Only His

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Nothing had changed. The contrast between his tan hand and the whiteness of her own skin was as vivid as before. The difference between the lean strength of his fingers and the soft fullness of her breast was still…

  Exciting.

  I am losing my mind.

  Willow told herself she should either get out of bed or pull the blanket up once more and spare herself the sight of Caleb’s hand tangled so intimately in her clothes. She did neither. She simply lay motionless except for the ripples of sensation washing through her with each breath, each unintentional stirring of her breasts against Caleb’s hands.

  A bird called sweet melodies from the rocks and was answered from the far side of the meadow. A breeze brushed through tall grass, making a sound like spirits breathing. Sunlight caressed the land as surely as Willow was being caressed with every breath she took. Caleb shifted again, drawing her even closer, cupping his hand more deeply around her naked breast beneath her clothes.

  Air came from Willow’s lungs in a rush. Very carefully, she eased Caleb’s right hand from her chest to her buckskin-clad hip. Then she slid her own hand inside her bodice in an attempt to remove Caleb’s other hand without awakening him. There simply wasn’t enough room for her hand as well as his inside the closely fitting buckskin.

  Holding her breath, she picked the buckskin laces free of their holes and unfastened the flannel top beneath until it was completely open. The buckskin lacings, however, opened only to her ribs, which left her little maneuvering room. It would have to be enough.

  Slowly, Willow slid her fingers over Caleb’s hand and tugged ever so gently. His hand moved against her naked breast, sending his hard palm rubbing over her nipple. A burst of heat licked through her, making her breath catch in a tiny moan. Her back arched in sensual reflex, repeating the caress, caressing his hand in turn. Biting her lower lip, Willow pulled gently at Caleb’s hand again, trying to free herself without awakening him. He muttered sleepily and tightened his grip on her once again, trapping her taut nipple between his fingers.

  The small, ragged sound Willow made brought Caleb fully awake. He felt the lithe curve of her body snugged against his own, the fullness of her hip beneath one of his hands and the naked silk of her breast nestled in his other. Smiling, he flexed both hands, enjoying the very feminine feel of Willow’s body.

  “Caleb?” Willow asked fearfully, a bare thread of sound. “You—you aren’t awake, are you?”

  “I’m getting there.”

  The heat of her blush was so violent he felt it suffuse her breasts.

  “I didn’t mean to awaken you,” she whispered. “I—I was just trying to—to move your hand.”

  “This one?” Caleb asked, spreading his hand over her buttock and squeezing gently, deeply.

  Willow’s breath broke. “No—I mean, yes, but mostly the other one.”

  “The other one?” Caleb smiled into her hair. “Where is it? I can’t see.”

  “I can, and that’s the problem.” Willow heard her own words and wanted to groan.

  “You can, huh? So tell me where it is.”

  “Caleb Black, you know very well where your hand is!”

  “How could I? It’s asleep,” he lied, smiling and searching through Willow’s hair for the sensitive nape of her neck. “So I can’t move it until I know where it is. Tell me, honey.”

  “On my—on my—” Her voice broke.

  “Shoulder?” Caleb offered.

  She shook her head.

  Willow’s hair slid aside, revealing her nape. His mouth settled over it, kissing gently, nibbling softly. He felt every bit of the sensual shivering that ran through her body. An answering heat flowed through him. He had never held a woman who was so responsive to his least caress.

  “Is my hand on your ribs?” Caleb asked deeply, running his teeth over Willow’s nape again, feeling her shiver, wanting to groan with the sweet agony of his own need.

  “N-not my ribs,” she whispered, barely able to think.

  “Your waist?”

  But this time Willow couldn’t speak at all, for Caleb’s teeth had closed on her nape in a tender, fierce caress that made thought impossible. She closed her eyes and tried not to cry out with the surprise and pleasure coiling through her, tightening her whole body. When his fingers closed delicately on her nipple, plucking the taut flesh, she moaned.

  “Now I see what the problem is,” Caleb said, propping himself on his elbow so that he could look over Willow’s shoulder.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “This.” His hand flexed beneath her clothes and her back arched. “See? We’re all tangled in your clothes. Lie still, honey. I’ll get us free.”

  Holding her breath and blushing, Willow watched Caleb with smoky hazel eyes and waited. His hand moved beneath the flannel, cupping all of her breast while his thumb drew lazy circles around her nipple. Her whole body stiffened.

  “Easy, honey,” he murmured. “Am I hurting you?”

  Willow made an odd sound at the back of her throat when his thumb rubbed the hard peak of her breast. He smiled and rubbed again, loving the velvet hardness that rose so eagerly to his touch.

  “Almost free,” Caleb said. Slowly, he shifted Willow onto her back, caressing her with slow sweeps of his thumb. “Gently, honey, just a little more and you’ll be free. Shift your shoulder a little. Yes, like that. Now take a slow, deep breath. That’s it.” A shudder ran through his body as he looked down at her uncovered breast. “God, you’re beautiful, as perfect as a rosebud.”

  Caleb bent down to Willow’s breast, turning his head slowly from side to side, letting the coarse silk of his beard caress her soft flesh, tightening her nipple even more. She gasped and grabbed his head.

  “Yes,” he said thickly. “Show me what you want.”

  Shocked and embarrassed, she tried to tug his head away, but her motions caused her erect nipple to brush against his lips.

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s what I want, too.”

  Caleb took the tip of Willow’s breast into his mouth as his hands tightened, making it impossible for her to move away while he caressed her with tongue and teeth. A strange, wild sensation speared through Willow, drawing a choked cry from her.

  “Honey?” Caleb asked huskily, looking up. “Did I hurt you?”

  “We shouldn’t—shouldn’t be doing this.”

  Caleb closed his eyes and fought the denial surging through him, a denial as fierce as the hunger he had for the girl whose breast lay against his lips.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked again.

  As he spoke, he blew on the nipple that was still glistening from his mouth. The soft rush of air over Willow’s breast made her stomach tighten. Her hips moved in a reflexive response she didn’t understand.

  Caleb did.

  “Tell me, Willow.” He kissed the tight rosebud he had drawn from her breast. “Did I hurt you?”

  Willow tried to speak but couldn’t. She shook her head.

  “Did you like it?” he asked.

  Heat suffused her face. She turned her head against his chest, hiding from him.

  Very gently, Caleb smoothed his bearded cheek over her breast once more before he turned away, not certain if his discipline would stand against the sight of her bare, soft breast nestled between buckskin folds, her nipple hard and rosy with the heat of his mouth.

  “It’s all right, honey. I won’t force you.”

  Caleb got up and went to the fire. After a few minutes, Willow joined him. They ate breakfast in a silence that wasn’t quite uncomfortable. He didn’t mention the morning intimacy of the bed. Nor would he let her talk about it. He was afraid she would try to refuse him the honey and cream of her body in the future. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let that happen.

  Shy, wary little trout. It’s been so long since she has felt a man’s touch. All I need is patience and she’ll swim right into my hands. I’ve always been told I’m a patient man. Why is it so hard to be patient with her?

>   Why is it so hard, period? Caleb asked himself impatiently. I’ll be lucky to stand up straight all day.

  Willow watched Caleb shyly from beneath her lashes as he moved around the camp, putting the supplies back into pack sacks, checking cinches and headstalls, making certain that the long ride hadn’t frayed anything other than flesh and bone. When he walked out into the meadow with a new bag of grain, she went beside him.

  A whistle brought Trey trotting and Deuce limping up for inspection. Caleb poured out two mounds of grain and worked over his horses while they ate, checking hooves and hide for damage, talking soothingly the whole time, praising his horses’ stamina and gentle temper. Willow watched, fascinated by Caleb’s easy strength and masculine grace. The restraint and precision of his hands also fascinated her. He was so gentle that Deuce didn’t even flinch when his wound was checked, yet Caleb did a thorough job of inspection.

  “Still clean,” Caleb said quietly. He stroked the horse’s muscular shoulder, feeling the roughness of hair where lather had run and dried more than once. “I’d groom you, boy, but I suspect you would rather be left alone for a day or two. Don’t blame you a bit. That was one hell of a trail.”

  One of the mares caught the scent of grain on the wind and trotted up, nickering softly. Caleb smiled and tugged gently on her forelock.

  “Hello, Penny. Feeling better after a night of eating?” he asked.

  Penny nudged the grain sack pointedly.

  Willow laughed. “Quit torturing her. She knows what’s waiting for her.”

  Caleb gave Willow a sideways look and a slow smile.

  “Waiting just makes it better, didn’t you know?”

  Wisely, Willow kept her mouth shut, but nothing she did could conceal her blush. She shivered as she recalled the passion she had tasted that morning.

  Ishmael cantered across the valley toward them. His ears were erect, his stride easy and even, his body supple.

  “He looks good,” Caleb said.

  “He’s breathing a bit too hard.”

  “Altitude. He’ll be fine in a week or two.”

  “It’s getting from here to there that bothers me,” Willow admitted, sighing and rubbing her temples.

  Caleb began pouring out more mounds of grain as the Arabians closed in, lured by the rich aroma.

  “We’ll take it easy until you’re used to the altitude,” he said.

  “Only twelve hours a day on the trail instead of eighteen?” Willow muttered beneath her breath.

  But Caleb heard. His hearing was as acute as a deer’s. He glanced up and saw Willow standing with her eyes closed, rubbing her temples. He shook out a few more kernels of grain, tied the top with a leather thong, and set the burlap bag aside before he went back to Willow.

  “Headache?” he asked quietly.

  She lowered her hands almost guiltily. “Just a little. It’s much better than it was in the pass.”

  “Here. Let me.”

  Whatever objections Willow might have had vanished at the slow, circular motion of Caleb’s thumbs on her temples.

  “Relax if you can,” he said. “The tighter your muscles are, the more it hurts.”

  Willow made a small sound that was more an expression of enjoyment than a word as Caleb slid his fingers over her head and massaged her scalp, loosening knots she didn’t even know she had. Strong, gentle, skillful, his hands rubbed away pain until she sagged with relief. With small pressures of his fingertips, he urged her closer until she was all but leaning against him. Her forehead dipped farther and farther, finally coming to rest against his breastbone.

  Belatedly, Willow realized that Caleb had opened his shirt against the heat of the mountain sun. Her forehead was resting on his bare, warm flesh. The dark thatch of hair on his chest tickled her nose and mouth. When she breathed in, the scent of wool shirt and horse and man filled her senses. She sighed and rubbed her face against him, liking the feel of his masculine textures on her cheek.

  “That feels so good,” Willow said, moving her head slowly, increasing the pressure of Caleb’s hands rubbing away pain.

  “Good,” he said, enjoying the warmth of her breath against his bare skin.

  For a time there was silence. Then Willow sighed again and spoke.

  “I’ll never be able to repay you.”

  He laughed. “I’ll let you rub my head in return.”

  “I meant for my mares. Thank you, Caleb.”

  “They were too good to lose over something that wasn’t their fault.”

  “I know,” she said simply. “It was mine.”

  Caleb smoothed the back of his fingers over Willow’s temples. “You didn’t build these mountains, honey. God did.”

  She smiled sadly. “But I hired a mountain guide and then refused to listen to his advice. I came very close to killing my beautiful mares who had done nothing except follow where I led them. They would have died if you hadn’t gone back for them. I couldn’t have done it. I tried, but…” Her voice broke.

  “Hush, honey. It’s not your fault.”

  She shook her head and whispered, “I wasn’t strong enough. You were. You didn’t have to go after them, but you went anyway, even though you’d had hardly any sleep in days.”

  Caleb’s hands hesitated on Willow’s temples, then he resumed slowly stroking her forehead. Her willingness to accept responsibility for the choices she made continued to surprise him. He had known few men and fewer women who didn’t pass the blame when things turned out badly and grab the praise when things went well.

  The longer Caleb was around Willow, the more he realized she was acustomed to taking care of herself and anyone else who was nearby. She was a far cry from the spoiled southern lady he had first thought her to be.

  God must have been asleep when He let Willow go to a heel like Reno. She’s too damn good for him. She can’t know what Reno’s like or she never would have given herself to him. I’ll be doing her a favor when I bury that son of a bitch.

  She’ll be my woman before she sees him again. I’m not leaving this valley until Willow is mine in a way that nothing can change, not even the death of her fancy man.

  “Thank you for my mares, Caleb,” Willow repeated quietly, resting her head against his chest. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

  “Willow,” Caleb whispered.

  She opened her eyes and tilted her head back until she could see him. The glints of color in her hazel depths had never seemed more beautiful to Caleb than at that moment.

  “You saved my life when Deuce was shot,” he said. “You brought me ammunition and fought beside me afterward. You don’t owe me anything at all.”

  “And how many times have you saved my life since we left Denver?”

  “That’s different.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes.” Caleb bent and brushed a kiss over Willow’s lips. “That’s what you hired me to do.”

  “You’re very good at your work…and at other things as well.”

  Willow had been thinking of his care for the horses, but the instant the words were out of her mouth, she thought of other things he was breathtakingly good at. Color flooded her cheeks.

  Caleb smiled crookedly and teased her lips with the tip of his tongue. “Really?” he asked. “What things are those?”

  “You know very well what they are,” she muttered.

  “No, I don’t,” he said, shaking his head. The motion brushed kisses over her mouth. “Tell me.”

  Willow looked away and wished she would learn to think before she spoke. She had never been particularly impulsive before she met Caleb. But since she had met him, she was forever admitting to things that made her blush.

  “I bet it’s that I’m good at finding riding clothes for you in the middle of nowhere,” Caleb suggested.

  Willow’s lips quirked in a small smile. She looked up at Caleb through long, dark amber eyelashes. “That’s one of the things.”

  “And finding saddles.”

  Her
smiled widened. “Yes.”

  “And catching trout.”

  Color stained her cheekbones.

  “Is that it, Willow?” Caleb asked. His hands moved from her temples to just below her ribs. His muscles shifted and flexed as he lifted her slowly until she was at eye level. “Is that one of the things you think I’m good at? Catching trout?”

  She nodded and said huskily, “You’re especially good at that.”

  For the space of several heartbeats Caleb looked hungrily at Willow’s full pink lips. Then he bent and took them in a swift, searing kiss that made her stiffen in surprise. His tongue slid between her lips to the smooth surface of her clenched teeth.

  “Open for me,” he whispered. “Let me taste all that warm honey.”

  He nipped at her lower lip. When she gasped in surprise, he twisted his head and took her mouth, teasing her tongue with his own until she trembled between his hands. At last, she sighed and touched her tongue lightly, shyly along his, returning the kiss. Willow’s odd combination of reticence and response reminded Caleb of his promise to himself—that the next time he kissed Willow, it would be because she asked for him.

  But he hadn’t been able to wait. Slowly, reluctantly, cursing the passion Willow aroused so effortlessly in him, Caleb lifted his head. When he opened his eyes, she was watching his lips with wonder.

  “Is kissing one of the things I’m good at?” Caleb asked hungrily.

  Willow turned a shade of pink that was as deep as her lips. “Caleb!”

  “If I’m not good, tell me what I’m doing wrong. I want to please you, Willow. I want to pleasure you all the way to your soul. I want that,” he whispered against her mouth, “very much.”

  The trembling of Willow’s lips beneath his own as she whispered his name was the sweetest thing Caleb had ever felt. Despite the hunger that poured in hot waves through his body, he made the kiss gentle, undemanding, taking nothing that she didn’t first give to him.

  The chaste kiss surprised Willow, for she could feel the passionate tension in Caleb’s hard body. His restraint also reassured her, just as his willingness to stop touching her earlier had. Nor had he seemed angry when he stopped this morning. He had been angry the other time, when he had combed her hair and kissed her so deeply and touched the soft flesh no man had ever touched before. Stopping then had made him furious.