THE RENEGADE AND THE HEIRESS

by Judith Duncan

  Letting the muscles in his back go slack, he forced himself to comment. "You've got pretty good technique going there, Red."

  She chuckled and moved to the small of his back, eliciting another groan from him. "I should. I took a two-year course. "

  Finn opened his eyes, frowning slightly. That didn't compute. "You took a course?" he verified, not believing what he'd heard.

  She dug the heels of her hands into muscles along his spine. "I've taken all kinds of courses. Mostly out of personal interest. And some," she said, working on another group of muscles, "just to annoy my father."

  His eyes open, Finn turned his head, his curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

  She gave a soft laugh. "Like a mechanics course for women—I practiced on his prized cars. He had a fit when he found out."

  Too relaxed to answer her, he focused on the sensations, her hands working magic on his tired body. And it was an experience like he'd never had before. He had never expected it to feel so good—or to have the effect it did. Finn closed his eyes, the sensation spreading through him like liquid honey.

  But then she massaged the small of his back, the pressure of her hands doing unbelievable things to his body, and his heart stumbled. And in the space of that heartbeat, his exhaustion was no longer a defense. And his whole body responded. Concentrating on his breathing to keep it even, Finn clenched his jaw, the feel of her hands on his body making his blood run thick, a male need unfolding in him.

  He tried to focus, to keep his mind blank, but she shifted on top of him, her long legs tensing and shifting against his hips. And with that one small movement, his self-imposed discipline—the discipline he had used to shut himself off—crumbled, and all he could think about was the intimacy of her legs clutching him, and the feel of her hands all over his body. A long denied need pumped through him, and he tightened his hands into fists and abruptly turned his face into his folded arms, forcing air into his lungs.

  He thought he had gotten a grip; then she leaned forward and grasped one of his clenched hands, releasing his grip.

  "You've gone all tense," she said, her voice soft as she began to massage the palm of his hand. Fighting the fevered sensations throbbing through him, Finn locked his jaw, every cell in his body responding to her touch. Just when he had reached the point of no return, she let go of his hand. His heart pounding, Finn struggled to bring himself under control, and he thought he'd made it when she took hold of his other hand.

  That palm was even more sensitive than the first, her touch more caressing, and just like that, all his good intentions got blown to bits. And Finn could not remain passive any longer.

  Needing to stop her marauding hands—needing to tell her how much her touch restored him, he twisted underneath her.

  Her hair wild around her shoulders, the hem of her nightshirt shoved up, she stared down at him, the pulse in her neck running wild. Finn held her gaze, then ran his hand up her naked thigh. She shifted her hips, aligning herself to his throbbing hardness. The only thing that separated them was the thin motel towel, and she reacted as if she'd been scalded. Making a low, ragged sound, she closed her eyes and moved against him.

  Feeling as if he was about to explode, Finn grasped her face and pulled her down, taking her mouth in a restrained kiss, the blood pounding in his ears. And even then, maybe he could have pulled back, but her breath caught and she opened her mouth. It was too much. Too much. Clutching the back of her head, he ground his mouth against hers, pouring his heart and soul, all his aloneness into that kiss.

  And even with need clawing through him, Finn still thought he would be able to pull back, but then she slid into his arms, her body molding against his, skin against skin. The feel of her on top of him, of her heat pressed tightly to his hardness, made his whole body go hard, and a red haze filled his mind.

  His lungs expanding on a surge of need, Finn altered the angle of his mouth on hers, desperate for the taste of her, desperate for her. Drawing her knees up, Mallory twisted against him, and Finn groaned, the pleasure so intense it was almost like pain. Tangling his hand in her damp hair, he tightened his hold on her head, then locked his other arm around her hips as he worked his mouth against hers, starved for the heat of her.

  He wanted this. More than his next breath he wanted this, wanted her. His mind consumed with the red haze, Finn roughly rubbed his hand across her buttocks, aware that only the towel prevented him from thrusting into her. That awareness escalated the fever in him, and desperate to taste even more of her, Finn opened his mouth wider. Driven by the kind of hunger that consumed, he feasted on her, the raw hunger coursing through him. But even though he plundered her mouth again and again, he couldn't get enough of her, and he crushed her hips against his, trying to pull her under him.

  But nothing was ever easy with Mallory O'Brien, and she struggled free, keeping her mouth welded against his. Knowing where this was going and unable to stop himself, Finn shoved her T-shirt up, a shudder coursing through him as his thumbs skimmed the peaks of her perfect breasts.

  On a ragged sound, Mallory broke off the kiss and sat up, her weight on his groin nearly sending him over the edge. Her mouth swollen and her eyes glazed, she grasped the bottom of her nightshirt but Finn beat her to it. His whole body engorged with blood, he whipped the shirt off over her head, her hair spilling around her shoulders, his pulse stumbling when he saw the dark, urgent look in her eyes. Whispering her name, he clasped her head and pulled her down and claimed her mouth again. Fighting for air, he dragged his mouth away and dragged her beneath him, the towel no longer separating them as she wrapped her long legs around him. He couldn't contain the ragged sound ripped from him as he settled his weight on top of her, his hard flesh pressing against hers. The rush of pleasure was so intense it nearly took him under. So good. It felt so damned good.

  His breathing raw and labored, Finn twisted his head against hers, fighting to put on the brakes. More than his next breath he wanted to thrust into her moist heat, to lose himself inside of her, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to remain still, his whole body trembling. He couldn't use her this way. Especially when he had nothing to protect her.

  Clutching at him, she moved under him, thrusting her hips upward. "No," she sobbed out. "You can't stop."

  Nailed with another rush of need, Finn shuddered, his hardness pressed against her. He clutched her hips even tighter against him. Feeling as if both his heart and lungs were about to explode, he pressed his mouth against the curve of her shoulder. "I can't take that kind of a chance with you," he whispered raggedly.

  Grasping his head with both hands, she made him look at her. Her eyes were almost black and glistening with tears, a kind of panic in her face. "It's okay," she pleaded. "Don't stop."

  Forcing in another unsteady breath, he took her face between his hands and tipped her head back, then covered her mouth, her desperate plea giving him back some control. This might be his only night with her, but he did not want it to be just a one-night stand. Not with her. Never with her. He wanted to taste every inch of her, find every pulse point. He wanted to acquaint himself with every inch of her body, to lose himself in her. He wanted to make this night last forever.

  Letting his breath go, he brushed his mouth back and forth across hers. "I won't stop," he whispered. "But I'm not going to be in a big rush, either." He took his time with another soft, searching kiss—a kiss so soft, so slow, so deep, he felt the effects all the way down to his feet.

  Mallory tried to fight him, tried to take him inside her, but he dragged her arms from around his neck, then held them on the bed above her head. Stroking her palm with his thumb, he gazed down at her, telling her exactly what he was going to do to her. She stared up at him, her eyes dilated and unwavering. Then he stroked a pulse point in her wrist, and she made a ragged sound and closed her eyes, arching her head back.

  It was as if her incoherence gave him another element of control, and Finn dropped his head and dragged his open mouth down the
pulsing vein in her neck. Still gripping her wrists, he moved lower, and Mallory moaned and arched beneath him, thrusting her breast toward his mouth. Closing his eyes, Finn suckled on her, giving her what she wanted—what she needed. And what he wanted and needed.

  He tasted her, made love to every inch of her, wanting to take her higher than she had ever been. Her physical responses and ragged moans, her involuntary shudders gave him rush upon rush of such agonizing satisfaction that he nearly lost it several times. He didn't want it to ever stop, this chance at loving her.

  But the touch of his mouth at the very heat of her took her too close to the edge, and Mallory wrenched free of his hold, then grasped his hair and pulled him up. "No more," she whispered brokenly. "I need you now."

  She struggled beneath him, trying to align herself with him, first ordering him, then begging him. Unable to deny the release she was offering one second longer, Finn shoved his arm under her, lifting her hips to meet him. It was as if all the years of his self-imposed solitary confinement piled in on him, and she was his only hope of salvation. His face contorting with the agony of being so close, he found her mouth and thrust into her, desperate for the heat of her.

  Feeling as if he was going to explode into a million pieces, he cupped her buttocks and rocked against her to trigger her response. Mallory arched and cried out, her nails scoring his back. Squeezing her legs around him, she tilted her hips, taking all of him inside her, her spasms of release contracting around him and drawing him deeper into her soft, moist heat.

  It was too much. Too much. And Finn could not hold back one second longer. Crushing her against him, he thrust into her, gloving himself in her heat, driven to give her all he could. Stiffening beneath him, Mallory tried to find the rhythm. Finn ground his teeth together, using every ounce of skill he had to take her over the top one more time. Then she shuddered and clutched at him as she convulsed around him again, her heavy contractions milking him. The red haze turned brilliant white, and he jammed his face against her neck as his own release came, his reality splintering into a million bright lights.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  «^»

  Blinded by the aftermath of sensation, Finn held Mallory in the tight cradle of his arms, his breathing still ragged, his muscles trembling. Being with her, being buried deep inside her was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, and he hauled in a ragged breath and roughly turned his face against her neck. He felt as if his spine had just been stripped from his body.

  Totally emptied and his whole body quivering, he roughly pressed her head against him, hundreds of emotions jammed up in his chest. He'd never felt this way before—so purged, so emptied—so restored. And he wasn't sure how he was ever going to pull away.

  She was hanging on to him for dear life, and Finn finally got it together enough to realize that tears were slipping down her temples. He gathered what little strength he had and braced himself on his elbows, his throat cramping up again as he gazed down at her. Her eyes were tightly closed, the tears spilling out, her hair spread like wildfire on the white sheets. Another surge of heavy emotion nailed him, and he had to swallow hard. God, but she mattered to him. His heart wedged painfully in his chest, he bracketed her face between his hands, carefully wiping away the tears with his thumbs. Then he closed his eyes and lowered his head, covering her swollen mouth with a soft, gentle kiss, trying to tell her by touch alone what a miracle she'd given him.

  Letting her breath go in a sob, Mallory locked her arms around his neck, holding on to him like a lifeline. His own throat so constricted he couldn't swallow, Finn gathered her up and held her tight, his own eyes damp. He wanted to say something to her. But he didn't want his first words to be the old standby, to ask her if she was okay. He needed to tell her that she had just brought him back to life. But he couldn't say that either.

  Unable to find the right words, he smoothed down her hair, then trailed a string of soft kisses across her face. He'd never thought he'd ever feel like this again—whole, complete. Alive.

  Sensing she was just as raw as he was, and that she needed him to break the emotion that bound them, he kissed the curve of her neck, then gave her a little squeeze. "I gotta tell you, Red," he said, his voice very gruff, kissing the hollow under her ear. "That was the best body massage I ever had."

  She hugged him back, rewarding him with a husky laugh. "I hope you don't tip all your masseuses this way."

  Finn chuckled and gave her another squeeze, his chest packed tight with feelings for her. Knowing that he was in so deep there was no way out, Finn shut out the stark reality he would eventually have to deal with. He had this night with her, and that was more than he'd ever hoped for.

  Shifting his position, he gazed down at her, smoothing tendrils of her bright hair away from her face; then he dropped his head and kissed the tracks of freckles across her nose and down her face. It was the first time he'd ever been to bed with a natural redhead, and the expanse of freckles fascinated the hell out of him, especially when she had them everywhere. "I think I've just become a freckle man," he murmured, kissing the freckles across the swell of her breasts.

  "There is no such thing as a freckle man," she sniped, sounding genuinely miffed as she tried to push his head away. Finn wasn't about to be budged from his exploration.

  He smiled against her soft flesh, following the freckles lower. "There is now." He did dot-to-dot with his tongue, moving still lower. "I've always liked Appaloosas," he said, deliberately baiting her.

  He didn't think she could ever do it twice. But one moment he was on the bed; then the next, he was flat on his back on the floor, half the bedclothes down there with him.

  Not quite sure how it had happened, he stared up at her, his expression stunned. She hung her head over the edge of the bed, resting her head on her folded arms, her thick hair spilling onto his chest. She gave him a deceptively sweet smile. "You might want to rethink that, slugger."

  Amused by her smugness, Finn reached up and snagged her arm; then using his considerable strength, he dragged her off the bed.

  She was laughing and struggling, but the instant her weight settled on top of his, her expression changed, and Finn's pulse accelerated, the feel of her flush against him setting his heart into overdrive. Her eyes dark and full of promise, she cupped her hand along his jaw, then bent her head and brushed her mouth against his, her touch soft, teasing, inciting. His lungs jammed up, and Finn ran his hand up her back, pressing her closer, his hunger no longer sated.

  Struggling with the sensations she was arousing in him, he managed to hold himself in check. "I shouldn't take any more chances with you," he whispered gruffly against her mouth.

  She shifted against him, her naked body molding with his. "Take chances with me, Donovan," she whispered back, her mouth moving against the sensitive hollow under his ear, her lips moist and tormenting. "I want you to take chances with me." Then tightening her hold on his head, she slid her body down his, her mouth blazing a trail of sensations. Finn tightened his fist in her hair, a ragged sound wrenched loose as she began to move against him. And in the space of a heartbeat, he was lost in her. Surrendering his strength to her, he let her take him under. And the urgency started all over again.

  * * *

  The thin light of dawn was seeping around the venetian blinds on the window when reality finally checked in. Struggling with the groggy feeling of disorientation, Finn opened his eyes; the only thing he was conscious of was that Mallory was snuggled up in his arms with her head on his shoulder, her breath warm against his flesh.

  Tightening his arm around her, he smoothed down her hair and brushed a soft kiss against her forehead. Then lifting his head slightly, he looked at the cheap clock radio on the nightstand. Hell, he'd wanted to be long gone by now.

  Dropping his head back on the pillow, he stared into the fading darkness, trying not to think how damned good it felt to wake up with her. He hugged her against him, saturated by her warmth and softness, h
er hair like silk against his skin. Being careful not to wake her, he gently repositioned her head, releasing pins and needles in his arm; then he tightened his hold again and began stroking her soft, soft skin.

  He was sure he had never been this exhausted in his whole life. He'd had maybe two hours of sleep the night they bolted, and he had even less the past night. His eyes throbbed and his head felt as if it was full of gravel, but he really didn't give a damn. He had lost count of how many times they made love, and waking up with her asleep in his arms was worth any amount of discomfort.

  He smiled to himself, remembering. Thank God they ended up back in bed. He didn't even want to think what he would have felt like if they'd spent the night on the floor.

  The scent of their lovemaking assailed his senses, making his pulse speed up, and he closed his eyes and grasped the back of her head. If he could, he'd stay here all day. But with Ed Jackson on the loose, they just couldn't risk it.

  Sobered by that thought, Finn opened his eyes, the backlog of exhaustion gone. For one entire night he had lost himself in her, putting every one of his instincts on hold. And that was a damned dangerous thing to do—especially with her. This one he had to keep safe, no matter what.

  Wanting to give her a few more moments of sleep, Finn eased out from under her, smiling a little when she mumbled something and rolled onto her stomach, her face toward him, her back bare to the waist. He gave in to one powerful need and carefully swept her hair back from her face as he pressed a kiss against her temple. Letting go a sigh, he covered her up. Hardening his jaw, he slipped from the bed and headed toward the bathroom. He didn't allow himself even one look back.

  Once showered and shaved, he went back into the room, a twist of humor surfacing when he saw how she was sprawled out, all the pillows clutched under one arm. He plugged in the electric kettle provided in the room, dumped a packet of instant coffee into one of the mugs, then opened one of the packaged sandwiches and spread the road map out on the tiny table. They had covered a lot of ground the day before. And if they could hold that pace again today, they should be in Chicago the following day. Sticking to the speed limit, that would mean nonstop driving for at least eighteen hours, and he wasn't too optimistic he could man age that. Not with as little sleep as he'd had over the past forty-eight hours.