by Jenna Kernan
A rumbling growl sounded in his throat, like the low, satisfied purr of a great mountain lion. He drew back, causing her to cry out at the loss of the warm and wonderful pressure. With quick expertise, he released the ribbon closure of her robe and slipped it from her shoulders.
She was surprised at her own impatience for the velvety glide of skin on skin.
He stepped away to drop his shirt on the floor beside her discarded robe. He tugged off his boots and trousers. He stood with his back to her for just a moment and she realized that he did not wear any underclothes at all. It confirmed her early assessment that this man had only the thinnest veneer of civility. Beneath the fine clothes, he was rough-edged, tough, and now she wanted to explore every one of those hard edges.
Her mouth went dry and her fingers itched to stroke the cording muscles of his wide back. He turned to face her, letting her see all.
She drew in a breath at the shock of being confronted by his erect male flesh. Her knees wobbled and she lowered herself to sit on the bed. This left her with an even closer view.
He dropped to a crouch before her. “Kate?”
Tentatively, she stroked the nest of dark, curling hair that covered his chest and then moved her hand to caress the warm velvet of his shoulder. The concern left his face, replaced by the fixed stare of a predator about to spring. He would no longer release her. She knew it in her soul. It had gone too far.
Thank God, she thought. Her entire body pulsed with a new and growing desire for him. She needed his hands on her as desperately as she needed the air in her lungs.
Warm fingers pushed her hem above her knee, his thumb drawing circles on the flesh of her inner thigh as he pulled the gauzy lace upward.
She gasped at the sensual pleasure and threw back her head to relish the hungry pressure as his mouth replaced his hand. Warm kisses and hungry strokes of his tongue moved up her thigh, causing the decadent tingling of arousal. She reached back to clasp the bedding, curling her fingers into claws as she wadded the velvet bedcover in her fist.
She felt the slick moisture between her legs and marveled at her need. It was like a madness.
“So soft,” he whispered. “Oh, Kate, I’ve dreamed of this since the first moment I saw you.”
She lowered her head found his dark eyes reflecting raw possessiveness. And still he kissed her, his gaze never leaving hers. Desire roared within her at the erotic sight of him nuzzling her inner thigh, his teeth scoring her tender flesh.
She found the contrast of her pale leg against his brawny arms excited her. She groaned and let herself fall backward onto the mattress. Tiny kisses pressed to her upper thigh as he crawled inch by delicious inch up her body.
Sam was on fire and alive for the first time in years. He experienced everything—the quivering of her flesh as his lips brushed along her leg, the soft downy hair sprinkling her thigh, the sweet taste of her skin and the arousing scent of her sex.
He stroked her and kissed her as he moved with slow deliberation. She arched to meet him as if longing for his touch.
He kissed the bony ridge of her pelvis through the thin lace of her nightgown, up the soft, gentle mound of her belly to the sharp angle of her ribs.
Her body was firm in the right places and soft and yielding in others. He pressed her down to the mattress with his hips as he continued to scale her body.
He throbbed with need for her, but longed to watch her face when she came. He stroked the soft swell of her breasts, spreading his fingers wide to claim her. Her breathing grew frantic. He wished he could see her more clearly as she arched and panted. Another time, he promised himself, for there would be a next time, and a next, he knew for certain. This was not a woman he could easily set aside. Oh, no. This was a woman to savor, cherish and keep. He untied the silver ribbons, opening the lace to reveal her white skin. He stroked her breasts and she arched to meet him, her nipples pebbling under his palms. He took one dark tip into his mouth, drawing and sucking. He reveled at her reaction, as she writhed beneath him like a madwoman. He had brought on the madness that was both torment and delight and all because he had waited for her to come to him.
And she had. Thank the Lord.
His hips pinned her and she arched her soft belly against his erection, making him gasp. How he wanted to drive into her now, again and again. He knew she was wet, ready.
Not yet. He’d see to her pleasure first.
He turned and captured her other nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking with rough strokes.
Mewling sounds came from deep in her throat and her fingers raked his back, clenching and unclenching in a rhythmic dance of need. He stroked her thigh, moving up to the short, curling hairs, finding her cleft silken and damp. Still he would not have her yet. He would watch her take her pleasure and in doing so he would increase his own. He meant to replace every bad memory she ever had with this fire that roared between them.
Her face glistened with moisture, making her skin shine like the surface of the moon.
She was impatient, tugging at his shoulders, scoring his back with her nails and lifting her hips insistently. It was a command he could not resist. He pressed her back to the mattress using his fingers to stroke her most sensitive places.
He knew she was close from the change in her breathing and the restless toss of her head. His fingers danced over her slick flesh as he watched her.
“Please, please,” she cried.
He rolled away, reaching for the drawer beside his bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice breathless.
If he told her, it might cool her ardor. He reached for one of the paper packets and tore it open with his teeth, quickly sliding the thin skin sheath over his erection. Unlike his father—the bastard—he’d not bring another unwanted child into this world.
It took only a moment before he was beside her again, pressing her down to the bed, kissing her neck. She welcomed him, spreading her legs as he slipped between her thighs.
He poised himself at her cleft, restraining the need to thrust deep, as he eased slowly forward. Was her cry that of pleasure or pain? He closed his eyes and prayed he had not hurt her as he held himself motionless, waiting.
She wrapped her legs about his hips and drew them together in one sharp pull, removing all doubt. Something broke loose inside him. All his good intentions of gentle loving shattered inside him like glass. He gripped her buttocks, so she could not escape him, thrusting deeply into her soft, yielding body. Her passage was so tight and slick. He drove her down to the mattress again and again as he buried his face in the warm, sweet scent of her neck.
No, no, he had not wanted this. This was not the patient lover he had vowed to be.
“Faster,” she cried.
He squeezed his eyes shut in relief and did as she commanded. For the first time he was glad for the thin skin sheath as it made it possible for him to last longer. Her gasps grew sharp and her strong legs scaled higher until she clung to his waist. She drove him mad. He moved faster as she met his driving force with yielding heat. Then she began an upward thrust of her own, gripping him with her legs, doubling the speed of the gliding friction between them.
He lifted to his elbows and captured her tossing head in his palms.
“Kate. Look at me. I want to see you come.”
Her eyes flew open and he drove deep into her.
She stared up at him as he continued to plunge into her. Kate’s eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open as the cry erupted from her beautiful lips. He felt her rolling contraction, squeezing him. It was his undoing. He threw his head back and gritted his teeth against the rush of pleasure that poured through him as he came.
Her body went slack a moment before he collapsed upon her. She was so small he felt he might crush her. He used the last of his strength to roll aside, drag off the preventative before gathering her to his chest. She flopped against him like a child’s rag doll.
Light from the moon cut a silver swath across t
he bed, making her damp skin glitter like diamonds and painting her dark hair silver. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. He traced the slight blue veins that feathered across her closed eyelids. She was more beautiful than ever at this moment.
Her eyelids fluttered and opened. Their eyes met. He held his breath. Never in his life had he wanted to have pleased a woman more. She gave him a smile of pure contentment. He felt her stretch, her toes curling against his legs. Her eyes dropped closed and she nestled to his chest. He grabbed the edge of the coverlet and flipped it over her, cradling her tight to his body.
She had initially intrigued him and his curiosity had led him to her door. His curiosity was now sated, but not his desire. Lord help him, it had grown even more keen. He feared he’d never get enough of her. How could a man ever grow tired of this?
His stomach knotted as he recognized that she was not a woman he could work out of his system, not a woman he would tire of, not a woman he could discard. Reflexively, his grip upon her tightened as he recognized that this was a woman he would defend against all challengers and keep as long as she would have him.
Infatuation. Perhaps that was what it had been. But it felt different than any other woman of his past. Just the thought of separating from Kate made him ache.
She had made it clear she did not want him permanently, making him delineate their severance agreement before he had even bedded her.
Her words echoed in his mind. I have something more valuable than money. My independence.
How did he convince her to stay? Marriage was the obvious way to claim a woman. He’d never thought to find one he wished to wed and now she’d robbed him of the possibility before he even considered it. She had so much as told him she would never marry again.
Sam stroked her hair from her face and kissed her brow as she slept. He wouldn’t give her up, marriage or no. He didn’t need her for a wife, so long as he could be with her.
You don’t deserve her. You ain’t fit for anyone, let alone a woman a fine as this.
His jaw clenched. He had told her about Randy and she had not been shocked. Kate had simply listened and sympathized without judging.
Don’t be stupid. No woman would want a man who had done what you have.
Sam studied her sleeping form.
This woman might. This woman who knew the pain of loss, who had lived with the guilt of her sister’s death and the brutality of marriage to Lawrence Wells. This woman had been forged in fire. A survivor—like him. She just might accept him, despite what he had done on this very mountain.
He closed his eyes and prayed he was right.
Chapter Thirteen
K ate basked in the glow of perfect satisfaction. Beneath her ear, Sam’s heart beat a calm, steady rhythm. A wonderful lethargy made her feel heavy, as if filled with warm, wet sand. She had just enough energy to curl her lips into a smile.
How was it that a married woman was only now discovering the joys of the flesh? Her smile flickered as she recognized how jaded her opinions of men had become and how wrong.
She used one finger to stroke the nest of curling hair that ran down the center of Sam’s chest. This man had given her a precious gift. He had seen to her pleasure and taught her things about her own body she never even suspected. She was worldly enough to know that this was rare. It made her wistful for things she would never have, like a life with Sam.
It was public knowledge that Sam Pickett never stayed with any woman for long. His trail of discarded liaisons was as legendary as was his firm affirmation to remain unattached. She did not doubt that their affair would end, now that the chase had ended. How long until his ardor cooled?
She had offered a challenge, perhaps, but his conquest of her had been complete. They would share a few days or weeks and then he would send her off with a parting gift to soften the blow. Mistresses had no protection, but neither did they have any obligation to stay with a man who mistreated them. Wasn’t that what she wanted?
Twenty-four hours ago she had believed with her whole heart that her autonomy was her greatest possession, but at this moment she felt uncertain. Freedom was a gift, but it seemed cold company compared to the comfort she found in this man’s arms.
Kate clung to him, fighting the drowsiness that crept over her until she yielded, at last, to sleep.
She woke in the morning to discover they had not drawn the blinds. Sunlight streamed in, filling the chamber with rosy light.
She shifted, rolling away from Sam. But he followed, turning to his side and gathering her so that his chest blanketed her back. He curled his legs and her bottom pressed into his lap. Then he began to stroke her.
She found her voice was low and hoarse. “Well, no wonder.”
“No wonder, what?” His voice had the appealing grumble of a sleepy man.
“No wonder you can have any woman you like.”
He chuckled. “You thought it was the money?”
“Of course.”
He cupped her breast. “I’m not the only man who can do that, you know.”
She slid her foot along his shin. “Perhaps not, but you’re the only one who has ever done it to me.”
“Want me to do it again?”
She nodded. “Definitely.”
He drew the lacy gown from her shoulders. She turned to assist him. Then he tossed it aside casually.
“Do you know how much that cost?” she asked, failing to sound as stern as she intended.
“Worth every penny. Only thing I’d rather see you in is nothing at all.”
He flipped back the coverlet to see her in the morning light. She had never been shy or prim, just cautious of men and their appetites. But Sam had changed all that. She watched his eyes devour her and the muscles of his jaw clench. He wanted her again and that suited her.
She gave a long, languid stretch and a low rumble emanated from his throat.
He stroked down the center of her breastbone from her throat to her navel.
“So beautiful,” he whispered.
He lay on his side caressing her with feathery touches, while she admired the thick muscles of his torso and the dark curling hair that covered his chest. His leg was thrown possessively across her hips so she could not see all of him, but she could feel him, growing hard, pressing against her thigh.
Soon the touches were not enough. She writhed against him and he smiled in satisfaction. His mouth moved to her neck and then down to her breasts. She grew more anxious for him until her impatience caused her to grasp at his hip and pull.
He laughed and she struck him on the shoulder with her open hand.
“Brute.”
“Impatient wench,” he countered.
Then he rolled to his back and folded his hands behind his head. “You want it? Take it.”
What did that mean? Did he expect her to drag him over her like a coverlet? She was flummoxed.
His forehead wrinkled. “Kate, you know that you can take me, as well, don’t you?”
Now she felt stupid, ignorant as a virgin. Her cheeks grew hot.
“Here now,” he said, stroking her face. “I’ll show you.”
He slid to the edge of the bed for a moment, opened a drawer and returned with a paper packet, which he handed to her. Then he lay beside her on his back.
“What is this?” she asked.
“It’s a skin sheath. It covers me so you won’t have a baby.”
She dropped the thing as if it were on fire.
“That’s immoral.” She then recalled that sleeping with a man outside of marriage was equally immoral.
His brow descended. “No. Immoral is bringing an unwanted child into the world.”
Unwanted—like he was. She understood it all now. He was trying to protect her. Trying to keep another child from suffering what he had suffered.
“Yes, that’s so.”
“Do you want me to use it or would you rather risk the alternative?”
She took up the packet again. “Use it.”
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br /> He tore it open and showed her how to put it on him. It looked uncomfortable.
He clasped her hips and pulled her up until she straddled his thighs. She lay across his chest, her belly pressing his erection flat between them.
“Sit up,” he urged.
She did. He placed his hands at her waist urging her up. She rose to her knees and suddenly it all became clear.
“Oh!” she said.
“Oh,” he repeated, and gave her a devilish smile.
She lowered herself onto him. The sensation of settling over him was so pleasurable she gasped. She sank lower, relishing the sliding friction as he filled her. She noted that the smile had left his face and his muscles were now knotted in an effort to keep still.
She liked the control this position afforded her and the power to make him wait. She smiled down at him.
“Now what?” she asked, and then spoiled it by laughing.
His mouth quirked, but he did not manage a smile. “Now you start to move or I throw you onto your back.”
“Ah, an ultimatum. I choose the former.” She lifted her hips and began a slow rocking. Sam’s eyes closed and he arched to the mattress.
The muscles of his throat corded and he ground his teeth. It appeared as if she was torturing him. She leaned forward until her swaying breasts swept over his chest. He groaned.
She bared her teeth and scored his neck, then moved to do to him what he had done to her. She licked his flat nipple and was astonished to see it bud, just as hers had done. She sucked it and the growl grew louder.
His hands came up to capture her hips. She straightened, realizing he was no longer in a mood to play. He began to move, lifting up as he held her down. Again and again he bucked against her. She arched back, trusting him to hold her, as the cresting wave built within her once more. She cried out as she came and his cry followed just behind her own. He held her still as he locked himself deep inside her.