santiago lowered her to the place where he would love her. Kneeling beside her, he bent to kiss her, but the tight expression on her face stopped him. He smiled. “Russia, you’re trying too hard, and we haven’t even started yet. Relax.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do first, and then I’ll be able to relax. Y’see, if I know ahead o’ time, I’ll be able to git ready fer it. Or better yet, why don’t I do
you
first? Yeah, I could do you, and then—”

“Do me?” He let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Russia, we’re not
doing
each other. That sounds terrible.”

She bit her lip, remembering all the men who’d ordered her to “do” them. She’d thought that was the correct expression.

Santiago’s gentle reproach told her it wasn’t She felt uncertain. The only sexual experience she had to draw on was that for which men rewarded her with money. Santiago hadn’t hired her. This…what she was about to do with him wasn’t a paid performance.

He sensed her nervousness. “You’re afraid again, aren’t you, Russia? I’m not going to hurt you,
paloma
.”