Whirlwind Wedding (23 page)

How was she ever going to find a way out of the trap they'd sprung? Helplessness welled up, spilled over into her fear. It was too much. With a choked sob, she slid her arms around Jericho's waist.

“Hey.” He folded her against him and laid his cheek against her hair. “It's going to be all right.”

She was scaring the hell out of him. She cried silently against him, her tears dampening his shirt. He stroked a soothing hand up and down her spine. “You can trust me, you know.”

Her slender arms tightened around him and he felt the desperation rolling off her. Seeing her like this made his chest constrict.

He cradled her to him, pressing a kiss to her hair, nuzzling her temple. She burrowed into his chest. “Catherine, let me help you,” he murmured against her damp cheek.

She turned her face toward him, her head against his chest.

“I will, you know. I'll do anything for you.”

That only seemed to make her cry harder. He didn't know what to do. “Catherine, please.”

He kissed her cheek, then her eyelid, tasting the salt of her tears. A feeling of utter helplessness sliced through him. He brushed kisses on her forehead, her nose, her lips. “Please, darlin'.”

She quieted, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt. He felt so good, so solid. All she wanted was to be held by him, touched. Protected. She had no control over anything in her life except for this moment.

“That's good.” He nuzzled her temple. “You're going to be okay.”

With him, she would. He could chase away the cold dread gnawing at her, right the world that had begun to spin so crazily. Andrew was safe at Riley and Susannah's. Catherine was safe here with Jericho.

When his mouth grazed her cheek again, she turned her head, seeking him as if she were dying of thirst and he was water. Her lips met his.

For one aching second, he froze, and everything in her did, too. Then his mouth settled over hers, his tongue sliding inside as he gathered her against his hard strength.

S
he melted into him, touching her tongue to his. He clasped her head in his hands, his kiss growing impatient, more demanding. Catherine thrilled to it, curling one hand around his nape.

When they finally broke apart, their breathing rasped in the silence of the house. His chest rose and fell as rapidly as hers.

The hungry, tender look in his eyes nearly undid her. He'd looked at her that way yesterday, too. As if she belonged to him. As if she always would. Heat swept her entire body and she shook now from desire, not fear. They came together again, mouths searching, fusing. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him with everything in her.

“Come closer,” he said in a smoky voice.

She laughed softly. “I am close.”

“A little closer.” His hands curved over her bottom and he pulled her hips to his.

She caught her breath at the delicious jolt of pleasure, and rubbed against him, curious, testing the feel of his arousal. “Like this?”

He made a sound deep in his throat and took her mouth again, his tongue searching deep. He tasted of coffee and her.

He moved his lips to her ear, breathed her name as he tickled the delicate shell with his tongue. She shivered. His mouth softly grazed her cheek, and the memory of what Angus had done evaporated. Heat raced along her nerves. Jericho kissed her neck, her collarbone, his freshly shaved jaw smooth against her skin. Then his mouth came back to hers, insistent and demanding, rousing a dark need inside her.

Her arms curved around his hard shoulders. She stroked the corded strength in his neck, buried her fingers in his hair. She couldn't get close enough, her hands moving over him with an urgency that startled her.

Shaking, she touched the high slash of his cheekbone, ran her fingers over his jaw, held his face in her trembling hands. His tongue stroked the silky underside of hers, his arm pinning her to him. The scents of soap and leather and dusky male filled her.

He shifted her to the crook of his right elbow, his hard biceps cradling her. He kissed her deeply, gentling now. She felt as if she was spinning, with colors wheeling crazily behind her eyes.

His left hand curved over her breast, and the unexpected touch had her moaning, arching into him. Her nipple hardened against his palm. His heat reached through her dress, her chemise, traveled to a spot between her legs. She made a sound and he slid his hand up, splaying his fingers to rest against the swell of her breasts as his thumb stroked the hollow of her throat. All the while his tongue played in her mouth.

She lifted, trying to move his hand back down to her breast. He undid the buttons between them, and a wave of longing rose in her. Her bodice loosened and he tugged at it until the fabric parted, then he reached for the tie on her chemise. The ribbon gave and he slipped his hand inside, his callused fingers closing gently on her flesh. She gasped as a piercing pleasure melted her. Gently he thumbed the peak of her nipple.

Catherine's hands slid down his chest, gripped his hips to steady herself. His arousal pressed strong and hard against her belly.

He dragged his lips from hers, trailing hot teasing kisses from her ear down her neck. His hand moved to her other breast, already aching for him. Wanting to touch him, needing to, she tugged his shirt from his trousers and slipped her hand beneath, finding hot supple flesh. The harsh sound he made encouraged her, and she tentatively ran her fingers across the hard planes of his stomach, teasing the thin line of hair that ran below his navel.

His hand left her breast, and as she protested, he picked her up and took the few steps to her bedroom, murmuring, “I want to make love to you, Catherine.”

“Yes, I want that, too.” Her lips skimmed the edge of his jaw. She'd never been more certain of anything in her life, and she wanted him to touch her again. Now.

He set her on her feet next to the bed. Sunlight flooded the room and he turned to pull down the oilskin shade. Watching the play of filtered light on his face, she moved into his arms, initiating their kiss this time. He nibbled at her lips, teasing her with the promise of more as he reached between their bodies to release the rest of her buttons.

He nipped her lightly where the slope of her shoulder met her neck. He tickled the spot with his tongue, and she made a little sound in her throat, shifting to give him better access.

Her hands moved on him restlessly, down his arms, across his shoulders. She kissed his neck, tasting the salty heat of him, then grazing her teeth against his flesh, as he'd done to her.

With her dress loose now, he slid the sleeves down her arms and pushed the garment to the floor along with her petticoats so that she stood before him in her chemise and drawers. His large, dark hands bracketed her waist, then slid up over her
ribs to the underside of her breasts. He brushed his thumbs across the nipples until they strained against the thin linen.

A sharp pleasure darted from her center to her breasts, and her eyes drifted shut. She'd never felt anything like this. She wanted to touch him. Pushing up his blue shirt, she looked at him.

His chest was broad and deep, burnished brown by the sun. Black hair whorled on his chest, then veed into that thin line arrowing into his trousers. Thin bands of muscle flexed fluidly across his belly. She ran her hands over the tempered strength of his chest, her fingernails grazing his flat brown nipples. He squeezed her waist, then pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it.

She watched her hand slide down his belly to the band of his trousers, saw the evidence of his arousal straining against the denim. She expected some trace of fear, some hesitancy, but she felt only excitement and anticipation. And the calming sense of safety that she always felt with him.

She shivered at the searing promise in his eyes. He tugged at her chemise until it sagged enough to bare the swell of her bosom. His eyes darkened and he lowered his head, nudging the fabric down. As he buried his face in the valley between her breasts, she felt his warm breath flow over her. He kissed her there, his lips soft and drawing gently on her flesh, as if he were drinking her in. A heaviness settled between her legs.

“Hold on to me,” he murmured against her skin.

The way his voice curled around her had her legs wobbling. She grasped his hard shoulder as he leisurely licked his way to the place where pale flesh met rosy pink. His tongue circled close to her nipple, not touching, only teasing. And then he took her in his mouth.

She gasped, her hand tightening on him. While he tongued her nipple, his free hand came up to cup her other breast, and
she bit her lip to keep from moaning. The sight of his mouth on her, his hand, sharpened the ache between her legs, and her breathing went ragged.

His mouth moved to her other breast and her head fell back, her hand curving behind his neck to steady herself. Tension coiled deep inside. She felt him bunching her chemise in his fist, the material skimming over her hips, her waist. She helped him draw it over her head, shivering as she stood half-naked in front of him.

“You are…” He cupped her breasts, his big hands unsteady.

She dared a look at him. He stared at her tenderly, enrapt as he plucked at her nipples, then brushed his thumbs across them.

His eyes turned a stormy gray. “I can't breathe for looking at you.”

From the expression on his face, he didn't seem to mind. He caressed and kissed her breasts until her own breath broke on a ragged moan. Wanting to feel his strength against her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him to her. His hands drifted to her waist as she sank into his chest. At the touch of her bare breasts against him, they both inhaled sharply.

She trembled at the anticipation coursing through her. His chest hair tickled her breasts and his stomach was hard against her softer one. Lower, she felt his arousal, and she moved her hips against his as he'd done earlier. Her hand slid beneath the waistband of his trousers. His skin was wonderfully hot against her knuckles and she searched for the top button.

Jericho's breathing changed, grew deeper, and he curved his hands around her bottom, pulling her right into his hardness, the touch bold and intimate through her drawers.

His hands moved over her, hot and gentle, and striking sparks under her skin. He pulled the tape on her drawers and
pushed them down her hips, leaving her only in shoes and stockings.

“Shoes,” she panted, moving on shaking legs to the edge of the bed to take hers off.

She watched as he worked off his boots and socks. When he pushed his trousers and short drawers to the floor, her heart skipped a beat. His broad shoulders tapered in a ripple of muscle to a lean waist. His dark tan faded to paler skin at his hips. How could he seem even larger without clothes?

She marveled at the flat band of muscle across his belly, the lean, powerful flanks. Her gaze followed that line of hair from his navel to the juncture of his thighs. And she blinked. He was large and intimidating. She looked at that most foreign part of him and a wicked pleasure rushed through her. She'd seen naked men before, but in a professional capacity. She was already reaching for him when he pushed her gently back on the bed and came down beside her.

Soft golden light filtered through the oilskin, drifting across those sleek, muscular arms, those taut flanks.

He kissed her long and deep, playing with her breasts, drawing her nipples into aching points until she nearly came off the bed. He lifted his head, his eyes molten silver as he ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “Do you know what's going to happen?”

She nodded, trying to catch her breath.

“You do?” His brow arched, his eyes smiling. “How?”

Her blood hummed as she eyed his nakedness. “Sister Clem told me.”

“Oh.” A sound suspiciously like choked laughter came from him.

Catherine smiled. “You think because she's a nun, she doesn't know?”

“The thought did occur to me.” He grinned.

“She was married before she came to the convent.”

“Oh.” His grin faded as he ran his fingers through her hair. “Well, I'm glad she told you.”

Catherine stroked his back, ran her hands down the hard muscles of his buttocks. “Would you have explained if I hadn't?”

A flush colored his neck, but he nodded. “Yes. I don't want you to be scared.”

“I'm not, just nervous.”

“I am, too, a little.”

“You are?”

“It's been a long time since I've done this.”

“I'm not sure, but somehow I don't think it's something you forget,” she muttered.

He laughed and her heart swelled. He had a beautiful smile, full and inviting, with a hint of mischief. She reached up to touch his face.

Fierce heat flared in his eyes. His index finger glided gently down the line of her jaw, then across her lower lip before he gave her a deep, languid kiss. The slow teasing strokes of his tongue melted her bones, and she rolled into him.

She skimmed her hands up his back, across his shoulders, marveling at the feel of his hair-dusted chest against the sensitive flesh of her breasts, the taut touch of his belly, the hard lines of his body against the curved softness of hers. She moved her hand lower, watching his face. A vein corded in his neck and she felt his muscles quiver. She quivered, too, as she looked down.

His arousal was hard and thick, pulsing between them. On the inside of his thigh, his scar was a healthy pink, thin and jagged and long. She leaned up and kissed him, using her tongue the way he had as her fingers drifted down over the hot rigid length of him. His hand tightened on her waist, his
tongue plunging deep in her mouth as she closed her hand around him. His entire body contracted.

Wanting to see him, she pulled away from the kiss, shivering at the intense need in his face. He felt like silk-sheathed steel, and when she moved her hand to feel more of him, he groaned and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She could read the pleasure in his narrowed eyes, and knowing he liked her touch made her wet and achy between her thighs.

She shifted so that she lay against him rather than on top, and continued exploring. She kissed his hot neck, touching with her tongue and tasting salt, along with a faint hint of shaving soap. She spread soft kisses across his chest as she stroked him. He pressed into her hand and showed her how he liked to be touched.

As she measured his length, his breath soughed out. He caressed and played with her breasts. The feel of his hands on her while she held him so intimately made her grow wetter. She shuddered. “Kiss me.”

He did, until the sleek heat at her core had her sliding one of her legs between his and pressing down on his hot hard thigh to relieve the ache at her center. He murmured sweet words to her, slipping his hand between them and thumbing the knot of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She cried out against his mouth, her hand moving on him faster.

He stayed her wrist. When she protested, he said in a scratchy voice, “Have mercy, Catherine. Let me catch up.”

When she looked at him in confusion, he laughed unsteadily. “I don't want this to be over yet, and if you keep touching me like that, it will be.”

“Okay,” she breathed. “But do something.”

He rolled, spreading her beneath him, and watched her face as he slid one finger deep inside her. The sharp jolt of plea
sure caused her to buck. She clutched at his arms and moaned, “Jericho.”

His finger massaged her in a deep, intimate rhythm, and she closed her eyes, amazed at the way her body softened for him. Another finger slid inside, stretching her. His thumb circled the spot at the top of her cleft, and she cried out, arching off the bed.

He stroked her faster, pulling a thread of tension tighter and tighter inside her until she quaked.

His mouth covered hers, his tongue going deep just the way his fingers were. His arousal lay hotly against the inside of her leg, and the weight of him stoked the pleasure higher.