He stared at the graham cracker concoction she’d made him and shrugged. “Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t have. You still should have told me.”
“Why? What difference does it make to you who Tom is to me?”
Rand frowned. He didn’t like that question. “Did I say it made a difference? All I said was that if you were my girl, I wouldn’t let you go.” Dammit, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. “Into the canyon, I mean.”
The cracker that Grace had lifted to her mouth stopped midair. She looked up at him, her gaze steady. “I’m not your girl,” she said evenly. “Or anyone else’s, either. In fact, I’m not a girl at all. I’m a twenty-five-year-old grown woman. Your concern touches me, but I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
They both turned their attention to the dessert Grace had made. He watched those soft lips of hers nibble on a corner and felt his stomach clench.
As if he didn’t know that she was a woman, for God’s sake. Every thing about her was woman. The scent of her skin, the way she walked, the tilt of her pretty head. She sat here in front of him, those long, curvy legs crossed in front of her, with firelight shimmering in her auburn hair like fall leaves dancing in a breeze, and he sure as hell didn’t need her to tell him that she was a woman.
I can keep my hands off her, he said to himself. I can.
She licked a spot of chocolate from the corner of her mouth, and he nearly fell off the rock he was sitting on.
“We should turn in,” he said, looking at the two sleeping bags he’d already laid out beside the truck. “If Marty and Tom get here by eight, we’ll need to be ready to move by nine.”
“You go ahead,” she said, still nibbling on her graham cracker. “I just need a few minutes.”
He nodded. “I’m going to go wash up by the creek. If anything slithers your way, just give a call.”
He saw the fear flash in her eyes, then she narrowed a look at him that said the only thing she saw slithering had two legs.
“I’ll be fine.”
He nodded and walked away. He glanced at Grace’s sleeping bag, then at her stiff back.
…hey, Rand, let’s throw a snake in Mom’s bed and see how loud she screams…
Nah.
But the thought was enough to lighten his mood for the moment. He whistled all the way to the creek and back, then slipped into his sleeping bag while Grace still sat at the fire. He tipped his hat over his eyes, turned his back to her and fell instantly asleep.
Rain.
Icy cold, black rain. It pounded the windshield, the roof of the car. Rand felt his heart pound louder than the drum his grandfather had given him when he’d turned seven. “I think you should pull over,” Rand heard his mother say to his father. “Soon as the road widens around this turn,” he answered.
Beside Rand, Seth sat still as a stone, his eyes wide with fear. On his other side, Lizzie sat in her car seat, sleeping. Rand’s mother turned and looked at her sons. “We’ll be fine,” she said with a smile. “Don’t be afraid.”
Lightning.
Blinding white explosion. It hit directly in front of the car.
His mother’s scream, and they went down into that black hole that Rand thought for sure was hell. The crunch of metal…Lizzie’s cry…
Then nothing…
Absolute silence…
Heart racing, pulse-pounding, Rand sat. Darkness surrounded him. Where the hell am I? He felt a moment of panic, told himself to breathe slowly…
A dream, he told himself. Just a dream. Again.
“Rand?”
He snapped his head in the direction of the woman’s voice.
Grace. It was Grace.
Relief poured through him. He nearly pulled her into his arms, had to clench his hands into fists so he wouldn’t.
He stared at her for a long moment, waited for her features to clear in the dim light of the dying fire. She sat on her knees beside him, her eyes filled with concern. Shadows danced on her face and in her tousled hair.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly.
He still couldn’t speak. The edges of the dream were still with him, hovering. He nodded, sucked in a breath.
She laid a hand on his arm and leaned closer. “You were dreaming.”
“Go back to sleep,” he finally managed, his voice hoarse and dry. “It was nothing.”
“You’re shaking,” she said, and moved her hand up and down his arm.
Rand felt the heat of her skin seep through the light flannel shirt he wore. She smelled like sleep and fresh air and Grace.
He wanted her so badly he ached.
“Grace, for God’s sake, just go back to sleep,” he said roughly.
She shook her head.
Damn stubborn woman.
She moved in closer to him, kept rubbing his arm.
Rand ground his back teeth and closed his eyes. “Dammit, will you stop that.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her still. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then her gaze dropped to his mouth.
His heart slammed in his chest, only this time it had nothing to do with the dream and everything to do with Grace.
On an oath he dragged her to him and covered her mouth with his.
Six
He’d kissed her before, so it wasn’t the fierce, sudden rush of heat that shocked Grace. He’d held her in his arms before, so it wasn’t the exhilaration of his muscled body pressed against hers that shocked her, either.
What shocked Grace was the intensity of the pleasure racing through her blood. The savage, hungry desire that had sprung to life at the first touch of his mouth on hers.
She’d never experienced such need before, would never have believed such depth of feeling even existed. Still wasn’t certain that she wasn’t the one having the dream instead of Rand.
But if this were a dream, she thought dimly, she didn’t want to ever wake up.
His mouth moved over hers, deepened the kiss as his arms circled her shoulders and pulled her close.
On the edge of a cliff, only a fool does handstands.
The thought jumped into her dazed mind. Good heavens, she was not only doing handstands, she was doing cartwheels and flips. It would be a long fall over the edge of this cliff she stood on with Rand. A long, hard dive into certain heartache.
She was beyond caring. Beyond rational thought. She wanted this man like she’d never wanted before, and she was too far gone to stop what was happening. She didn’t want to stop it.
He whispered her name between kisses, and the rough, husky sound of his voice made her pulse race even faster. His mouth, hot and demanding, slanted against hers again and again, the stubble of his beard sending sparks of electricity coursing through her veins. Grace opened to him, met the hungry thrust of his tongue with her own. She recognized the subtle taste of mint and the darker, more exotic taste of Rand himself. The masculine, earthy scent of his skin invaded her senses, heightened them, made her more aware of him and of the night surrounding them, the crescent moon overhead, the dim glow of the dying fire, the distant howl of a coyote.
The sensations all swirled upward in her mind and her body; they spun faster, and faster still. She wound her arms tightly around his shoulders and held on, let herself be drawn upward and carried away with the tornado of feelings he evoked in her.
From the first moment she’d seen him working in the barn, she’d known it would be like this. Not in her head, she couldn’t have imagined anything this intense. But in her heart, in her soul, she had known. She’d tried to tell herself she could manage her feelings for Rand, the physical and the professional. But she’d been wrong. So very wrong.
She’d seen something, felt something, the instant their eyes had met that first time. Something that went beyond understanding or explanation, and certainly beyond common sense.
His hands tightened on her shoulders, then he lifted his mouth from her
s and looked down at her.
“Grace,” he said raggedly, “if you want to stop this, you need to say so right now.”
He offered no tender words, no soft whispers of endearment. What he did offer, Grace understood, was honesty. No lies, no promises. Nothing beyond this moment.
Was that enough for her? she asked herself. Could she make love with this man, knowing that this was all there was?
She looked into his dark eyes, saw an edge she’d never seen before, the same edge she heard in his voice. It was raw and primal, filled with need.
He frightened her.
He thrilled her.
Grace had waited all her life for this. For him.
She might be a fool, but her heart and her body simply wouldn’t listen to her head. Lifting her hand to his cheek, she lightly traced the firm line of his mouth with her thumb. She felt a muscle jump in his jaw at her touch, watched those dark eyes of his narrow with passion.
“Make love to me, Rand,” she whispered. “Please make love to me.”
She was certain she saw relief in his eyes, then he caught her to him again and crushed his mouth to hers. She felt and tasted his desperation in the long, searing kiss he gave her.
Then he let her go.
Confused, she watched as he shoved the sleeping bag off him and rose.
“What—”
He bent down and kissed her again, a quick, heated brush of lips. “I’ll be right back.”
It took a moment for Grace to comprehend what Rand was doing, but when he walked to the cab of his truck and rifled through the glove box, she understood. She felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. She’d been so completely lost in his touch, she hadn’t thought about protection.
He kept his gaze on her as he walked back toward her. The pale light of the dying flames cast shadows over the hard, sharp angles of his face. His eyes narrowed with need.
She shivered.
When he knelt in front of her, she rose on her knees to face him. Slowly, hesitantly, Grace lifted her hand and laid it on his chest. She felt the wild beating of his heart under her palm and the heat of his skin through the light flannel shirt he wore.
Like an electrical current, desire vibrated from his body to hers, then back again. When he covered her hand with his own, the voltage only increased.
“Grace,” he said her name with velvet softness, “I don’t want to hurt you. You need to be sure about this.”
Didn’t he know they were way beyond that? That the hurt was inevitable, and still she wanted him, wanted this, more than her next breath?
That wasn’t something she could tell him.
But she could show him.
Grace laid her other hand on Rand’s broad chest and splayed her fingers, moved upward, over his collarbone, felt the tension radiate from his body. She moved her fingers up his neck, then cupped his face in both of her hands. Her gaze held steady with his.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
His eyes narrowed with need, then he lowered his head to hers and captured her mouth. His kiss was gentle, yet insistent. His tongue lightly brushed over her bottom lip, then parted her lips and moved inside. She opened to him, welcomed him, and together they moved in a steady, primitive rhythm as old as time.
The kiss deepened. Grace felt her pulse pounding in her head, in her veins. She’d never felt so alive, so sensitive to every touch, every sound, every smell.
He pulled her tightly into his arms, held her close to the solid heat of his body. She shuddered. When his head dipped lower and blazed a hot trail of kisses down to the rise of her breast, she moaned.
“I want to see you,” he said huskily, then slipped his hands under her T-shirt.
Grace sucked in a breath at the first glorious touch of his fingers on her bare skin. His rough, callused palms skimmed up the sides of her waist. Ripples of heat coursed through her body. She wanted those hands everywhere. Wanted her hands on him.
Breathing hard, she inched away from him, held his gaze with her own as she reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head.
She tossed it aside, and was naked from the waist up.
Rand’s gaze dropped to her breasts; his eyes turned black as the night surrounding them, burned hot as the embers in the fire.
His hands slid upward.
She trembled at his touch. When his hands cupped her, she drew in a quick breath. Grace felt her skin tighten, felt the hot rush of blood pumping through her veins. Certain she would fall if she didn’t hold on to him, she slid her hands up his forearms, felt the light sprinkling of coarse hair and the ripple of hard muscles.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured.
His thumbs brushed over her hardened nipples. Arrows of white-hot pleasure shot directly from her breasts to the juncture of her thighs. On a soft moan she closed her eyes and dropped her head back.
Nothing had ever felt so right to her before, so completely natural, and because of that, Grace felt no embarrassment or awkwardness. She simply let herself feel, and the sensations engulfed her. She wouldn’t have believed it possible to experience pleasure this intense.
And then he bent and took her in his mouth.
Grace gasped at the feel of his tongue on her beaded nipple and the rasp of his beard on her soft flesh. She gripped his head in her hands and raked her fingers through his thick hair, struggled to drag oxygen into her lungs. Her heart slammed in her chest as he moved his hot, wet tongue in a sensual, rhythmic movement, then lightly scraped her sensitive skin with his teeth. Shock waves rippled through her, an electrifying, glorious raging river of need.
She hadn’t had time to draw in a breath before he moved to her other breast and once again hungrily pulled her into his mouth. Pleasure bordered on pain. A steady, insistent throb pulsed between her legs. If it were possible to die from feelings this intense, then she was certain she would.
“Your clothes,” she gasped between breaths and moved her hands restlessly over his shoulders. “I want to touch you.”
He pulled away from her, his breathing ragged and heavy, then tore at the buttons on his shirt and yanked it off his shoulders. The firelight danced over his bronze skin and rippling muscles. He was the most magnificent man she’d ever seen: his shoulders were broad, his chest wide, his belly flat and hard. It was a warrior’s body, marked with the scars of his battles. She laid her palms on his chest and splayed her hands, then lightly traced his flat, tiny nipples with the tips of her index fingers. He jumped at her touch, and she felt his shudder vibrate from his body to hers.
He caught her in his arms and his mouth swooped down on hers again, pulling her in, tasting, taking. Destroying. He demanded more, and she gave him everything. Bare flesh to bare flesh. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on. Even as they fell backward on the thick sleeping bags, his mouth never left hers. Rand’s long, muscled body pressed down on her, and she reveled in the feel of his weight on top of her. She wanted him closer still, and she hugged him tightly to her, moving her hips against him in a slow, sensual motion.
From deep in Rand’s throat, Grace heard a rough sound, half growl, half moan. He grasped her hips with his large hands and held her still, then blazed hot kisses over her jaw and down her neck. Grace sucked in breath after breath with every nip of his teeth and sweep of his moist tongue. It seemed as if she’d been turned inside out, exposing every raw nerve to his touch. He moved down, over her shoulders, the swell of her breast, pausing to once again take each aching nipple into his mouth before moving lower still. His beard scraped at the soft skin on her belly; his tongue tasted hungrily.
He opened the snap of her jeans, and she heard the hiss of her zipper as the snug denim parted. While his mouth explored the valley of her hip, he eased the garment down inch by agonizing inch. When he nipped at the soft cotton-encased mound of her womanhood, Grace heard the sound of her moan. Gasping, her hands reached for his head, and she clawed her fingers into his hair.
It felt like
a lifetime before her legs were finally free of her jeans. He linked two fingers under the elastic band of her underwear and in one swift, smooth move, they were gone, as well.
She lay naked under him, physically and emotionally, but it felt as natural to her as breathing.
He rose over her, his eyes intent and glinting with passion. He kept that dark gaze on her when he reached for the button on his jeans. Her chest rose and fell as she watched him slide open the zipper, then push denim down, moving away only momentarily to shrug the garment off. He stared down at her, the look in his eyes primal and possessive.
“Rand,” she said his name on a ragged whisper and held her hand out to him. Flames from the fire reflected in his narrowed eyes.
Rand reached out and took her hand, linked his fingers with hers. He’d never seen anything more beautiful than Grace. Her hair fanned around her flushed face; sparks of red and gold danced in the wavy mass of shiny strands. Her lips were swollen from his kisses and softly parted, her eyes deep, deep green, glazed with desire. Her breasts were full, the tight buds of her velvet-soft nipples rosy. Her skin was like porcelain, a sharp contrast against his own.
He felt a need he’d never experienced with such intensity before, and the realization startled him. He quite simply had to have her or die.
His name was still on her lips as she pulled him toward her. He took her other hand and linked their fingers, then lifted her arms over her head as he moved between her legs. He entered her slowly, watched her draw in a quick breath at the initial invasion, then closed her eyes on a soft moan.
“Open your eyes, Grace,” he murmured. “Look at me.”
Her eyes drifted open again, and she met his gaze. He brought his mouth to hers, brushed her lips with his, then began to move. When she sucked in another sharp breath and tightened her body, he stopped abruptly and lifted his head to frown down at her.
“What…?”
Taming Blackhawk Page 7