by Cait London
His mouth was on hers, taking greedily, hard and open and slanting to fuse. She wrapped her arms around him, locking him tightly against her as he moved over her and that blunt pressure came into her moist, warm keeping. He rocked gently upon her, her hips meeting his, as though they were creating a tempo to last a lifetime. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, nipped at his throat and Michael trembled, his hands running down her legs, lifting them for a deeper fit. She took a breath, savoring the storm that would come tossing them against the pleasure. When she released it, the pleasure dived into her, Michael moving powerfully against her, but she met that power with her own, claiming him, feeding upon him. His kisses were wild now, feverish and packed with the raw need driving him. She fought him and herself, and then brought him home again, the rhythm so fast it hurled them into the storm, the tightening of her body matching his. Just out there, on that beautiful electrifying plane, time stood still, quivering, deliciously wrapped in pleasure. Fighting his body, trying to give her more, loving her desperately, the other part of his heart, his body, his soul, Michael knew that they were one.
His heart was her heart, filling her, pounding against her, as real and strong as a fiery brand, pouring into her, becoming one with her. Michael came slowly down to rest upon her, damp with the effort of holding himself, and the wild release that was taken out of his control. As she drifted in the aftermath of the storm, she smoothed his taut rippling back, his lips moved against her throat. “Dear heart,” he murmured drowsily, as if he’d be saying that when they were years down the road of life. “I love you.”
Michael grinned in the shadows of his barn, feeling boyish and powerful and macho and too lucky to be believed. The gift he’d chosen to give her wasn’t flowers and jewelry, though he planned to give those, too. He studied his gift and his grin widened. There was just nothing like Kylie when she was courting. He never knew what to expect. The new ease between them had grown in the last week. He was a little dizzy with his love, still wary with the fit of it, but she’d asked him to the Last Dance of the Women’s Council Christmas Dance. She’d be coming for him in a surrey, if the ground was clear of snow. If it wasn’t, she’d borrow a sleigh.
They’d read Anna’s journals together, and he’d held Kylie when she cried, missing her mother. She’d come to him, letting him hold her, giving her ease. Anna would be there, they both knew, loving them both and the children they would have. A strong woman, she’d given him the gift of a lifetime—Kylie.
Locked onto his future with Kylie, Michael moved quickly, selling his interest in the security company. He didn’t want any part of that life now, didn’t want it touching Kylie and the family they wanted to start soon. Other investments were chosen, and he’d purchased more land to raise cattle and goats and chickens and pigs. For his part, he wanted to raise their children, to see them play, to keep Kylie warm and happy and fed as she shared her gifts. He hadn’t told her yet, but he wanted a brood filling their lives, wild happy children, just like Kylie had been.
As for the women Rosa Demitri and he tried to salvage, Kylie would hear nothing of Michael leaving his work. But realizing that Michael had paid more than his dues and needed time to enjoy his new life, Thomas White had arranged for another man, just as experienced, to help with the women needing protection, sharing their work. There would be times when Kylie’s kind heart and healing ways would be needed, and Michael didn’t begrudge that. It was her calling, a gift from her mother, and one needing to be shared.
The gift of the night vision glasses had purchased a measure of Karolina’s wary trust and the Bachelor Club mourned losing another member.
Michael heard Kylie’s footsteps coming closer, up to the upstairs room vacated of weapons and sensors. He didn’t need electronic sensors to know that she was nearby; his body told him with a heady slam of happiness and hunger. He let the grin within him slide outside to a face once kept locked and cold. He let his happiness linger there, on the curve of his lips waiting to taste hers.
“Michael, can you help me move my hope chest to your house—?”
She closed the door, and slowly walked to him, blue eyes darkening as they ran down his denim jacket and jeans. He recognized that hot steaming look, his heart already pounding, his body hardening. “Hi, dear heart,” she whispered, lifting on tiptoe to kiss him. She tasted of hunger and delight and dreams to come. “I’m home.”
He turned her gently to view his gift in the center of the area. It gleamed boldly in the light, waiting for her. “Yum,” Kylie said slowly, then turned back to Michael, her eyes alight. “I’ve always wanted a mechanical bucking bull.”
“Land on the mat and take it slow,” he warned firmly even as she began to undress.
“Yum,” she whispered, moving into his arms. “In a bit, dear heart. In a bit.”
Fidelity tapped her cane and looked out at the mid-December day, bright with promise. “Well, that’s that. Michael Cusack and Kylie Bennett are going to be married. He rated an ‘A plus’ on the visit from the Committee for the Welfare of Brides. Oh, that boy will have her wearing a white gown and having a proper wedding right and good in Freedom’s church. Anna would be so pleased. Well, girls, that is one of the Bachelor Club married, good and well. The Rules for Bride Courting have never failed, when done right. Has anyone heard if Kylie’s sister, Miranda, is married yet? No one has heard? Well, find out! She’ll be home for her sister’s wedding and we don’t want to miss our chance to marry off another one of the Bachelor Club.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5733-1
SLOW FEVER
Copyright © 2000 by Lois Kleinsasser
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*The MacLeans
*The MacLeans
*The MacLeans
†The Blaylocks
†The Blaylocks
‡The Tallchiefs
‡The Tallchiefs
‡The Tallchiefs
‡The Tallchiefs
‡The Tallchiefs
‡The Tallchiefs
†The Blaylocks
†The Blaylocks
†The Blaylocks
§Freedom Valley
‡The Tallchiefs
§Freedom Valley
‡The Tallchiefs