Calico

by Raine Cantrell

She asked about kisses, and he asked a dumb question that he already knew the answer to? Maggie sank back on her heels. What was wrong with him?

  “Can’t count them all?” he asked with anger sharpening his tone.

  “There was my father and Uncle Pete. But you know—”

  “Not those men. That’s not the kind of being with I mean.” He raked his hair, fighting the answer that was rushing at him, hoping he was wrong. There was no delicate way to ask, and with a shrug, he tossed a look at her. “What I want to know is—”

  “I’m not that dumb, McCready. You’re talkin’ about the way babies get made.”

  Indignation flooded her eyes, and McCready bit back what he’d been about to say. “Yeah, Maggie, that’s what I meant.”

  Once again she saw the fire highlighting the planes of his face, the curve of his mouth, and the sheer power of his lithe body. Maggie watched him with a fascination that she didn’t try to hide.

  “You keep looking at me like that, Mary Margaret, and I’m going to feed all that hunger in your eyes.” His gaze moved over her face, lingering with frank male intensity on her parted lips. Even though his shirt was a bit big on her, it didn’t conceal the harsh rise and fall of her breasts.

  “You didn’t answer me, Maggie. How many men?”

  “Not a one,” she answered honestly, feeling the coil of unknown tension as if a band squeezed her belly. She couldn’t keep kneeling there, watching him. Not when need urged her to satisfy it and touch him.

  Maggie came to her feet slowly, dropping the quilt, for once wishing she knew a woman’s ways. She felt clumsy dressed in his shirt and pants and with her feet bare. But she didn’t let that stop her. She was walking toward something both exciting and dangerous.

  “Think about what you’re doing, Maggie. I said I wanted you like hell’s on fire. That’s hungry, little one.”

  “I’m not so little, McCready. I’m big and sometimes so clumsy—”

  He reached out and pulled her up against him. “No. You’re not, Maggie. I just want you to understand that if I start kissing you, it doesn’t stop there. I’ll want everything you have to give a man, and I’m going to want it until I’m too damn tired to breathe.” Maggie had resurrected his conscience, and now he couldn’t close the door on it.

  “Don’t you understand? I get hard just watching you.” To prove his point, he took hold of her hand and dragged it against his violently aroused flesh. “Now, do you understand?”

  She understood that she had never wanted a man before.

  “Truth, McCready?”

  “A man can’t hide what he’s feeling the way a woman can.”

  She couldn’t help but look at his mouth with a hunger she had never felt. The dark beard stubble only made the smooth line of his lips more inviting. Maggie lifted her gaze to his eyes. They burned. And she knew he meant his warning. McCready wasn’t going to stop with kisses. He’d take all she had to give. Deep waters, Maggie. Aye, she answered herself. But these aren’t the same cold ones I’ve stood in to pan for gold. They’re so hot I can feel the heat in my bones.

  She sensed the hard beating of his heart. Felt the wild pulse of the flesh pressed against her hand. Maggie lifted her head a bit more, just enough to taste his breath on her lips and take his scent into herself.

  “You know what I understand, McCready? I understand what it means to be caught between a rock and a hard place. If I walk away, I’ll fight the little devils clawing at me belly for something only you can give them. If I stay, I have nothing to protect meself—”

  “There won’t be any babies, Maggie. There are ways to prevent—”

  She brushed her mouth against his. “Then show me. Show me all the ways there—”

  His mouth settled over hers with the same hard hunger that racked his body, sinking deeply into the giving warmth of her mouth, teasing her with deep, thrusting motions of his tongue.

  Maggie stroked his body as if she would never get enough of touching him. McCready paid her back with the same rough caresses that were just as greedy, setting off a wildness that excited himself along with Maggie. Her hands slid down his hips and played over his thighs with the same bawdy, unhurried tantalizing way she explored the secrets of his mouth.

  Her body rose to meet his, and Maggie heard his soft frenzied groan as she rubbed against him. She nipped his lip, craving the heat of his mouth, driven by forces she had unleashed.

  McCready heard his gruff sound of need. He brought one hand to the back of her head and held her tightly while he ground his mouth on hers. He knew he should slow down, wanted to, but she opened so hungrily to him that his savage response shook him. He grasped her bottom, grinding his hips against her. The need to sheath himself inside her scorched him from the inside out.

  “Maggie, Maggie,” he whispered, dragging his mouth across hers, unable to stop.

  She sensed there was more he wanted to say, but she couldn’t wait to find out. All she wanted was to hold him and feel his arms around her. She needed to fill herself with the taste of him, to feel the hardness of his body against hers. She smoothed his hair before her hands settled on his shoulders. Kneading him, she made soft, approving sounds, glorying in touching the hard muscles of his arms.

  McCready took. Everything. All he had wanted and found that Maggie still had more to give with her mouth. Pleasure expanded as he urgently savored her, tasting and caressing and luring her deeper and deeper into the passion ripping him apart. When he was breathing as harshly as she, he lifted his head and, holding her hips, rubbed her against the hard length of his arousal. He was shuddering, with no thought to try and hide from her. Holding her tightly, he fought for control.

  “My God,” he whispered, releasing an explosive hiss.

  Afraid he would let her go, Maggie nuzzled his neck. She closed her eyes to feel him stroking her hair, trembling even as his big body shuddered again.

  She nipped his skin lightly, instantly soothing it with her tongue.

  McCready’s fingertips scored down her back, sending a delicious shiver deep, deep inside her. He threaded his fingers through her short curls, tugging gently backward until she had to look up at him.

  “Sweet, Maggie.” His mouth dipped for a tiny taste of her lips. “Soft and giving. You deserve better than a hard floor—”

  “But you,” she whispered in return, “said you liked a hard bed and a soft woman beneath you.”

  His slowly formed wicked smile stole her breath. She offered her mouth to his once more, disappointed that he took no more than a light kiss. She watched him, filled with uncertainty. This was all too new. She didn’t know how to tease and play, but she wanted to learn. Wanted it as badly as she wanted him to kiss her again so that she couldn’t think, couldn’t talk.

  Maggie suddenly found herself pulling free of him. “You promised me that we’d play,” she said, backing away from him. “You said you’d chase me—”

  “I will.” Without warning he took a step toward her.

  “Oh. Your knee.”

  “Never mind my knee. It won’t stop me, Maggie. Nothing will.”

  Maggie opened two buttons on her shirt.

  McCready stopped. He read the desire in her eyes but remembered her innocence. “All right, Maggie mine,” he said in a lazy drawl. “We’ll play.” He saw the start of a provocative smile on her lips. “But I name the stakes. And, Maggie, this is a game where the winner takes all.”

  Chapter 14

  Maggie’s fingers hesitated over the next button. McCready wasn’t going to play fair. He was already shrugging out of his shirt, tossing it aside, his eyes never leaving her.

  “Chicken already?”

  Her chin came up at the taunt. “Are those the rules? Me shirt goes next?”

  He caught the trembling of her hands and saw the heat flushing her cheeks. “Not quite. I have to catch you first, Maggie mine. Then the shirt comes off.”

  “There’s a lot mo
re of you than I’d thought, McCready.” But the nervous betraying tremor in her voice didn’t stop her from looking her fill. From his navel to his collarbone a masculine pelt formed a ragged wedge. His beltless pants dipped teasingly lower when he put his hands on his hips. The edge of Maggie’s teeth scored her lip.

  “Tell me, Maggie mine, are the wee ones about?”

  She gulped and nodded.

  McCready offered a satisfied smile. He shifted his weight, standing with legs spread, and cut Maggie off from any place to go but the bed. For every step forward that he took, she managed two steps backward.

  The backs of Maggie’s knees hit the edge of the bed.

  “Bad move, Maggie mine.”

  She wasn’t fooled by the softness of his voice. His eyes watched her like the craftiest of hunters. But Maggie had been jumped before and knew a few tricks of her own.

  With a playful growl McCready lunged for her. Maggie leapt for the bed and would have made it but for McCready’s pants sliding down her hips. Trying to keep hold of them cost her her freedom.

  “A forfeit, Maggie,” he whispered, holding her tight.

  “Take it,” she demanded but was already offering him her lips.

  McCready bent and took the hard velvet tip of one breast in his mouth. The shirt did nothing to protect Maggie from the fire that streamed through her body. A broken sound of pleasure escaped her, only to be repeated when she felt his hands on her waist, kneading her flesh while his mouth suckled her breast.

  Even as she shivered to feel the hot rasp of his tongue through the shirt, McCready moved his hands and gently tugged on the pants that seemed to beg to accommodate his desire to see them gone. The drag of the cloth along with the heat of his hands over her hips and thighs made her knees weaken. Maggie clung to his upper arms to keep her balance. Every time she touched McCready and felt the warmth and hardness of his muscles, it surprised her, but this time there was no cloth to stop her from caressing him.

  McCready tore his mouth from her and began kissing and love-biting a path to her ear. He licked the fine sheen that sprang from the heat of her, tempted to take the softness that nothing concealed, but Maggie was shaking and clinging to him. His tongue traced the sworls of her ear, and with a light kiss he pulled back.

  “Game point’s mine.”

  “But not the game, McCready.” Maggie kicked the pants free and slipped from his loose embrace. She danced away to the center of the room, smiling and giving a saucy toss of her head.

  She was a breathtaking sight with the firelight adding its gold to her copper curls. The shirt that ended mid-thigh revealed the long length of her legs, and McCready felt a clenching in his gut that warned him his body wasn’t going to take much more playing.

  Maggie tried to gather her wits. McCready looked dangerous with his eyes narrowed and the shadows playing over his bare chest.

  She placed the table between them, taunting him with her smile. McCready readily took up the game, and for a few minutes darted back and forth while Maggie managed to use the table for protection. His speed forced her to rethink her plan as his fingers closed within inches of her shirt.

  Maggie made a move to the right, praying her timing was good. McCready came around to chase her, and Maggie heaved herself up on the table, barely grabbing hold of his arm.

  “Now it’s me turn to be claimin’ a point.”

  McCready looked from her hand on his arm up to her eyes. He could easily shake off her grip, but the flaring excitement bringing to life the ancient green shade of her eyes brought his own smile and nod.

  “Your point, Maggie. What’ll you have?”

  “Your pants, McCready.”

  “Fair enough. Do you take them off or do I?”

  “I … no … you…”

  “Can’t make up your mind? Maybe this will help. I’m not wearing a damn thing under them, Maggie.”

  She gulped and closed her eyes. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? He’d taken off hers. But when she looked at him and found that glitter of amusement back in his gaze, the answer she thought to give him got swallowed. Maggie let go of his arm, motioning him away so she could get down from the table.

  You’re no coward. Tell him to shuck down.

  I’m not ready for this.

  But her body told her she was.

  Maggie rubbed the sides of her thighs, then planted her hands on her hips. “Well, McCready, go on.”

  His hands hit the buttons so fast she could barely follow his moves. She blinked and found him kicking them aside.

  Swallowing was no longer a choice. Her mouth went cotton dry. “Sweet heaven, McCready, you’re a splendid sight.”

  “And who, Maggie mine,” he asked, with a quickening anger, “would you be measuring me by?”

  Maggie bit her lip, hesitating. Then, with a decided twinkle in her eyes, she threw back her head laughing.

  “Maggie,” he warned, advancing on her.

  She stopped instantly. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I didn’t lie to you. I’ve been with no man. But, McCready, I’ve seen me share of jackasses and horses an’—”

  “Are you comparing me with a—”

  “Don’t take on, boyo. It’s a favorable thing I’ve said. You’re fitted for a hell of a ride, McCready, an’ that’s the truth.”

  “Am I now?”

  “For sure.”

  “Then you won’t take offense, Maggie mine, when I tell you that I’ve been thinking the same about you.” McCready didn’t laugh at her stunned expression. He couldn’t. She tossed her head proudly, and his conscience reared once more, telling him he should be ashamed of taking advantage of her innocence. But Maggie’s gaze reflected the heat of his own.

  “You did me a favor by ridding me of those pants, Maggie. And doing a favor for an unscrupulous man like me is quite as dangerous as doing injury to a good man. There’s only one more piece to go.”

  Maggie looked down at her half-unbuttoned shirt and turned tail.

  McCready caught her easily. Maybe too easily. He spun her around and took her mouth in the next breath. Maggie came to him with all her woman’s heat, all her softness, all that generous giving. The game was over, and they both knew it.

  She gave. And gave. Before he could ask. Before he knew he needed. There was a gentle drumroll of rain on the roof, but he could barely hear for the beat of his heart.

  Maggie followed his teasing, maddening mouth. She made a ragged sound that was frustration and need in one. Her tongue sought out and found his for a wild, hungry kiss, and his arms closed tighter around her, arching her into his body. Again he moved, bending her supple body more deeply to his, satisfying her instinctive need to match a woman’s heat with his hard need.

  Maggie felt her world spinning, and she with it in the consuming hot darkness that was McCready’s taste spreading through her. And then he was spinning with her, slowly turning, holding her tight, and Maggie felt herself being lowered to the floor. McCready didn’t break the kiss, and she felt his weight, the ripple of his muscles, the blunt ridge of his arousal, the hardness of his thighs. She trembled even as she pressed against his big body.

  “You’re trembling, Maggie.”

  “You are, too.”

  He stroked her hair back from her face. “I know. I almost didn’t have the strength to take us both down.” His voice was filled with both desire and laughter. “Maggie, let me get the quilt.”

  Her hands tightened on his shoulders. She slowly shook her head, almost afraid of what she wanted to say.

  But he read the question in her eyes. “Tell me. Whatever it is. I ache, Maggie. Ache for you. If I can say that, can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  She closed her eyes and whispered, “I want to be the soft woman beneath you, McCready.”

  “Maggie. Maggie, look at me.” He cupped her chin, waiting until she opened her eyes and stared into his. “Maggie, if you get any softer, I’m going to sink into yo
u so deep, so hard and fast, that it’ll be heaven and hell rolling together. But I’ll hurt you, and that I won’t do. That’s why I’m getting the quilt.”

  With dreamy eyes she watched the supple play of light and shadows on his body as he moved and came back beside her. For a minute, staring up at his towering dark form, Maggie grew afraid. She felt exposed lying there. But McCready’s eyes were so intent with desire that she couldn’t move.

  He spread the folded quilt and gently urged her onto it, quickly settling himself beside her, coaxing her to come into his arms. His knuckles grazed her breasts as he undid the buttons on her shirt.

  Maggie watched him, her belly tightening when he reached the last one, and his hands splayed wide over her too sensitive skin. He moved aside the cloth and slowly angled his hand down to draw the nipple into his mouth. Her broken cry of pleasure made him shudder.

  Flicking his tongue over the swollen tip, McCready forced himself not to think of the deep pulsing need of his own body and concentrated on pleasuring Maggie.

  She was sweet heat. More potent than the best of whiskeys. The taste of her lured him like a high-stakes poker game where he risked the pleasure and pain of his own savage arousal for more of her rippling broken cries. Her breaths whispered warm and promising over his shoulder, and the rain-washed scent of her filled him until there was room for no other.

  Pleasure burst over Maggie, filling her with a recklessness that had her hands streaking over him. She wanted the same power over McCready that he had over her. She wanted to know she could make him tremble as she did, make him as mindless, make him bum.

  Her breasts were hot and swollen, their tips hard and aching for more of his caresses. She arched against his hand stroking down her body, burning and shivering, needing something more and unable to tell him. Her lips pressed frantic kisses on his shoulder, then her teeth closed over him in response to the feelings raging inside her.

  McCready lifted his head, and his hands stilled on the flare of her hips, while he fought to control the violent shudder ripping through him.

  His purely male smile shocked her almost as much as her biting him. Restless need had her twisting against him, and she couldn’t speak.