With Open Arms

by Cindy Nord

  Besides…he promised me he’d stay.

  She glanced at Jackson to reassure herself she could trust him, but the revelation that she already did, and must have for some time, settled over her like a warm spring sun after a bitterly cold winter.

  Callie swallowed and rolled to face him. Waves of dark hair tumbled about his head and neck, and a scar atop one broad shoulder had faded into a pale-colored zigzag that captured her gaze. She longed to touch the spot, wondering how he’d received the mark. Was it in war? Did it still hurt? Her hands flexed against the urgent desire and scanned further. His eyes were closed, and his lashes formed dark crescents against his skin. His mustache, a dark chevron following the curve of his upper lip, was full but well-trimmed. And a golden-brown hue, acquired during months under the territorial sun, had stained his skin. The extraordinary ache inside Callie deepened. He was handsome enough to bend iron, and she craved for only him. Craved too his constant dependability in her life.

  In that moment, she realized she could never love any man but him.

  The truth, hidden for so long beneath irrational fears, rippled in rivulets around her impatience. Callie moistened her lips and leaned closer, willing his eyes to open.

  And they did.

  Their gazes connected and heat sluiced over her cheeks. “Th-Thank you,” she whispered on a shaky rush of air. “If not for you, I’d be dead.”

  Jackson spread his hand across her back, his palm pressing against her spine. “I’m just glad I found you in time.”

  His tenderness startled her, lifting a weight from her heart. Caught up in the whirling sensation setting her soul aflame, Callie issued a throaty laugh. She slipped her hand between them, and her fingers stroked the thick locks tumbling across the arm beneath his head. She lifted the sable strands, then feathered them back into place as words fell from her lips in breathless admiration. “You’re so strong…” she said, hesitating as her gaze shifted back to his. “And so brave.”

  His eyes narrowed, but an answering smile flickered across his lips. “And you, my tough little hellion, are incredibly beautiful.”

  A shiver radiated from an aching void inside Callie. Her breathing quickened anew. She hungered to push past her tightly strung life, to consume him whole and to have him consume her, but she didn’t know how…or where to begin. She knew so little about the dance between a man and a woman.

  With each ragged inhalation, her breasts grazed his chest. Under the heat and friction, her nipples tightened into hard buds. Callie, who’d never believed in miracles, found herself believing in one tonight.

  “No more beautiful than you,” she said, another husky laugh slipping out. Surely amusement was wrong at such a time, but she couldn’t stop herself. Not with the joyful bubbles percolating through her from the unfamiliar intimacy. She inhaled, reveling in the marvelous scent of this man. “You smell so good…like raindrops and horses and…man.”

  Jackson chuckled, and her heartbeat accelerated. She was unversed in so many things. When his hand on her back pressed harder, scooping her body closer, her breasts flattened against the solid wall of his chest. The compression sent her blood into a feverish race.

  “And you smell good enough to eat,” he whispered, a glint shimmering from the depths of his dark eyes. A long pause pulled between them and then he said, “I thought I’d lost you, Cal.”

  Any doubts about him really caring for her dissolved beneath his tender, compelling words. She slid a fingertip over his cheek, then down his mustache to his mouth. His lips tilted upward.

  “I am so sorry I’ve caused you such grief,” she whispered. Jackson’s grin widened into a smile beneath her finger. She yearned to make him understand how she felt, but words alone could never accomplish that feat. Longing tripped through her as an idea formed. She could barely contain her own smile. “Remember when you said I’d yet to be truly kissed?” Her gaze rose, meeting his again. “You were right. Before you, I never had.”

  Jackson’s eyes darkened and he caught her digit between his teeth in a playful nip.

  The heat in her veins coursed stronger, spilling in rivulets down both legs. She traced a path to his chin, the stubble of his day-old beard rough against her fingertip. “If I promise not to scold, would you…”

  “Would I what?”

  “Would you show me again?”

  Amusement brightened his eyes. He quirked a brow. “Are you certain? I don’t want another fist in my gut.” The husky chuckle that followed flowed into every lonely crevice of her heart.

  Callie nodded, her face flushing hot with embarrassment. “Yes, I’m more than sure.”

  Jackson pushed onto one elbow, pulling the blanket’s edge from beneath her. His bare leg slid over hers, and the feel of his hair-roughened flesh sent another shiver upward. She inhaled, drawing in the clean smell of his hair, the spiciness of his skin, the unique aroma of their closeness.

  Firelight outlined Jackson in an amber silhouette. The breadth of his shoulders, all muscle and sinew, and his thick, tousled hair made him appear like some mighty warrior. He gazed down at her, mesmeric light reflecting in his eyes. A frisson of heat crackled through her, knowing she was the reason they shimmered.

  Unable to stop herself, she trembled. Her body had a mind of its own, though she didn’t quite understand what was happening. She did, however, like the unaccustomed sensations.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.

  “I’m not.”

  Jackson lowered his head, pausing a hair’s breadth from her lips. “You sure you’re not gonna punch me?”

  She couldn’t contain a giggle. “Keep talking and I just mi—”

  He claimed her lips, lightly at first, then slanting his mouth over hers, kissed her deeply, breaking away only to catch a breath and reclaim her lips again, demanding from her as much as he gave. Callie lost herself to the taste of him, the feel of him, the rhythm of his breath against hers. But she coveted more than this teasing torment.

  She wanted—no, needed—his all. Desire pumped unrestrained through her body. Jackson shifted, adjusting his weight. She gasped when his lips left hers, shuddered when he nuzzled a scalding path down her neck. The tremors deepened when his warm tongue found the pulse beating wildly in the hollow of her throat.

  Beneath the caress of his calloused palms, her skin sizzled. He moved past the indent of her waist, the curve of her naked hip, smoothed his hand over her stomach. Callie slowly unraveled, and her breath caught at the back of her throat when he finally palmed her breast.

  “You feel so good, Cal…” His words ended on a moan, and a wondrous burn scalded her veins. She melted beneath him and slipped her hands up and over his shoulders. Eager to be engulfed by the emotions flooding her, she allowed her exuberance to surge to the surface. Her nails dug into his muscles as she tugged him closer, rejoicing in the solid feel of this amazing man.

  A nip on his shoulder brought the taste of him to her tongue.

  Jackson shifted, rolling onto his hip. “Easy, hellion,” he whispered against her kiss-swollen lips. “I’m not going anywhere.” He pushed aside the blanket. On its drift to the floor, the wool chafed her sensitized skin.

  A rush of air chilled Callie, and her skin pebbled beneath the press of his warm hands. He slid upward and again cupped her breast. A provocative tormentor, he flicked his thumb across her swollen nipple.

  “Jackson,” she gasped, gripping his arms, her need for him as constant as the rain’s steady drumming upon the roof.

  His mouth covered her breast, and any lingering inhibitions she’d felt evaporated under the heat of his tongue upon her nipple. Where his beard stubble brushed, her flesh tingled. Her breathing accelerated as waves of heat radiated across her neck and down her chest, moving past her navel and down her thighs. Between her legs, in her most intimate area, shivers tightened and throbbed. And still Jackson goaded. Wi
th each sweet suckle, each swirl of his tongue, the unbearable ache for this man deepened.

  Reckless in the face of such pleasure, Callie arched her body against his, an urgency to feel his hardness banishing every thought save one.

  “Please, Jackson…please,” she panted, repeating his name like a prayer.

  “Yes, Cal…I know,” he rasped. “I want you, too.” He skimmed hands down her stomach and hips, burning a path wherever he touched. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  A sob escaped her throat, frantic and raw, and she dropped the last shield from her soul and welcomed him in.

  With slow, deliberate ease, he pressed lower, and lower still, until his hand nestled against her womanhood. A great, hollow need engulfed her as his bold touch ignited a hunger inside, thrilling and all-consuming. In wanton impatience, Callie spread wide her legs. When his two fingers slipped inside her cleft, she tightened her passage around them, relishing his audacious exploration.

  Jackson began to stroke—easy one moment, with pressure the next—until Callie could no longer control herself. She writhed beneath him, panting his name so loudly she feared she might be crying. Joy seemed too small a word next to what she felt at the center of her being. Lost in paradise, she clung to him, their partnership now complete. Trusting Jackson hadn’t made her weak; it gave her wings to fly.

  And she soared toward a peak she’d never before scaled. Her heart thumped in wild staccato, and she again dug her fingers into his sweat-slickened skin. Her breathing quickened, then shallowed, and with a will of their own, every muscle inside her tensed.

  And still Jackson stroked while he whispered soft words in her ear, a bewitching, hypnotic summons. Callie arched higher and higher, then finally crested…tipping over an unfathomable pinnacle. An intense white-hot fire engulfed her, and she clamped her legs together as the unfurling ecstasy expanded, surrounding her in blissful release. She convulsed into wave after tremulous wave of spasms.

  Collapsing against the bed, she sobbed Jackson’s name in a ragged chant that contained all the love she now felt for him.

  Jackson glided his hands up, then around her hips, a demanding force now consuming him. Desire pulsed through his veins, the anticipation almost more than he could control. He allowed his need free rein and moved atop her, nudging wider apart her legs. Poised above her, Jackson pressed the length of his erection against her cleft. Slowly, he lowered, guiding himself into her slickened passage.

  Even her scent embraced him, provocative and beguiling.

  “I want you,” he groaned, his heart hammering against his ribs. And I love you. Her moans answered, and with a throaty growl, Jackson surrendered to the need he’d denied for too damn long.

  Callie was his paradise. And he gave himself completely to her, to the warmth between her thighs. Despite a growing euphoria, Jackson felt her fragile barrier. He hesitated, knowing he was her first. He clutched at the ends of his fraying control. Go slow. Be gentle. I won’t hurt her.

  But in her usual reckless fashion, Callie answered his pause with an edgy groan. Thrusting herself upward to break her virginal wall, she gave him her ultimate gift.

  Jackson shuddered with pleasure and finally slipped home. He eased out, then in, again and again, building a rhythmic wave.

  “Move with me,” he whispered against her lips. “Yes, Cal…like that…just like that.” His words, a hoarse chant, guided her onward, and his glorious nymph, bathed in firelight, somehow understood. She was a perfect fit, their bodies melting together.

  He guided her long legs upward, and then around him.

  Coupled together in an ageless dance, they rode heart to heart. Jackson withdrew and Callie rose, matching him in intensity and stroke. No longer separate, they moved as one with a wild and potent fury. As her fingers dug into his shoulders, Jackson fought the urge to pump faster. The soft mounds of her breasts crushed beneath him, her sweet softness molding to his chest. His body begged for release, yet he refused to yield—until Callie quickened, tightening into convulsing waves. Only then did he rear backward, slipping his hands under her hips. Only then did he give in to his need.

  He intensified his strokes, driving deeper and building in speed. And then, a guttural groan ripped from his throat. He trembled, then tensed. Spasms of pleasure ripped through him and in a searing flash Jackson delivered himself unto this woman forever.

  Totality slipped over him. He sunk to the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms, cradling her precious body up against his. At long last, he knew exactly where he belonged.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The rain had stopped hours before and a new day’s sun shone bright around a canvas of turquoise-blue. The glare momentarily blinded Jackson when he stepped from the cabin. He needed a cup of coffee, but that’d have to wait. He blinked several times, adjusting his eyes to the intense light, then settled his Stetson. A tug on the brim helped to shade his face from the glare. Washed clean by the rain, the air was pure and invigorating and he inhaled, easing his breath out in a long sigh.

  The events of last night had birthed a miracle, sweeping him away on magical wings. A euphoric completeness centered him, bouncing off the rough edges of concern. Gus and the others would be worried about their safety. And an anxious push to return to the ranch bulldogged Jackson. He’d spent far too many years being responsible to disregard the accountability sitting on his shoulders now.

  They needed to head back to the ranch soon.

  Jackson shoved his hands into the pair of worn gloves he’d pulled from his back pocket, flexing his fingers to work the still-damp leather into place. A low chuckle spilled from his lips as he shook his head. Gus. Hell, that ol’ codger would probably figure things out the moment he caught a glimpse of Callie’s pink-tinged cheeks.

  The horses whickered when Jackson ducked his head and stepped inside the lean-to. Streaks of sunshine slashed through the shanty’s ramshackle roof, swabbing bright stripes on the dirt floor and across the broad rumps of both animals. Two steps took him to the leathers, and he bent to lift his saddle. A moment later, he eased the McClellan onto Salvaje’s back. Diego gave Jackson’s shoulder a head-butt, knocking Jackson sideways.

  He laughed and pushed the gelding’s soft muzzle. “Sorry, pal. You’re gonna stay here with our sleeping beauty ’til I get back. She needs all the rest she can get.” He snugged the cinch against Salvaje’s belly, unable to prevent the lingering contentment of last night from tipping his lips upward again. After her harrowing experience, Callie did need to recuperate, yet he’d kept her awake half the night.

  Jackson ran a gloved hand through his hair, then resettled his hat. What a woman my little hellion has become. Yes, he’d let her sleep a while longer while he looked for the safest route across the creek.

  “Come on, boy,” he said, backing Salvaje out of the shed and sweeping into the saddle. The sun hit him full-on and hot.

  Just like Callie.

  His heart hammered his ribs as he fought the urge to return to her arms and bury himself inside her again. Instead, he nudged the stallion toward the Angel.

  The storm had pummeled the desert. Devastation lay everywhere Jackson looked: the severed pads of prickly pear, the broken cacti and snapped willow fronds. In an embankment on his left, a saguaro jutted from the moist sand at an odd angle. On Jackson’s right, desert flowers carpeted the ground in mangled clumps, their colorful blooms ripped away by the storm.

  The smell of saturated soil played around Jackson’s nostrils, melding with the scents of juniper and palo verde. The desert was primed to absorb soft, infrequent rain showers, not the deluge that had swallowed it whole last night.

  He squinted against the refracting light filtering through a bank of snow-colored clouds. The rays fell across the carcasses of several unlucky desert cottontails not yet found by the pack of hungry coyotes who also called Dos Caballos home. Jackson pl
odded past, and sage sparrows fluttered from a nearby bush away from Salvaje’s hooves.

  Winding his way through open areas void of shrubs and perennial succulents, Jackson reached the Angel. The creek still ran deep, the water swirling reddish brown around uprooted creosote and junipers, their bark fibrous and broken and gray-brown against the rushing torrent. The saddle creaked as he shifted his weight.

  They wouldn’t be crossing here anytime soon.

  He turned Salvaje upstream. Within a few days, the desert would burst into bloom again, invigorated by the rain’s bounty. This land had an amazing ability to heal.

  Like our partnership.

  His relationship with Callie had shifted into a new place, and Jackson relished the intensity and discoveries yet to come. The double-quick beat of his heart concurred. Hell’s fire, he’d never been in love before, and the tightness in his chest matched the tightness throbbing inside his denims.

  As terrifying as the experience had been, Callie’s near-drowning had forced him to realize his emptiness. Driven and determined, she possessed strengths he never expected in a woman. Her spirit completed him. He admired and respected her—most likely always had, but he’d been too stubborn to admit the truth.

  Jackson revisited a glimpse of a well-satisfied Callie from last night, her skin dewy in the soft firelight. When he’d unbraided her hair, the curls had tumbled around them.

  A curtain of pure silk.

  Wishing he were sliding his hands through those glorious curls again, he inhaled deeply and clenched his fingers around the reins for control. When they got back to the ranch house, they’d talk about their future. Make big plans. Jackson’s laugh joined the raucous shriek of a Harris hawk swirling overhead. Hell, he’d even marry her, then spend the rest of his life attempting to keep up with her reckless ways. Yes, everything had changed for them, and there was no way in hell he’d be taking that command position with the territorial militia now.