AnUnlikelyHeroAmazon

by Cindy Nord

  A rough pull burned her nakedness against his hard length. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve wanted you,” he grated against her silken flesh. “My beautiful Princess.”

  “Yes…yours,” she rasped. “Forever.”

  Dillon cupped her breasts, skimmed his thumbs over her nipples, teasing, taunting. Her. Him. He bent and suckled, cherishing the sweet and salty tang of her against his tongue, craving every luscious flavor that spiced this flawless woman.

  Their breathing accelerated, matched only by the other’s frantic need. He was finished with the wait. He lifted her, and with a throaty gasp, Alma tunneled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

  As if she’d been born for this moment, she curled around him.

  In three steps, he took her to his bed.

  With infinite possession, he laid Alma across the blanket and leaned over her, staring into her eyes that held his, beckoning, their bewitching blue ablaze. He ran his hands into her hair as further down, his body pulsed for damnable release. “You are my life, Alma. Know that, always and forever.”

  “I know, and you are min–”

  Again, he kissed her, heat burned through his veins. He claimed her, his tongue plundered deeper, teasing, until she gripped his shoulders, groaning beneath his pressure. He shifted, kissing her mouth, her face, dipping lower to nip her collarbone. Months of forbidden now stoked the flame that raged inside him. He cupped her head, drawing her closer. “I’ll teach you how your body was born to respond to me,” he breathed into her ear. “Tonight and every night that follows.”

  He released her and on a deep breath stood, never breaking their gaze. With a shrug of his shoulders, he shucked his shirt. A heartbeat later, his denims followed.

  Boldly, he stood before her.

  Her gaze lowered, her eyes widening. A second passed, and her lips tipped upward in pleasure. “Oh my.”

  His lips quirked sideways, pleased with her guiltless approval. “I mentioned I was a bad boy, remember?” he chuckled, his tone deep and gravelly. “This right here affirms that, my love.”

  Her gaze enchanted him.

  “I love new discoveries, you beast” she whispered, reaching up for him. “And I’m not one bit afraid with you.”

  The iron bed creaked as he stretched beside her, drawing her close. A beast, indeed. And she a precious innocent. He slicked his hand down her body, then back to cup her breasts. Sensuous. Silky. Pure perfection against his calloused palms.

  An easy pull brought her closer.

  He bent his head and buried his face in her hair, thrilled to be the one to show her the revelations that awaited. “There’ll be pain at first, Princess…but only for a moment. Know this: For the precious gift you give me this night, I will cherish you as long as I draw breath.”

  He reclaimed her lips and ground his body against hers. Arching her against him, eager in his quest. Dillon suckled her breast, worshipping her, nipping and licking and relishing every second with this angel. Bliss waited. He reclaimed her lips, then angled back, gazing down at her kiss-swollen lips. She slid a fingertip over his cheek, then down his stubbled jaw to his mouth.

  His lips tilted up.

  Alma continued, her lashes lowering, skimming her hand over his chin and chest, his stomach, and lower.

  He hissed, the blistering ache inside him begging for relief.

  She paused, her gaze locking on his. “I want to…”

  “Yes, God yes…touch me,” he pleaded. He guided her hand where he wanted her fingers to go. As she wrapped him in her warm grip, he gave a sharp hiss. His body pulsed against her boldness. “You’ve claimed me…forever.”

  Tears of joy misted her eyes. “Now, you claim me and make me yours…forever.”

  On a coarse moan, Dillon slid his bare leg over hers, and the feel of her silken flesh sent another shiver upward. Her skin pebbled beneath the sweep of his hands. She moaned and he shifted, adjusting his weight. He ran a hand up her thigh, over her breasts, until he found the swollen nipple and flicked his thumb over the hard nub, squeezing, teasing the gateway to heaven.

  She gasped and arched against him. “Dillon,” she rasped. “Please…”

  She beseeched for more, and the thrill of her plea ripped through him. A demanding force consumed him as her sweet essence enveloped him, provocative and beguiling. Dillon obeyed her brazen beckon. Bracing himself above her, nudging her legs wider, her peered into her eyes. “Breathe in my love…” She obeyed and he sank into her slick warmth. At the fragile barrier he paused.

  The honor of being her first banished his hesitation. He drove deeper.

  Her breath caught, followed by a soft, sweet gasp.

  And he stilled, treasuring this woman more for her precious and perfect gift. Once her body began to relax, with care he set a smooth, rhythmic pace, slowly building. Dillon guided her legs around him, and their breathing fused.

  As he knew they would be, their bodies were a masterpiece of one.

  “Move with me, baby,” he urged. And she moaned, answering him with each lift and lower. He pivoted each thrust and she followed his lead into the paradise of a perfect love’s dance. “Yes…like that. Just like that.”

  With unwavering rule, Dillon clutched her hips and deepened his strokes—every single part of him complete. Easy sweet circles. Brushing against her most sensitive spot created for this moment, created just for him.

  “Yes, you feel that, baby,” he ground out, the words ripping from his throat. “I know you do.” She matched his rhythm and speed, learning quickly…gasping her pleasure. Wanting more. Imploring, his name a whisper on his heart. And for each stroke he gave her, for each of her answered thrusts, Dillon’s control further weakened.

  Over and over she moaned his name until, with an indrawn breath, she finally crested, crying out her culmination in deep, unrestrained gasps.

  His blood roared in his ears as the pressure inside Dillon ramped, mounting, refusing containment another moment. And then…on a strangled cry, he followed her, transcending into heaven-scent bliss as he released himself deep inside his princess, his Alma…forevermore his home.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A swath of late-morning sunlight streamed through the cabin’s window illuminating Alma. She secured the first button on her dress as Dillon stepped behind her.

  With a moan, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “How ‘bout you take this damned thing off again.” He nestled his face in her hair. “I’ll show you all the reasons why.”

  Desire tingled along her skin, and Alma drew him tighter against her.

  His lips nuzzled her.

  On a sigh, she closed her eyes, relishing his touch. “You were magnificent last night, my love, and undressed me thrice already this morning. Surely you’ve grown tired of me?”

  “That’ll never happen.” He cupped her breasts. “I now live for you.”

  “I shall never forget with reminders like this.”

  “I’ve a few more things to teach you.” He pulled her with him to the bed.

  She giggled and slipped from his hold. “If I let you have your way, Dillon Reed, we shall be undressed all day.”

  With a chuckle, he stretched across the bed, leaned back and pillowed his head on his arms. “Sounds good to me.”

  Sunlight fell across his naked body. So masculine. So beautiful. So much of everything she’d dreamed this man might be…and more.

  “Well,” he said, his smile slipping, “if I can’t entice you a fourth time with my instructive prowess, allow me to take you to breakfast. Saturday morning means biscuits and gravy over at the hotel restaurant.” A wicked grin lifted his lips. “I’m starvin’ near to death, and the meal will replenish us when we return to resume our…lessons.”

  She laughed, joy cascading through her. “First you think with your…” –her gaze dropped to his impressive length, before lifting— “well…you know. Then your stomach rules your world. I feel keeping up with your ever-shifti
ng whims might drive me crazy.”

  “Good, ‘cause I intend to keep you crazy with want forever.”

  Alma bent over him, bracing her hands on either side of his body. “I’m already there. Now, get up and cover that beast.”

  Without warning, he caught her in his arms and pulled her beside him among the rumpled covers. Tenderness reflected from his eyes. “I need this, need you.”

  A mere breath separated them, brushing warm across her lips. He claimed her mouth, and then…in his skillful way…her lover returned her to paradise. He taught her new things. Lovely things. Things that burned bright as he teased and tasted, savoring every single part of her body…even there.

  With each beat of her heart, Alma treasured this exciting side of loving him. As she reached her summit and tipped, she cried out in bliss.

  Knowing Dillon had brought her hope and new discoveries. A fulfilment she’d never known she needed. With him, she felt free and open. No inhibitions. No stifling society rules.

  Alma rolled onto her side and faced him.

  His lips curved again in that mischievous, utterly charming and irresistible way. “Might be a good thing if you marry me. What do you think?”

  Alma shoved to her knees. A good thing? She stared at him, a soul-deep exhilaration winging through her. “M-Marry?”

  “Well–” He pushed onto an elbow. “–I can’t have you sneakin’ around in the shadows of night anymore.” He tucked a wayward curl off her cheek. “I mean, you might stumble into the wrong cabin, and we can’t have that happening, right?”

  He watched.

  Waited.

  Love for Dillon filled every part of her. Alma was certain he could hear the pounding of her heart. For him, her body heated. Hungered. “We certainly can’t,” she whispered.

  His touch was addictive.

  She craved more…of him, of this happiness, of waking every single day with him for the remainder of her life.

  He sighed. “Sonofabitch…I’ve asked too soon. Too fast. I mean, I realize there’s not a damn thing I can offer that you don’t already have. I wouldn’t fault you if you said no, but…”

  Alma placed her fingertip on his lips. “Stop talking. You’ve given me the one thing I’ll ever need…you. Dillon, I love you, always and only you.”

  With a swift move he brought her beneath him, the breadth of his shoulders blocking out the swatch of sunlight. His dark gaze locked on hers.

  The same heat she felt registered in his eyes. “I love you, too, Princess. Say you’ll marry me. We’ll through life together…somehow.”

  The rough intensity of his words left her trembling. Humbled by his love, looking into his eyes, she saw their past, their present, and every day of their future together. “A thousand times yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’ll marry yo–”

  He caught her lips with gentle warmth and intimacy, his tongue teasing. Yet, intimacy wasn’t only what they’d discovered in this bed…intimacy had also brought them through their arduous journey westward.

  Pleasure mixed with pride inside Alma.

  And for the next half-hour, her soul linked with Dillon’s in complete agreement as her husband-to-be sealed their deal.

  ***

  Two hours later Alma stood in her bedroom at the Palmer’s house, bathed and dressed in one of her stylish Worth creations. With care, she pinned a Wedgewood blue cameo bar at the throat of her gown. Smoothing her hands over the cream-colored Brussels lace collar, she assessed her reflection, the skin tone of her face now golden from time spent in the sun.

  A proper pioneer woman, indeed.

  Having spent the night and early morning being loved by Dillon, she’d expected some outer show of change to match the joy that simmered inside. Yet nothing appeared amiss. She was proper and quite ill-mannered all at the same time.

  A giggle followed.

  Nonetheless, she approved the way her corset lent an elegant curve to her figure. The cotton and horsehair bustle hidden beneath the draping folds of fabric gave a lovely lift to her backside. After wearing the tattered emerald brocade across country for so long, she appreciated even more the rich detailing of the luscious lavender-colored silk.

  Her smile widened.

  Life had taken a turn into a new and most exciting direction, and she was more than ready for her afternoon outing with Dillon. A public statement, for sure, and she couldn’t wait to proclaim their union to the world.

  This was her man and she couldn’t be happier.

  Alma glanced toward the mahogany Fusee wall clock on the far wall. He should be here any minute. As the pendulum tick-tocked alongside her impatience, she added the finishing touches to her upswept chignon, then retrieved her Brussels lace day cap. A tuck of hair pins, and Alma secured the face-framing confection of tufted ribbons, blonde lace, and tiny quail feathers atop her head.

  Dainty lace lappets fell across her shoulders. Perfect. She added expensive, golden filigree drop earrings to emphasize the risqué shading of her skin.

  Refined, yet relaxed.

  Just like the new me.

  A sharp rap sounded at the front entrance as Alma entered the parlor. Inhaling to settle her pounding heart, she opened the door.

  Dread eroded her newfound joy and she frowned. Why had he come? After last night’s skirmish, God help him if Dillon arrived now.

  She had to get him out of here.

  “Lord Green,” she said, clasping her hands before her. “I hadn’t expected you.”

  “Do forgive my boldness, Miss Talmadge,” he said, his thin frame swathed in a pewter-gray frock-coat adored with black velvet collar and cuffs. “I hope I’ve not arrived at an inopportune moment.”

  She scanned the entry walk behind him, then further into the dusty lane for any sign of Dillon. A part of her wished he were here, another was thankful for whatever caused his delay. Her gaze reconnected with the earl’s. “Well, actually, I am preparing for an outing this afternoon.”

  Without an invitation, he stepped across the threshold. “I promise I shan’t be long.”

  Anger at his impropriety faded beneath her guilt about how she’d ended their engagement. She allowed him into the entryway. “Well, I suppose I can afford you a few moments. Please, come into the parlor.”

  With a sigh, he followed, then settled onto a leather chair, the mahogany warming the cool tones of his frockcoat. He laid his top hat aside. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. I’m most ashamed about my rudeness to the scout, as well as making you feel uncomfortable.”

  She remained standing. “I appreciate your candor, Lord Green, and thank you for your apology.” A shadow moved across the front of the parlor window. Dillon? Her pulse raced. “I, too, offer my apologies at the abrupt dismissal of my affections.”

  “A point, my dear that I wish to discuss. Our union was sanctioned by your father. Surely disappointing him with your dismissal is not in your best interest.”

  The shadow neared the entrance. “My father is only concerned with my happiness,” she snapped, impatient with this man’s inane persistence.

  A rap sounded at the door.

  Whatever Lord Green’s reasons for trying to win back her favor, she didn’t want to hear them. Neither did she appreciate him trying to sway her by mentioning her father. “Last night I made it clear that I refuse to marry you. There is little more to say. Please allow me to show you out.”

  A disturbing smirk pulled across Lord Green’s face. “I am not finished with our conversation.”

  A threat?

  The knock sounded again.

  “Unfortunately for you, Lord Green, I am.”

  Her unwanted suitor rose from the chair and reached for his hat.

  “And I do wish you well, sir,” she added, her voice cool. A smile wreathed her face as she turned and swung open the door.

  Eyes widening, the earl gasped. “W-What are you doing here?” he snapped at the stranger who pushed his way into the house.

  Lord Green kno
ws him?

  “Sir, you will leave,” Alma demanded, stunned by the intruder’s arrogance.

  “A lovely day for a visit, isn’t it?” The man jerked the weathered wood from Alma’s grasp, closed the door, and then faced her. Vibrant blue eyes, the same shade as hers, peered back. A foot taller than the earl, every single thing about this man, from his slicked-back hair to his thin, pressed smile screamed danger. “Ahh, Miss Talmadge…at last we meet,” he said, impudence underscoring each word. “And may I say how fetching you look in your expensive silk.”

  A flush of blood purpled Lord Green’s face.

  Fear, on the other hand, oozed through Alma, at Lord Green’s intense resentment toward this stranger. She took a hesitant step backward, narrowing her eyes. “H-how dare you push into this home uninvited, sir?

  “Indignation?” He gave a cold laugh. “Yes…I like your fiery spirit. ‘Tis a family trait, I do believe.” He swept off his hat, smartly bowed, and then plopped the brown bowler upon the entry table. “Allow me to introduce myself. The name’s Simon Bell.”

  Simon Bell!

  The kidnappers. The cave. Dillon’s injury. Panic sluiced through Alma as everything collected around this man’s name and swirled back into blinding recall.

  She must escape.

  Warn Dillon.

  Alma bolted for the door.

  Simon intercepted her, shoving her against the wall. His gaze narrowed on her. “And you, my dearest sister, are going nowhere.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Dillon secured the thin black tie around his shirt collar, then jammed his arm into his frockcoat. Getting cleaned up this morning didn’t seem quite the chore as it had for the damned party last night.

  Course, a lot had happened since then.

  Get up and cover that beast.

  Proud of his prowess, a grin lifted his lips. For you, Princess. He envisioned Alma’s beautiful eyes alight with excitement and desire, her body…their love.