Rawhide and Lace (20 page)

"You'll need a jacket. It's cold out today."

She followed him into the hall, forcing herself to take slow, easy steps and not to limp. She was proud of her progress, and it showed in the radiance of her elfin face, her big green eyes. She laughed as he held out a denim jacket to her. It was broad and long-sleeved and had to be one of his.

"That will swallow me," she protested.

"You don't seem to have a winter coat," he replied, hesitating uncharacteristically. "I couldn't find one in the closet a few days ago."

She smiled at him. "I used to have a full-length mink. I sold it, after the...after I...Oh, Ty, don't," she said, the smile fading at the look in his eyes. "Please don't. You said yourself that it was in the past, and it was. We can't go back."

"I wish we could," he said fervently. "I'd give anything to change it."

"Here," she said as she handed him the coat. "Put this enormous thing on for me, and I'll try not to trip over the hem."

He actually laughed, although it was quick and faint. "All right. Put your arms in."

It was cold outside, and a little misty, and the sky was as gray as Ty's eyes. He took her arm, propelling her toward the large, modern barn.

All his hands had the day off, and most of them were away from the ranch with near and distant kin, celebrating Christmas. Erin followed Ty into the cool interior and waited until he closed the door. Then she followed him down the long, neat corridor that separated rows of clean, straw-filled stalls, only a few of which were occupied.

"Don't you have many horses?" she asked curiously.

"We," he corrected "have quite a few. But we only bring the expectant mamas in here."

"Because of the cold?"

"That's it." He stopped at the next stall and turned her to the right. "There he is. Born last night."

He was an Arabian. Pure black, with the small head that denoted a purebred stallion, and so tiny. He walked on spindly legs that seemed too tiny to support him, and his proud mama licked and nuzzled him. As she watched, Erin marveled at the ability of an animal to show such tenderness.

"Most mares make good mothers," he said, smiling at the little one. "You won't know him in about a month, when he's got the freedom of the paddock and can toss his head and gallop. He'll be a different colt then."

She leaned back against the side of the stall, searching his dark face. "You love your animals, don't you?" she asked.

"It's easy to love animals," he replied, pinning her with his eyes. "They can't hurt you, except maybe physically if you abuse them or pen them in a corner."

"And people can."

"I learned that as a boy," he told her. "Anything different gets attacked, haven't you figured that out by now?"

"Were you so different?" she asked.

"Big feet, big ears, a face only a mother could have loved, and a black temper," he replied. "You tell me."

"I did notice the black temper," she murmured.

"When?" He laughed coldly. "You haven't come near me lately."

"How could I, when you've avoided me?" she replied, her eyes kindling. "You've done everything except ask me to leave."

"I can't do that," he said. "You're half owner. And my wife."

"In name only."

"Not since that day in San Antonio," he replied curtly, and the memory was in his eyes, like a fire burning.

"That's right," she agreed, deliberately misunderstanding him. "Not since. Not once." She let the denim jacket slide down her arms, oblivious to the shock in his eyes. Her hands went to the bodice of her dress and began to unfasten the buttons.

"What in hell are you doing?" he demanded. But his eyes were watching her hands, not her face.

"I've gained weight," she said. "I thought you might like to see for yourself."

Without questioning her own motives, her own hunger, she opened the last button and slowly peeled the dress down her arms. The material was medium-weight, so she hadn't bothered with a bra. Her breasts were high and full and firm, and she displayed them brazenly, her heart throbbing wildly in her chest.

"Erin..."

She liked the rapt expression, the appreciation that darkened and narrowed his eyes and quickened his breathing. She came close to him, quietly removing his coat while he watched her, disbelieving. Slowly she unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his broad, hair-matted chest to her exploring hands. She smiled in satisfaction as the thick, cushy hair tickled her palms.

"Oh, Ty..." She slid her arms under his shirt and around his waist, so that she could press her taut breasts against him.

"God," he groaned. He caught her shoulders and moved her abrasively against him so that he could feel her silky firm flesh and aroused peaks brushing against his muscular chest. She was so warm, so sweet.

His heart ran wild when her hands found him, blatantly caressed him in a place she'd never touched before. He almost went to his knees with the force of the passion she aroused.

She felt his hunger for her and moved closer, letting her thighs touch his, drowning in the remembered pleasure of flesh against burning flesh.

"Your skin is hot," he whispered roughly.

"So is yours." She arched backward so that she could see his face. Her own was flushed with hunger, her eyes fiercely passionate, her lips parted sensually. "I want you."

"Yes, I know," he said, his voice harsh and almost unrecognizable. "I want you just as much."

Her breath sounded ragged as it sighed out. "Here," she whispered. "Can...we?"

"I think we'll have to," he replied with bitter humor, shuddering a little with his own arousal. He bent and lifted her, pressing his mouth hungrily against one full, perfect breast and glorying in her passionate response.

She moaned sharply, opening her eyes as he lifted his head. She shuddered in his hard embrace, feeling his body absorb the shock of his steps as he carried her to the end stall, which was filled with clean hay.

"No one will come, will they?" she asked.

"No one will see us, or hear us." With one hand he jerked a clean piece of canvas off the wall to use as a cover over the soft but prickly hay. Then he lowered her to their makeshift bed and slowly peeled the dress down her hips, taking her lacy undergarments and hose with it in an undressing that was pure seduction. His lips followed the movement of his hands, and he used them both to drive her wild, nibbling hungrily at her soft hips, caressing her thighs slowly, rhythmically, until he felt her arch and shudder helplessly beneath him.

He touched her then, and she cried out, because it had been so long, and it was so sweet. His warm hands on her body made her forget the chill of the stable and the sting of the cold cloth against her back. She lifted toward those exquisite hands, begging for them, savoring the exquisite roughness of them on her soft flesh. He felt himself throbbing all over with pleasure as he gazed into her lazy, misty eyes and saw her need for him.

Oh..." she moaned, hurting for him, so on fire with the pleasure he was giving her that she couldn't quite hold it all. She bit her lip, trying to keep quiet.

"Cry out if you feel it like that," he whispered, his voice rough with passion. "Let me hear you."

"I...ache," she whimpered, trembling as he rubbed tenderly at the sensitive peaks of her breasts.

"Not half as much as I'm going to make you ache now." He bit at her soft lips, teased them, rubbed at them, laughing sensuously when she reached up and caught his head and dragged his mouth down hard onto hers.

The kiss they shared was hotter and wilder than anything that had come before. She couldn't get enough of him. She was drowning, and only he could save her.

"Please, now," she heard herself whisper into his demanding mouth. "Please, Ty, please, please..."

"Shh," he whispered gently. "Shh. Just a minute. Just another minute."

He moved a little away and removed his clothing slowly, watching her, feeling her eyes on him. He had a good body at least-if not a good face-and he liked the way she looked at him with those lazy, hungry green eyes. She shifted on the cloth, her hips moving sinuously, her eyes promising heaven.

He eased down beside her, and she touched his hips, pulling, half pleading.

"Not yet." He touched her softly, watching her arch and moan. "Not just yet. I want to make you beg me this time," he whispered roughly. "I want to watch you cry."

"Please...!"

His mouth covered hers and his hands touched her in new, unfamiliar ways, and for minutes that stretched like exquisite torture, he taught her new ways to ache. She lost her ability to reason in the throes of the most unbearable pleasure she'd ever experienced.

Finally he eased her down onto the cloth and moved over her, his hands on her thighs, his chest crushing gently over her taut breasts. He looked at her as she opened her tormented eyes and breathed in helpless shudders, her nails digging into his flat hips in fierce pleading.

"Easy, now," he whispered, his own voice unsteady, husky with controlled passion. He moved a little and felt her jerk, and saw her eyes dilate frantically. "Easy," he persisted, watching her eyes as he overwhelmed her in a slow, tender rhythm that had the effect of dynamite on her overstretched nerves.

She began to cry at the exquisite tenderness, the slowness of his movements as he deepened his thrusts and his weight gradually began to settle over her. She felt abrasive hair, warm, hard muscle and the heavy, quick throb of his heart over hers.

He slid his hands under her head, gently cradling it, and then saw her face contorting. "Don't close your eyes, sweetheart," he whispered tenderly. "Let me look at you. That's it. Lift up. Lift. Lift...Feel the rhythm. Feel it with me. Lift up...God, Erin, you...make me whole...you make me...sweet...you're so...sweet...God, Erin, God!"

He arched above her, shuddering, shuddering, and she felt it and felt it; a gentle kind of anguish that was terrible in its sweet, slow intensity, like giant hands crushing her with a throbbing warmth that consumed everything in a maelstrom of sensation.

He was whispering something, and she was crying, sobbing, her arms clasped furiously around him, her body trembling softly under his.

She felt his hands smoothing her hair; soothing, comforting her. He kissed away her tears with tender lips that searched over her face in an agony of caring. "Sweet," he breathed shakily. "Like a tender avalanche, flinging me up into the sun, burning me alive!"

"I didn't know it could be like that," she whimpered, clinging closer, feeling him in every cell of her body as he lay over her. She bit him, bit his shoulder, his neck, with bites that were gentle and possessive.

"It can be again." He moved softly against her. "It can be...now."

She shuddered a little, moving with him. Her face curved into his throat this time, savoring the throb of his body against her own as he slowly increased the sweet rhythm.

His mouth slid over hers while they loved. When it happened the second time, it was like a crescendo of fireworks, tender and slow and long-drawn-out, so that she vibrated like a taut bowstring for a long, long time until she felt the echoing vibration of his strong male body over hers; until she heard him moan her name in sweet anguish, and shudder and finally collapse gently on her damp body.

His mouth moved warmly on hers. "If you hadn't taken precautions," he whispered unsteadily, "we'd have made a baby just then."

She clung closer, her eyes closed. "I know," she said softly. "Oh, Ty, we never loved like that...!"