Only Love

by Elizabeth Lowell

  For she was looking at him, too. The blunt, heavy flesh she had so recently measured with her hand looked very intimidating.

  Whip put his fingers beneath Shannon’s chin, lifting her face, forcing her to look away from the stark evidence of his renewed arousal.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Whip said simply. “I won’t take you that way.”

  “I—but—” Shannon swallowed and tried again. “It’s all right. It just—”

  Whip waited.

  “Well, damn,” she muttered. “It didn’t feel as—as unsettling—as it looks.”

  “Then close your eyes.”

  With a small sound Shannon did as Whip asked.

  “Give me your hand,” he said.

  She held out shaking fingers to Whip. He took them, kissed them gently, and put them around flesh that ached as though it had known no ease in months, rather than in mere minutes.

  Shannon let out a long, ragged breath. After another breath she began to caress Whip with slow, tentative movements.

  “See?” he asked deeply. “No teeth.”

  Helplessly Shannon laughed. When she opened her eyes, Whip was smiling down at her. His eyes blazed with an odd combination of tenderness and raw desire.

  “I won’t take you that way,” Whip said again. “Not unless you ask me to just as plain as the sun rising.”

  “Will it hurt?” Shannon asked.

  “A little. But only a little, and only the first time. You were made for me, honey girl. I’ll fill you perfectly and you’ll fit me just the same.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Whip’s eyelids lowered. Watching Shannon, he caressed the soft nest between her thighs, then parted her, sliding deeply within. She gasped as pleasure washed through her, licking over him hotly in turn.

  “I’m sure,” Whip said, his voice thick. “And so is your body. It kisses me in the sweetest way.”

  With a swift, controlled movement, Whip moved between Shannon’s legs, urging them apart.

  “W-Whip?”

  “It’s all right. I’m just going to return the favor.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to kiss your body in the sweetest way.”

  At first Shannon didn’t understand. Then Whip bent and nuzzled the tender skin of her inner thighs. His tongue flicked out just as his lips brushed over her softest skin.

  Shannon gasped Whip’s name as she understood.

  “You told me whatever I wanted, however I wanted it,” Whip said, nuzzling her. “Right now, this is how I want it. Does it hurt you?”

  “N-no.”

  “Do you like it?”

  Shannon’s breath came in with a ripping sound as Whip caressed her lovingly. He smiled, repeated the intimate touch, and felt her response all hot and sleek around him. The scent of her pleasure was a primitive perfume, telling Whip what he already knew. The virgin widow was his—whatever he wanted, however he wanted it.

  And he wanted it all.

  “There are some other things I learned in odd places around the world,” Whip said, biting Shannon with great delicacy.

  A hoarse sound came from Shannon’s throat. Her back arched like a bow drawn by a master archer. Lightning strokes of pleasure surged through her with each touch of Whip’s mouth. As he pleasured her, his hands pressed against her inner thighs, opening her to his unexpected, consuming caresses.

  “Seems there are as many ways of loving as there are of fighting,” Whip said against Shannon’s sultry skin.

  Distantly Shannon realized that she was in a position of total vulnerability, utter abandon. Yet she could do nothing about it, for a net of wild, glittering lightning held her enthralled and shivering between her lover’s hands.

  “I had no problem finding partners to hone my fighting skills on,” Whip said between tender, probing kisses. “But I never got around to finding a partner for this kind of play. So be patient with me while I get the hang of it.”

  Whip’s tongue discovered the tight knot passion had drawn from Shannon’s soft, sultry flesh. Intrigued, he swirled around the knot teasingly.

  Shannon gasped as tension and pleasure spiraled up swiftly, driving her higher and higher with each moment.

  “Do you like that?” he murmured. “I do. I know how delicate you are there, so I’ll take only a tiny little bite.”

  A high, rippling cry came from Shannon as the world became a glittering kind of black and then exploded into a thousand rainbow shards.

  Smiling darkly, Whip felt ecstasy take Shannon, shaking her like a leaf in a fierce storm. He knew he should release her untried flesh, but he couldn’t force himself to do it. He kept on caressing her, tasting her lightly, biting her tenderly, loving her in a silence broken only by her wild cries.

  Finally, reluctantly, Whip released Shannon from the thrall of his sensuality. He stretched out beside her, stroked her hair, and kissed the passionate tears from her eyes.

  Blindly Shannon reached out to hold on to Whip, needing him in ways she didn’t understand. When he gathered her against his body, his rigid flesh nuzzled the apex of her thighs. She was soft, hot, flushed from his caresses and her own response.

  The intimacy of their position made Whip’s heart stop, then beat with redoubled force. Reflexively his hips moved, probing the sultry nest with his blunt, unbending flesh. Silky heat curled out to meet him, inviting a deeper exploration. Knowing he shouldn’t, not able to stop himself, Whip caressed her with slow movements of his hips.

  Instinctively Shannon’s own hips stirred. The motion slid Whip more firmly against her softness. A thrill of pleasure radiated up through her body at the slight penetration. She moved again, and was rewarded again by the sweet, unexpected pressure that caressed and stretched her in the same motion.

  Whip groaned when Shannon’s helpless response licked over him as hotly as his mouth had moved over her a few minutes before. Then he felt her shift closer to him, her hips moving, her sultry core opening to him, weeping for him.

  “Honey girl,” Whip said almost roughly. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

  Slowly Shannon opened her eyes. They were changed by passion until all that remained was a smoldering sapphire rim around each dilated pupil.

  “What?” she asked, her voice husky.

  “Look down.”

  She did. Her eyes widened. She moved experimentally, then smiled a smile as old as Eve.

  “I thought you said it would hurt,” Shannon said.

  “You keep moving your hips like that and it will.”

  “You mean…?”

  “I mean you’re still a virgin,” Whip said bluntly, “but if you keep kissing me like that with your hot little mouth, I’m going to slide in you so deep you won’t know where I end and you begin.”

  Shannon’s glance traveled down Whip’s powerful body to the place where they were almost joined. She moved again, testing him and herself at the same time.

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  Disappointment sleeted through Whip. His body tightened in savage rebellion at being denied what it needed more than breath.

  “We’re already as close as we can get,” Shannon said. “I push and it feels good but we don’t get any, um, closer.”

  Whip let out a long, breaking breath as he realized that Shannon wasn’t turning away from him. She just didn’t understand how to accomplish the deeper interlocking that their bodies desired.

  “Do you want to join with me, Shannon?” Whip asked softly. “Do you want to get as close to me as a woman can get to a man?”

  Shannon looked up into Whip’s eyes and felt her heart turn over with love.

  “Yes,” she said huskily. “I want that. I want you.”

  Slowly Whip shifted until he was lying between Shannon’s legs once more.

  Shannon’s breath broke. She could feel him more clearly now. The sensation was delicious. Bubbles of pleasure expanded through her. When they burst, they caressed him with loving warmth.

&nbs
p; Whip smiled and fought against the harsh urgency that was driving him. He hadn’t expected Shannon to want him after he had given her one kind of fulfillment.

  But she did want him. The honeyed proof of it was licking over him right now, calling to him, telling him how easy it would be to push into her untried body.

  And how hot.

  “Wrap your legs around my hips,” he said huskily.

  When Shannon did, her breath broke. She felt Whip between her legs with stark clarity. It was disturbing…and profoundly arousing.

  A shudder of pleasure and anticipation rippled through her.

  “All right?” Whip asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Whip pressed into Shannon until he knew he would forever change her if he went any farther. He retreated, then returned, then retreated.

  “Still all right?” he asked, his voice strained.

  Shannon didn’t notice the roughness of Whip’s voice or the sweat standing on his skin. She was consumed by sensations that taunted her as much as they pleasured her. She twisted hungrily beneath his powerful body, seeking to increase the sensuous pressure of his presence within her.

  Whip froze.

  “Is it too much?” he asked, withdrawing.

  “I want more, not less,” Shannon said raggedly. “I want everything you have to give me!”

  Whip’s eyelids lowered for an instant as a shudder racked his body and soul. Then he looked straight into Shannon’s eyes and began rocking slowly, carefully. Her hips lifted insistently, demanding a more thorough kind of movement.

  “Not yet,” Whip said, laughing, retreating.

  “When…?” she cried.

  “When your body is shivering and you’re all around me like hot, wild honey. Then I’ll take you, Shannon. And we’ll both scream with the pleasure of it.”

  One of Whip’s hands moved down Shannon’s body, caressing her breasts and belly and hips. Then he found the satin knot of her desire once more. It was the same as she was—hot, slick, hungry. He teased her until she cried out and sought him even more urgently, her body coiling beneath his as forerunners of ecstasy raked through her.

  Whip’s hand slid beneath Shannon’s hips, testing and caressing her resilient flesh. Then his arm moved fully around her bottom and he dragged her upward, lifting her, opening her completely to him, wondering if she would like it that way.

  She did. He knew, because he felt the sultry pulses of her pleasure caressing his hungry flesh. The world darkened around him as desire coiled violently, pulling him down into the hot center of Shannon’s being.

  “Shannon,” Whip said urgently. “Look at me!”

  Dazed, shivering, Shannon opened her eyes. Whip was poised above her, his face dark with passion and his eyes like twin silver flames, burning.

  “Now, honey girl. Now.”

  He took her with a smooth, powerful thrust, not stopping until their bodies were as deeply joined as it was possible for a man and woman to be.

  Shannon stiffened and gave a keening cry. Instantly Whip froze, hoping that her body would adjust to his presence if he didn’t move.

  Then he felt the secret, deep pulses within Shannon and knew that she was transfixed by pleasure rather than pain. With a hoarse sound he began moving, no longer fighting the dark, elemental passion that called to him from her body. He drove into her tight satin depths, felt the honeyed kisses of her climax licking over him, and pulled her hips even more tightly against him.

  Whip’s last thought was that he hoped Shannon meant what she had said about wanting everything he had to give, because he had just discovered it was too late for him to hold back anything at all. Life had become a hot, radiant darkness with neither beginning nor end; and its heartbeat was the hard, silken pulses of his release spilling into her welcoming body.

  19

  RENO rode up to Shannon’s cabin in a blaze of summer heat that made the snowstorm of three days ago seem impossible. Pearly wisps of clouds trailed from the highest peaks. The rest of the sky was as clear and blue as Shannon’s eyes. The smell of evergreens and meadow grass gave the air an extraordinary savor.

  But whatever birdsongs the meadow and forest might have had to offer were being drowned out by Prettyface’s savage barking.

  “That’s enough, Prettyface!” Whip said, walking out of the cabin. “Reno is a friend. Friend!”

  Prettyface didn’t think so, but he subsided into snarls and then a grumbling kind of silence.

  Reno’s green eyes looked at the dog with deceptive laziness. His left hand wasn’t exactly on the butt of his revolver, but it wasn’t very far away, either.

  “Real sociable type,” Reno said dryly.

  “He’ll warm to you,” Whip said.

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “Just don’t try to come here when I’m gone.”

  “When will that be?” Reno asked coolly.

  Whip didn’t answer.

  Reno glanced from Prettyface to his brother, wondering if Whip was any closer to solving the problem of his conflicting passions for a distant sunrise and a pretty widow lady.

  Then the cabin door opened and a woman with a walk as sultry as the summer day came toward Reno.

  “Judas Priest,” Reno said beneath his breath as he dismounted in a fluid rush. “No wonder you’re between a rock and a hard place.”

  Whip said nothing, simply watched Shannon with haunted, quicksilver eyes. Then he held out his hand to her and smiled gently. When she laced her fingers through his, he pulled her close, tucking her against his body.

  Reno watched all of it, his brother’s tender smile and sheltering arm, Shannon’s loving blue eyes and equally loving smile. But most telling of all to Reno was their physical ease with one another.

  Shannon and Whip had become lovers. Reno had no doubt of it. If the radiance of Shannon’s eyes hadn’t told Reno, the shadows in Whip’s would have.

  Reno touched the rim of his hat to Shannon in silent greeting.

  “Shannon,” Whip said, “this is my brother Matt Moran, but we all call him Reno. Reno, this is Shannon Conner Smith.”

  My woman.

  Though the words weren’t said aloud, Reno sensed them very clearly.

  So did Shannon. Red tinged her cheekbones for a few moments. She held out her hand and searched Reno’s vivid green eyes anxiously, wondering if he would condemn her.

  Reno’s hard fingers lifted Shannon’s hand to his lips. He bowed as elegantly as though he were in a Paris ballroom rather than in a wild mountain meadow.

  Shannon startled both men by sinking into a deep, graceful curtsy, as though she were wearing yards of silk and crinolines rather than ragged men’s clothing. Then she peeked up at Whip’s dark, startlingly handsome brother with laughter and relief in her beautiful eyes.

  “A pleasure, Mr. Moran,” she murmured, rising.

  “Reno, Mrs. Smith,” he corrected gently, holding Shannon’s hand between both of his. “I left Mr. Moran behind a long, long time ago.”

  “Then you must call me Shannon. I never was truly Mrs. Smith. Silent John was my great-uncle.”

  For an instant Reno’s dense black eyelashes shuttered his reaction.

  No wonder Whip is having such a wrestling match with his conscience, Reno told himself silently. Shannon is a virgin.

  Or was.

  “In any case, Silent John is dead,” Shannon said clearly.

  “A lot of men will be relieved to hear that,” Reno said beneath his breath as he released Shannon’s hand.

  “I beg your pardon?” she said.

  “Silent John was, um, well-known around Colorado Territory,” Reno said.

  “His reputation—and Prettyface—went a long way toward keeping me safe while he was gone,” Shannon said.

  “Prettyface,” Reno said, glancing toward the huge brindle hound. “Hell of a name for something that, um …”

  Tactfully, Reno didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Maybe you’d like to
be the one to call him ugly,” Whip offered, smiling as he remembered Shannon’s saying something similar to him.

  Shannon snickered.

  “No, thank you,” Reno said promptly. “My mama didn’t raise any dumb ones.”

  Whip laughed out loud.

  “Come on inside,” Whip said. “We were just sitting down to lunch.”

  “Only if you’ll let me put something on the table. Eve packed enough food for two.”

  “Why?”

  “She wanted to come along, but when we got to Cal’s place, Ethan was feeling puny and so was Willow.”

  “Are they all right?” Whip and Shannon asked simultaneously.

  “They’re fine. Just a summer cold. I told Eve I could look the claims over by myself. If nothing looks good, I’ll go and bring her back up here. If there’s gold here, the two of us will find it.”

  What Reno didn’t say was that he doubted there was any gold worth mentioning up Avalanche Creek, which was why he had brought Eve along in the first place. He had prospected Avalanche Creek’s high, dangerous reaches years ago and found mostly chilblains and bruises for his efforts.

  “Did you bring the Spanish needles?” Whip asked.

  “In my saddlebags,” Reno said. “They don’t work worth a tinker’s damn without Eve, though.”

  “What are Spanish needles?” Shannon asked.

  “Dowsing rods made of metal,” Reno said. “They respond to gold or silver rather than to water. The Jesuit priests brought them to the New World hundreds of years ago.”

  “Do they really work?” Shannon asked him.

  “Count on it.”

  “But only for Reno and Eve,” Whip put in. “Damnedest thing you ever saw. If any other people hold the needles together, they’re just so much junk.”

  “Truly?” she asked.

  “As ever was. Makes the hair on your arms stand straight up to watch Reno and Eve using those needles.”

  “Then you found gold?” she asked Reno.

  “Yes. Way up in the Abajos, in a crumbling old mine that had been dug by Indian slaves for Jesuit priests. There were ingots of pure gold so heavy Eve could hardly lift more than one at a time.”