Shotgun Vows (9 page)

“Something Jillian loaned me. I think it's Seduction. Do you like it?” she asked. She thought she heard him groan.

“It's all right,” he said.

“It's pretty pungent in a confined space on a long ride. I hope it didn't bother you.”

“Nope. Not a bit,” he said. But the normal teasing note was missing from his voice, leaving it curt and just this side of hoarse.

He shifted his position, as if he were uncomfortable. And she thought he groaned again. He was probably stiff after the ride back from town, she decided. Earlier that evening, she had agonized over whether or not she was doing the right thing. Using the correct fork. Presenting the proper image for such an elegant restaurant. After a glass of wine, she had relaxed enough to notice that Dawson was treating her differently. He'd never once called her kiddo, or joked about her needing a baby-sitter or being too young. Had she finally gotten his attention?

Who knew that an expensive scrap of black lace could work such a miracle?

But now she wasn't sure whether or not it was correct to thank him. He had treated her like a woman; she didn't want to make a mistake and remind him of her inexperience.

But good manners were always appropriate, her mother had often said.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Dawson. Thank you for the date.”

“You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. But it's getting late. Time to get you inside. I'll see you to your room.” It seemed he couldn't open his door and get out fast enough.

But Mattie wasn't ready for the evening to end just yet. Tonight had been magical. And definitely a lesson in power dressing. She should have listened to her
mother a long time ago. Even her inexperience with men didn't keep her from seeing that Dawson couldn't take his eyes off her. And the expression on his face took her breath away.

She couldn't remember what the best food in San Antonio tasted like. But she would never forget the look in his eyes when he first saw her dressed up. She'd wished once to see that amused look wiped off his face. And she finally had. Now she wanted to experiment to see if it might work more magic. Could she get him to kiss her again?

When Dawson opened her door, she hesitated a moment, and he held out his hand. She put hers into his palm, then swung her legs out and let him help her up. When he closed the door, she leaned against it.

“Fresh air,” she said with a huge sigh. “It feels good. It's so beautiful tonight.”

“Yeah. Beautiful.” His voice was deep and masculine.

But what raised goose bumps on her arms was the fact that when he said that, he was looking at her. The feeling that filled her was more intoxicating than the wine she'd had with dinner. For the first time in her life, she actually
felt
beautiful. The whole evening was a fairy tale. She was like Cinderella at the ball. And Dawson her Prince Charming?

He was an awfully cute Mr. P. Charming. All evening her senses had been acute. The scent of his cologne started her insides swing-dancing. Where their bodies had brushed, or he'd touched her hand, heat had quickly followed.

And in the car on the drive back to the ranch, he'd rambled on in that deep, sexy voice of his. He'd pointed out sights of interest along the road, and she'd
wondered if he was nervous. She was naive, but not dense. This was Texas, for goodness' sake. It was flat! What sights could there be? There wasn't enough variation to make it as interesting as he was trying to convince her it was. But she had responded as if he'd pointed out a new Wonder of the World. In fact, he'd had her total and complete attention, but not because of what he was saying. The seductive sound of his voice had aroused every cell and nerve in her body. She wanted him to touch her, so much so that she ached from the need.

She shivered, and her teeth chattered in the November night air before she could clamp them together.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“A little. But I don't mind. The air feels so wonderful. I'd like to enjoy it for a few minutes.” She looked at him. “But you don't have to stay.” When he didn't say anything, Mattie assumed the evening was over. “Thanks again for a wonderful night, Dawson.”

To her surprise, he took off his suit coat and stood in front of her. He dragged the coat around her shoulders. She breathed in the intoxicating scent of him—strong, sexy, seductive.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Clearing her throat, she said, “The stars are spectacular.”

He moved beside her and leaned against the car, too. Their shoulders brushed, sending sparks dancing through her.

He looked up. “It is something.”

“Something? You'll turn a girl's head with that kind of sweet talk.”

His deep, wonderful laugh warmed her clear through. Then she thought of something. As a girl
who'd never had the opportunity to have her head turned, except for one disastrous time, Mattie wondered what Dawson had been like as a young man courting a girl.

“Dawson, will you tell me something?”

“Maybe. Depends. What do you want to know?”

“When you first started to date, what was your modus operandi?”

He looked down at her, and in the moonlight she could read the amusement on his face. She decided she liked that look and shouldn't let it bother her.

“My M.O.?” he asked. “I'm not sure I had one.”

“My brothers tell me that all guys are after the same thing. They perfect the optimum line that will help them get it. What was yours?”

“I can't remember.”

“Okay. You don't have to tell me.”

“I would if I could.” He smiled wryly. “I mean, I really can't recall dating—the early years anyway. I do remember guys who took advantage of the fact that most women want to mother a guy.”

His emphasis on the word
most
convinced her that he knew at least one woman who wasn't nurturing. “Most women?” she asked.

“My mother wasn't up to the challenge. Thanks to my father.”

“What happened?” she asked. It struck her that he was right about that mothering thing. She heard the pain and anger in his voice, and wanted to make it better. Isn't that what mothers were supposed to do?

“My parents divorced when I was ten,” he said. “End of story.”

“But—”

“You asked about my teenage technique,” he in
terrupted her. “It wasn't very good. But none of the girls knew any better, either.”

Mattie felt like one of those teenage girls. But who better to catch her up to where she should be than an experienced man? A very attractive experienced man? A very attractive, very experienced, very sexy Dawson Prescott.

“So, tell me what you can remember about your technique.”

He stuck his fingertips in the pockets of his slacks and laughed as he looked up at the star-studded sky. “It wasn't very sophisticated. Pretty transparent as a matter of fact.”

“Don't keep me in suspense. What was it?”

“The submarine races.”

“Excuse me?”

“After I spent money on a girl—movie, dinner, that sort of thing—I would take her to what I called my ‘thinking place.'”

She rolled her eyes. “Your ‘thinking place'?”

“I told you it wasn't very good,” he said sheepishly.

“You're right. But this is fascinating. So where was this thinking place, and what does it have to do with submarine races?”

“It was anywhere. Anywhere we could be alone to neck.”

“Ah,” she said. “Where do the submarine races come in?”

“There was this hill near where I lived that looked out over a valley. My buddies and I would take our dates there and park. To watch the submarine races.”

“The girls must have been pretty dense to fall for that line.”

“No. I usually picked the eggheads.”

“Why?”

“Because they had lots of questions. Curiosity is a teenage boy's best friend.”

“You are a sneaky devil.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Nope. Just a guy. With my share of testosterone.”

“So what happens to the testosterone when you get older?” she asked.

“Why do you ask?” he said sharply.

She shrugged. “Just curious. We've been standing out here for several minutes. Just you and me.”

Mattie knew she was flirting with danger. She also knew the way a woman knows these things, that Dawson was attracted to her.

Her feelings about him were confusing, at best. If anyone had asked her a couple of days ago, she would have said she wasn't even sure she liked him. But somehow things had changed tonight. She realized that she liked him very much. She'd waited all evening to be alone with him, really alone. She'd longed for him to kiss her again. She was a grown woman who'd never known the touch of a man. Tonight, she wanted to change that.

“Yup. You and me,” he said. “Can't argue with that.”

“And you haven't asked me to watch the submarine races yet.”

His eyes darkened, confirming her intuition about his attraction. There wasn't a hint of teasing or amusement in his gaze. The look thrilled Mattie to her core and stole the breath from her lungs.

“Do you want to go there, Mattie?”

“More than you can possibly imagine.”

A
fter spending the past few hours with the most beautiful, sexy woman he'd ever met, Dawson had little willpower left—and Mattie was testing it.

All the way back to the ranch he'd smelled her aptly named perfume, listened to the husky sound of her voice in the semidarkness, coupled with the seductive silky whisper of her nylon-clad legs brushing together each time she moved. With every breath he took and every sexy sound she made, he had reminded himself that she was too young, too vulnerable, too off-limits. But for God's sake, he was a man. He wasn't made of stone.

She had to know what she was asking. She just didn't know she was asking the wrong guy. It wasn't fair to do this to the guy who was keeping her safe from this very thing. And it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her so.

“Look, Matt, it's late. We should go in—”

In one angry movement, she pushed away from the car. “I know what you're trying to do, Dawson.” She removed his jacket from around her shoulders as if it were distasteful.

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying not to notice the way she was breathing hard and what interesting things that did to the part of her breasts he could see.

“You can't pretend I'm a kid anymore.”

Right on that one,
he thought, opting for silence as the better part of valor.

“You just used the masculine form of my name.” She handed him his jacket. “If you can't bear to touch me, just be honest.”

Dawson wanted nothing more than to be honest with her. Unfortunately, it wasn't his secret to reveal. Now he had jumped from the frying pan right smack into the fire. Damn, he wished Griff would get back.

“Mattie, it's not what you think—”

“You don't have a clue what I think. But excuse me if I leave before the portion of the evening where you laugh.”

She started to walk away, but he gripped her arm. “Why would you think I would do that?” he asked, angry that she had such a low opinion of him.

“I guess it's my destiny to provide amusement to men.” She looked at him, and in the moonlight he saw hurt and rejection on her face. “I fell for a guy once,” she said. “A major crush when I was sixteen. He worked on my family's ranch. When I managed the nerve to tell him how I felt, he laughed at me. My nickname was Plain Jane, and he didn't miss the opportunity to use it. But the worst was that he told my brothers. I'd just as soon not repeat that experience—if you don't mind.”

She turned on her heel and headed for the house. He followed in her wake through the semidark interior. Lights here and there had been left on for them. It was so quiet, he figured everyone was asleep. He wanted to call out to Mattie to stop, but didn't want to wake her aunt and uncle. Finally she reached the door to her room in their isolated wing of the house. Before he
could stop her, she'd stepped inside. He heard the lock
click.

He stood there a moment, feeling like a jerk. He'd just broken every promise he'd ever made to himself. He'd hurt Mattie. Somehow he had to undo the damage he'd done. He went into the room that adjoined hers and walked through their shared bathroom. When he came out the other side, he saw Mattie still in her dress as she slipped out of her panty hose.

“We have to talk,” he said.

“Good Lord!” She gasped and whirled to face him. “You've got to stop sneaking up on me.”

“I didn't mean to scare you. I just couldn't end the evening like that.”

“Okay. Good night. The end. The pity date is officially over.” She turned away and walked over to the dresser, dropping her nylons in the top drawer.

He walked up behind her. In the mirror he saw a single tear slip down her cheek. “Mattie, there's something you need to know.”

“I already know everything.” She shook her head and said, “All you had to do was say so if you didn't want to kiss me.”

“It's not that.” He stared at the feminine curve of her neck, at the soft skin that he desperately wanted to taste.

He'd used every last ounce of willpower he possessed to hold himself in check with her outside under the stars. In fact, if he had to guess how he would reap his after-death reward, he figured his self-control tonight qualified him for sainthood. But that could change in the blink of an eye, or the meeting of mouths. If he kissed her, he knew without a doubt that all bets would be off.

He wanted her.

She made a sound that was an awful lot like a sniffle, and he felt his insides twist.
Don't do this to me, Mattie,
he silently begged her.

“Once a plain-Jane, always—” Her voice caught.

“Mattie, that's not true. Do you really not know how beautiful you are?” He couldn't stand it that she would think that. “I wish I could have five minutes alone with the jerk who said that to you.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her.

When she looked up at him with misery in her big gray eyes, he knew touching her had been the biggest mistake of his life.

And for reasons he didn't understand, he couldn't seem to care.

He cupped her face in his hands and brushed a single tear from her cheek with his thumb. Then he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips trembled. At the first touch of their mouths, Mattie's breathing hitched up a notch.

He lifted his head a fraction. “Don't cry, sweetheart. Don't you see? I don't want to hurt you.”

She stared at him, seeming to study the tension in his jaw, his eyes. “Then don't walk away from me,” she said.

“I don't want to walk away. But there's something you need to know—”

She put her fingers over his mouth to silence him. “I already know everything I need to.”

Her hands rested on his waist. She slid them up his chest and around his neck, caressing the hair at his nape. His sharp intake of breath made her smile. Whatever he'd wanted her to know was forgotten. They
were in a world all their own, where everyone and everything was forgotten.

He took her face in his hands and touched his lips to hers, a brushing as gentle as the flutter of a butterfly's wings. Yet every part of her came alive at that slight contact. Rational thought washed away on a wave of desire powered by years of yearning. She didn't want to think anymore, only to feel. She found herself caught in a vortex of emotion so powerful she couldn't pull out—and didn't want to.

She felt his chest, the rapid rise and fall. His breathing was less steady than her own. Exhilaration poured through her. This is what she'd been waiting for! She wanted to touch and be touched. To give and receive. She couldn't hold back the feelings any more than she could pluck a star from the sky and cradle it in her hand.

He wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss. She felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips, urging them apart. When she willingly complied, he entered her mouth, and she reveled in the fact that she was taking part of his body into her own. To signal her acceptance, she touched his tongue with the tip of hers. He groaned as a shudder shook him.

Pulling back, he gulped in air, then said, “You're a witch.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Definitely good,” he mumbled. “I want to make love with you,” he whispered. “I want you more than I've ever wanted any woman.”

“Then what's stopping you?” she asked.

He went still and met her gaze. “Are you sure? Really and truly certain? I don't want you to have any regrets.”

She nodded. “I've never been more certain of anything in my life.”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, then he kissed her and nibbled his way across her cheek to a general area just beneath her ear.

When he touched
that
spot, it was like a charge of electricity sizzled straight through her body right to her most feminine place. Liquid heat poured through her, and the result was as devastating as the mixture of water and electricity. At the same time, she felt her dress slide off her shoulders and down her body, to land in a pool around her feet.

“And you're a magician,” she said, laughing nervously. “That dress came with an instruction manual.”

“Where there's a will,” he mumbled, tracing that spot again. “And there's definitely a will,” he added, his voice husky.

In the next instant her bra loosened, and he lifted one strap from her shoulder and pulled it away. She started to lift her arms to cover her breasts.

He caught her wrists in a gentle grip. “Don't. You're beautiful inside and out.”

“Okay,” she said, dropping her hands. “If you say so.”

“I say so because it's the honest truth.”

Her eyes filled again, this time with tears of gratitude. If she'd had any doubts before, they completely disappeared with his words. She trusted Dawson. He wouldn't hurt her. She wanted him to be her first. It was absolutely and completely right.

Boldly, she unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it from his broad shoulders. Moonlight streamed through the windows of her room, and she was never more grateful
for Mother Nature's light. In the silver glow, the muscles and contours of Dawson's chest took her breath away. He reached for his belt and the closure on his trousers. Mattie held her breath. She had never seen a naked man before; Dawson was her first.

When he pushed pants and briefs past his hips, his arousal sprang free. He was larger than she'd anticipated, hard and ready. Through her slight flash of fear, she registered satisfaction that he wanted her, too.

He pulled her into his arms and backed her toward the bed. He pulled down the spread and blanket, then gently lifted her. He put one knee on the mattress, then, as if she were delicate crystal, he set her in the center of the double bed. The cool sheet felt wonderful against her hot skin.

He stretched out beside her and pulled her into his arms, naked breasts against his chest. He kissed her again, and the touch of his mouth was electric. He slipped his hand down and cupped her right breast in his big palm, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her nipple. The sensation was so delicious, she held her breath to savor it. Then he shifted his body down and took her into his mouth. He suckled and laved the erect nub with his tongue until the pulse rate between her thighs seemed to vibrate to the rhythm he set.

Then he turned his attention to her other breast and took her to a higher level of wanting. She sank her fingers into his biceps and shuddered with pleasure.

Dawson slid his hand to her waist, cupping it gently before moving downward. He skimmed her abdomen, then his hand slid into the curls between her thighs. With one finger, he traced her opening. Heat radiated from her, and the throbbing at her core became more insistent. Her last conscious thought was that all her
fantasies about making love paled in comparison to reality.

He touched the sensitive top of her femininity. “Oh, Dawson—”

“What, sweetheart? Do you want me to stop? If you do,” he said, his voice raspy, his chest heaving, “speak now or forever hold your peace. I'm gettin' awfully close to the point of no return—”

“No,” she gasped. “Don't you dare stop.”

It felt too wonderful for words. When he slid his finger inside her, the pulsating increased. She needed to know the final mystery of mating. She wanted him inside her.

She slid her hand down to his waist, and a groan escaped him. His response nurtured her female soul, and she reveled in her power to turn him on. She started to move her hand lower, then stopped, suddenly shy. He took her fingers and rested them over him. The soft thickness felt right in her hand, like velvet over steel. She stroked him until he groaned.

Suddenly and in one fluid motion, he rolled her to her back, then levered himself on top of her. Spreading her legs wider with his knee, he positioned himself against her. She felt a hard probing at the intimate entrance to her body. She gasped, feeling anticipation as well as a little trepidation. Then he gently pushed.

She felt his passion, his desire, his confusion as he encountered her tightness.

“Mattie, what—” He went still. “Are you—”

Every cell, nerve and muscle in her body screamed out in protest. She had waited for this too long. She was more than ready. He was half a heartbeat from pulling away. No way was he backing out now.

Mattie raised her hips to meet his thrust, and felt
his entry followed by a swift tearing pain. She gasped at the sharp discomfort and buried her face in his neck. His arms came around her and just held her until, in a matter of moments, the ache diminished. She sensed his tension and need for release, even as she felt his restraint in the bulging muscles of his arms. But she didn't want restraint. She wanted to experience it all.

“It's all right,” she whispered. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper inside her. “I want to know everything.”

He moaned, and she could almost feel his surrender. Then he drove into her. His breathing was a rough rasp in her ear, but the movement produced delicious sensations that made her heart race and her blood sing. She quickly learned the rhythm and moved with him. His urgency was contagious, fueling her own rising passion. The feelings were more powerful, more profound than she'd ever imagined. With Dawson, she rose higher and higher until bright light consumed her. Her world shattered into a thousand shards of glass.

As she drifted back to earth on a golden cloud, delicious aftershocks rippled through her. At the same time, Dawson strained, and she watched his face, the concentration in his features, the tension in his jaw. Then he lunged once more and stopped, groaning as he found release. Now that she knew the wondrous feeling herself, she was very happy to give to him in return.

Completely spent, Dawson lowered himself against her, then rolled to his back. He was still breathing hard. In the moonlight, she saw the astonishment mixed with anger on his face. She didn't understand. For several moments she watched him as he dragged air into his lungs.