by Jillian Hart
He moved over her, as if he were made to be there. The push of his hard, thick shaft forced her open, not roughly but inexorably, and the feel of him filling her, completely wounding her anew in her heart. A wound of deep love that hurt as it healed, that burned as it shone.
She felt his overwhelming love, the force of it, the pulse of it as he cupped her hip and showed her how to move with him. Creating a rhythm that tightened her around him like a new bud, clenching tighter and tighter against the sun. She held him so tight, and his kiss grazed her brow, her face, her lips.
Reverent, that’s what he felt. A love so huge nothing could extinguish it. Being with her like this, having her wrapped around him in every way, clinging to his shoulders, his hips, her satin heat gloving him as he pumped harder and harder, it was meant to be. Fated. He could feel it with his body, with his heart, with his soul.
Overcome, he touched her face. Oh, so beautiful. She was incredibly beautiful to him. What a lucky man he was to have her as his wife. To have her trust him and love him. His passionate, loving wife. He buried his face in her hair and moved beyond feeling when he felt her begin to break around him, the first tight pulse of her release like hot, wet silk fisting him. That she would trust him like this, surrender like this, carried him beyond words.
He drummed harder, faster, coming as she did, crying out as she did, spilling all he was into her, his love, his seed. She cherished him with kisses to his throat and the side of his face. Honored him with the graze of her fingertips across his back. Her tenderness changed him, made him better, stronger, renewed.
“I love you, Katelyn.” Breathless, resting thick and heavy inside her, he kept her against him. Touched her face. Opened his soul. “To think that I’m here with you like this. I love you so very much.”
“I love you, too.”
She’d never known anything like the gentle bliss as the passion cooled in her blood and they rested together, joined, touching. He ran his forefinger down her nose, over the rise of her lips and into the dimple at her chin. Then lower to take her breasts and tease her nipple.
Pleasure rose through her like flames to the sky, higher and higher. His mouth closed over her nipple and she arched her back to offer him more. And felt his thickness inside her swell and harden.
She’d never dreamed love could be like this. She let him love her again, sweeter this time. Slower. A joining not only of bodies but, incredibly, of hearts.
Chapter Fifteen
The prairie looked crisp and new and the inch from last night’s snowfall crunched beneath their shoes. Katelyn felt cherished as she walked beside Dillon, her fingers entwined with his. The closeness from their lovemaking lingered between them like a warm blanket nestling them both.
As they walked, horses rushed up to the fence line. Dillon stopped and offered pats to each mare and their peppermint rewards. He took the time to teach Katelyn their names. Beautiful, pedigreed names for the purebreds. Fitting, western ones for the pintos and Appaloosas. Finally they moved on.
Snow broke from the sky above, tiny, frosted flakes that fell straight from heaven. They clung to Katelyn’s hair and eyelashes, and sneaked down the back of her collar to make her shiver.
Dillon drew her close to mumble in her ear. “I could always warm you up.”
“Oh? And how would you do that?”
“By lifting those skirts of yours, my sweet, and making your blood burn.” He nipped her earlobe, making pleasure skid along her nerve endings. “You just say the word, and I’ll be happy to oblige you.”
“Happy to? I suppose there’s nothing you gain from the experience.”
“Only the satisfaction of pleasuring you. I live to serve you, my love.”
“Aren’t you a true gentleman? Putting a lady’s needs above your own.”
“I sure hope so. You tell me.”
“Well, I may need you to satisfy me again. Practice makes perfect.”
“That’s not true, because you are already perfection.” He brushed a few flyaway curls from her eyes. She leaned into the affectionate stroke of his finger-tips, loving his tender strength.
What a man. She floated with love for him. Were her feet touching the ground? She was certain they weren’t, that he made her walk on air. Her body felt well loved, a new and wonderful sensation. Desire for him, to have him inside her, coiled within her.
How could she already want him? Yet her body was ready for him, wet and trembling and alive. The way only he could make her.
“Hey, pretty girl.” Dillon welcomed the gray mare with his hands, holding her big, comely head against his chest as he stroked her cheeks and jaw.
The mare he’d rescued, who’d been beaten. Katelyn held out her hand and the Arabian shied, stepping back, skin flicking over her taut, powerful muscles.
“Easy, girl,” Dillon said, switching to his grandfather’s language, the lilting music speaking to the mare’s soul and calming her.
Katelyn saw the harsh scars raked into the animal’s back and rump. At least three dozen of them, ugly and ragged. The poor thing. Those were made by the angry lash of a bullwhip, reminding her that all of these horses were unwanted or abused or homeless.
Was that why Dillon had chosen her? Doubt fluttered in her chest. Did he love her? Or was she someone to save? Someone who needed rescuing and sheltering? Like these mares.
Somehow that made his love for her less. Made her unsure as he released his hold on her to dig more peppermint from his jacket pockets.
“Hello there, Spirited One.” Dillon held two treats, one in each hand. “He’s angry because I’ve ignored him. I usually come see him several times throughout the morning. Today, I had to buy more peppermint. But going to town isn’t the reason I’m late.”
He tossed her a sideways glance and blushed. The memory of his lovemaking sizzled through her, making her hot when she ought to be freezing.
The stallion watched and waited, not pacing today, just watching. Quivering.
“He can’t be happy with me. I brought him here. Caged him in.”
“Doesn’t he resent you for it?”
“Maybe a little.” Honest, Dillon held out both hands, waiting. “He knows I’m helping him, and he’s grateful, but he’s not the kind of animal anyone can pen in for long.”
The stallion lifted his head, his wide nostrils flaring, scenting the candy. Debating.
“You’re going to lure him close with the peppermint and then rope him, aren’t you?”
Dillon realized she wasn’t only speaking of her fears for the stallion. “If I trick him, I teach him I’m not a man he can trust.”
“But you need to break him. You’ll have to trick him sometime.”
“Never. I don’t trick horses. Ever. Besides, I told you all I want to do is help this stallion. I swore that to you, remember?”
“I know.”
“Did you think I’d forgotten?”
“No. That never crossed my mind.”
“Good.” He hauled her against his chest, turning her so he spooned her and protected her from the wind. All she had to do was lean against him and he sheltered her from the elements, held her up and kept her steady as the stallion ventured close, wary, enticed by the candy Dillon offered once again.
Snug in his arms, she waited with him. Watched, spellbound, as the stunning creature ambled forward. She noticed the gash on the animal’s shoulder, where the bullet had grazed him, for the first time. A large scab marked his black coat. “Is that the bullet wound?”
“Yep. My brother and I had a hard time holding him to get the bullet out and lancing it.” Dillon’s chin rested on the crown of her head, light and affectionate, and nestled against him she felt wanted.
Loved. Valued. A month ago it had been unthinkable that any decent man would want her.
And this man, the most decent and honorable of them all, wanted her. Just her.
Dillon spoke in the magical language, as it sounded, of gentle words and sounds that eased the worry
from her heart. Made bearable the wounds in her soul. She watched the stallion stand taller and the shadows ease from his eyes. It was the emotion behind the words, she realized, the steady affection that any creature wanted.
Especially her. Grateful, she kissed Dillon’s jaw and he grinned at her, lopsided and handsome. So very handsome. How was it that he became more dear to her and more attractive with every day that passed?
Because I love him. It was true. The warm, bursting affection, the emotion that thrilled through her when they touched. She kissed him again.
“Be careful what you start, ma’am, because I’m the man who will finish the job.” He was still erect, his hardness something she began to think about more and more. How treasured he’d made her feel. And he wanted her again. So soon.
Does he really want me that much? It seemed incredible, and she closed off the memory of another man, who had turned away from her touch. Who had come to her at night out of duty. Whose touch had not sparked a connection within her and whose kiss had not lit a fire of want and need.
Dillon was making her love him, the same way he charmed the horses with words and gentle touches, and she could not stop the current of feelings drowning her with need and caring. The stallion reached over the top fence rail, warily, but beginning to believe he would come to no harm, and stole the treats from Dillon’s hand. Crunching greedily, he backed away.
“Good boy,” Dillon praised in the magic voice that swept through her, knocking down every defense, and laid her bare. She was as vulnerable as the sand to the ocean tide, and he was sweeping her away.
“One day he’s going to stay close and ask for another piece. We’ve got him interested. He’ll start negotiating soon.”
“Negotiating?”
“He wants something, and we want something. I’ve started with the peppermint. He likes it and wants it, and I want him to get used to coming to me when I show up. So it’s mutual. That’s how it starts, the partnership between him and us.” Dillon pulled a wrapped disc from his pocket. “Want one?”
“Well, I do have a sweet tooth.”
“Lucky me.” He unwrapped the candy and focused on her mouth.
She parted her lips before he moved. The candy slid across her bottom lip and over the tops of her teeth. His fingertip followed, stroking craftily along the sensitive surface of her mouth.
“Good?” When she nodded, he blushed, growing bashful. “Why, thank you, ma’am. I’m glad you think so.”
He kissed her with great care, so she could feel what sang in his heart.
It had been a wonderful day. Katelyn glowed with contentment as she looked over the top of her book and across the breadth of the hearth where Dillon was stretched out on the length of the couch. His brows frowned in concentration, the thick book standing on end in the center of his chest, lost in reading.
I love him. She felt like a bird caught on an uprising wind, lifting her frighteningly fast and far from the solid, reliable earth. Drawing her so far up, where she’d never flown before.
She loved a thousand things about him. He was handsome and gentle and as steadfast as the mountains. He was shy and confident, all at once. He was strong and smart and good-hearted. He made her content just to be in the same room with him. He made her feel with a part of her she didn’t know existed. So new and fragile.
He turned the page with a rustle of paper that warred with the pleasant crackle of the fire. She looked around the room, sparse and in need of a woman’s touch, but it was snug on this cold winter’s eve. It was home.
How long has it been since I’ve felt safe and loved? Katelyn hugged the book to her chest, thumbing through all the years in her mind. The years of loneliness and unhappiness married to Brett. The bleak decade after her mother had married Cal Willman. The lean, desperate times after her father’s death when her mother could not make ends meet and crumbled beneath the burden of it.
A long time.
The clock bonged the hour ten times from the emptiness of the dark kitchen, echoing through the house and stirring Dillon from his reading. He watched her over the top of his book.
“It’s damn good to have you here in my parlor.” He grinned, that bashful, self-conscious smile of his that made him appear both vulnerable and invincible. A tough western man with a tender soul.
“It’s good to be here.”
“Yeah?” One brow quirked, as if he were surprised. “Then you don’t regret marrying me.”
“This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Her confession stunned him. Dillon marked his page and put the book aside, overwhelmed with the emotion flaring to life inside him. He’d seen it over and over again, and he didn’t know how wealthy people could be so poor.
He could see it in Katelyn, the devastation of it, the wonder in her eyes whenever he held her, as if surprised he’d want to do that. As if it had never occurred to her that any man would desire and cherish her.
It made him furious how she’d been treated. He could see the wariness in her as he climbed to his feet and grabbed the poker from the iron hook. Wariness. She’d been hurt, and he hoped to high heaven that she didn’t think he’d ever hurt her.
Maybe, he reasoned, hers was a deeper kind of distrust. That she wondered if he would be good to her for the long haul of a marriage, the day in and day out of it. The tough times that inevitably came along through the cycles of a lifetime.
I’ll show you. I’ll teach you that there are some things that can never be broken. His love for her was one of them. He broke apart the crumbly logs and watched the embers glow and brighten as air hit them.
That’s what he needed to do. Break apart those dark places in her heart. Give them light and air. Let them glow until there was no more doubt, no more fear. He would show Katelyn what her husband was made of.
And she would come to believe it.
His ankle popped. His knee creaked. Being a horseman was a demanding job. And now that he had Katelyn in his life, he wouldn’t need to be on the road, traveling from job to job.
For the first time in a while, he had a real home. And the woman of his dreams to share it with.
There was just one problem. And it was an enormous one. He was a direct man, practical, who took life one step at a time. And so that’s what he’d done with Katelyn. First he’d concentrated on helping her, making sure she got a chance to know him. Then he worked on getting her to marry him. And now that she was here, he wanted her to love him, genuine and true and forever. The way he loved her.
The trouble was, the thing he hadn’t considered was that she needed him. He’d given her a choice in the hotel room-money to last her at least a year if she used it wisely or his wedding ring. She’d chosen him, and he was damn glad. Damn proud to have her in his life. That was for absolute certain.
But would she be happy here? Or would she grow discontent after the novelty of learning to cook and keep house wore off, like polish on a new shoe, and begin wishing for her old life with a cook and maids and a fancy lifestyle to amuse her?
She was like a priceless china figurine on a handmade wooden shelf. She didn’t belong here, even though she wore his ring on her hand. A symbol of the vows she’d made to him. A promise to love him forever.
Would it be possible? She might not even intend for it to happen. Feelings changed sometimes. They did, without explanation, without meaning for it to happen.
Time would tell, he figured. And in the meantime, he’d do what he could to bind her to him. To love her so hard and true, it might make her belong here. Belong to him rightfully and forever without question.
“Hey, ready to go up to bed?” He lifted the book out of her hands gently. If she protested, he’d give it back.
She sparkled, like the first star in a night sky, tentative but unable to hold back the light. “I suppose it is getting late.”
Was that her roundabout way of saying she wanted this night to be different than the others? Please.
He’d been hard all e
vening. All he had to do was be alone with her. Showing her how to boil potatoes on the stove, cooking side by side and being able to touch her, just touch her, run his hand across her back as he reached around her for a hot pad to lift the kettle lid with. To stop and breathe in the scent of her hair and shampoo as he set the beef steaks to frying.
He was harder now and wanted her with a fierceness that he’d never felt. A hunger unparalleled. He set the book on the floor with a thud and held out his hand. She rose from the chair, a sensual womanly movement that stirred his desire. Her fingertips lightly stroked the center of his palm as she grabbed his hand that kindled his need for her.
And led him up the stairs. This night would be different. He was going to get to hold her all night long, her nakedness against his. Desire crackled through him, roaring hotter and higher.
He watched the sway of her fanny beneath that pretty calico dress. And the curve of her neck and the subtle sway of her perfect breasts, which moved with her every step.
I’m a lucky man. Without a single doubt. She was like grace come into his life, a haven from the pain of loneliness. A balm to a deeper wound he hadn’t been aware of until now.
The wound of not being loved. It was an unhappiness that was gone, and looking back, he could see how discontent he had been. It was why he moved from ranch to ranch, always traveling. To cover up the fear that no woman would ever think he was good enough to love.
Katelyn loved him. She’d said so, and he’d felt the truth of it. He was still afraid she might change her mind.
And now that he had a sample of what it was like to be loved by her, why, it was paradise. How could he go back to living without her?
He couldn’t. It was as simple as that.
As Katelyn led him into their bedroom and searched through the dark for matches to light the lamp, he lifted her braid and kissed the sensitive spot just above her collar.
She drew in a surprised intake of breath, as if she hadn’t expected this but liked it. She leaned against him, already surrendering, already wanting.