by Nancy Bush
At her lack of resistance his hard grip on her scalp lessened. He drew back to look at her through heavy-lidded eyes, his breathing short and shallow.
“I think you’ve made your point,” Lexie managed to choke out. “I’ll go now.”
“Oh, you will, will you? And leave me like this?”
She wanted to misunderstand, but the pressure of his probing manhood was impossible to ignore. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said and he laughed, the sound grating on her pride.
There was the faintest amusement in his eyes as his head bent to hers once more. This time the pressure wasn’t quite so intense. His lips were mobile and persuasive, slanting across hers with sweet possessiveness, stoking flaming needs within her. Lexie’s breath came short and fast. Her hands clutched his bare arms for support, her fingers digging into the sinewy muscles.
He wrapped one arm around her, tautly, holding her so tightly that her chest felt constricted. His belt buckle dug through the shimmering silk wrapper into her abdomen. His thighs were pressed against her shaking legs. He moved to plant a series of fierce, wet kisses across her mouth and face and neck.
Wave after wave of liquid longings stormed through Lexie’s veins. His tongue thrust its way past the barrier of her teeth, teasing and taunting and plunging into the sweet, dark warmth of her mouth. His hand ran convulsively down her back and up again, his tongue deepening its insidious demands.
Lexie’s legs were water. Her knees wobbled. Tremaine wedged her against the rough wall, pressing his hips to hers in a way that had her writhing against him. She was too mindless to be embarrassed. The feel of his hard masculinity, throbbing insistently through the barrier of their clothes, was intoxicating.
He reached for the tie on her wrapper and Lexie made an involuntary whimper of protest.
“Don’t,” he commanded in a throbbing whisper near her ear, his breath hot and sweet. “I’ve wanted you too long.”
Lexie tried to speak, but his mouth closed down on hers again with raw, dizzying hunger. His hand slid down her spine, drawing tight circles against the small of her back. Her flimsy wrapper twisted taut against her breasts, outlining their fullness. The loose tie binding the thin fabric together unwound with a shameful lack of resistance, exposing a gap of skin from neck to toe.
Tremaine’s hand moved inside the fabric, sliding along her hip, and she clamped down on his fingers, her eyes wide. This was more than she’d bargained for.
His smile hurt. “Let me.”
His hand moved upward, slowly wrapping around one ivory breast. Her head lolled back, her eyes closed, a moan was wrung from her throat.
“You’re not going to marry Jace,” he growled, taking her mouth once more.
Some distant part of her mind rebelled at the autocratic way he was treating her. First Jace, now Tremaine, felt as if he could somehow force her into bending to his will. Lexie struggled but her movements seemed to make him more intent on branding her as his own. The worst part of it was her traitorous body was responding in ways that were beyond belief. When his mouth worked down her throat, closing over the stiff peak of one nipple, she gasped in pleasure.
Her hands dug into his hair. Her mind reeled. Her skin quivered beneath his mouth. Her throat was a trembling, white arch that Tremaine’s tongue licked and moistened.
Wordlessly, he pulled the wrapper from her shoulders, letting it slide to a pool at her feet. Lexie swallowed, shivering, alarmed at how far things had gotten out of control. She was going to have to stop things now.
“Tremaine — I don’t think — that is — I can’t do this.”
“Because of your intended? Why let that stop you? It hasn’t stopped Jace.”
Angry, she tried to push him away, to bend and retrieve her wrapper, but his hands circled her bare waist, pulling her intimately forward. He glared down at her.
“I’m not going to marry Jace,” she hissed. Lexie’s face was flushed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, but you’re too damn interested in seducing me into submission to give me a chance!”
“You told me he gave you an engagement ring,” Tremaine reminded her, unrepentant.
“I gave it back to him.”
She finally had his attention. “Why?” he demanded.
“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t love him. He doesn’t love me.”
“Then why did you let me believe that—” He cut himself off on a swift intake of breath. “You were trying to torture me,” he said in dawning amazement.
Lexie was embarrassed. She had wanted to nettle him about Jace. “I just didn’t like the way you were acting. You were the one who brought up Jace.”
Tremaine glanced down at her ivory shoulders, his mouth twitching as he realized what had prompted her actions tonight. Well, two could play that game. “I thought you loved him. It seems to me you said as much more than once.”
She kicked him. She couldn’t help herself. Here she was torn between passion and fury and all he could do was laugh!
Tremaine barely noticed. He pulled her to him, crushing her close, kissing her ruthlessly, fighting back laughter. His hands slid over her back and bare buttocks.
“Lexie, nothing’s changed,” he said, dragging her against him to prove his point. “You’d better get out of here if you expect me to be a gentleman.”
He handed her her wrapper and bemused, Lexie put it on. She made the mistake of meeting his gaze and she saw the way a muscle in his jaw tensed.
He stalked toward the other end of the barn; she could hear his boots thudding on the ladder that led to the loft.
Lexie drew a quivering breath, torn. She should leave. Go back to the house, to the warmth of her own bed. Curiously, she didn’t feel cold. It was then she realized a soft Chinook wind was blowing from the west; a phenomenon that raised the winter temperature, sometimes into the seventies.
She followed after Tremaine, climbing the ladder to the loft. She stopped at the edge, to see Tremaine on his back, sprawled across the blanket spread on a thick mound of hay. Another blanket lay folded beside him. Moonlight streamed blue-white through the slatted vent under the eaves, striping the surrounding hay.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Sleeping.”
“In the barn?”
He slowly levered himself upward, draping one arm across his upraised knee. “I don’t want to sleep in the same house with you. I don’t think I could. You should be glad. You’re safer there alone.”
Lexie sat on the hay-strewn loft floor, dusting off her hands. “You seem to think I’ve been in danger of losing my virginity. That’s not true. I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, really? Well, let me give you a piece of advice. If I really wanted you, I could have taken you and there’s very little you could have done about it. Remember that next time you’re alone with a man — any man.”
Tentatively, she sat down on the floor, tucking her wrapper closely around her. She kept a careful distance between them. “I was alone with Jace tonight and I fended him off.”
“What do you mean?”
She glared into his handsomely rakish face. “Jace tried to have his way with me tonight when I told him I wouldn’t marry him. I had to hit him over the head with a lantern to escape.”
Tremaine let out a string of invectives that singed Lexie’s ears. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense,” he drawled nastily. “What happened?”
“I hit him on the side of the head and he went down without a sound. Unfortunately, he was rousing by the time I left. I think he’s going to survive.”
“Too bad. The bastard. I’d like to kill him!”
“So it’s all right for you to want me, but not Jace?”
“Yes!” he growled, tossing aside all his better intentions and reaching for her again. He wanted to brand her as his own and to hell with the consequences.
Lexie turned, but he was too quick. She squirmed in his grasp, but it was no use. He was much too strong for her. She la
ughed nervously as he half-pushed her down on the blanket. “Stop it, Tremaine. You don’t really expect me to… to…”
“Yes?” He was grinning like a maniac.
“To take this any further!”
For an answer his arm curved sinuously around her waist as he sank down beside her. She opened her mouth to — what? Scream? There was no one around to hear her. He stared at her through lazy, amused eyes. Finding her voice, Lexie said crisply, “Pa and Mother will be back any time.”
“They’re spending the night at the Cullens’. You know they are.” He kissed her neck, softly, slowly, sliding open her wrapper once more.
It was one thing to flirt with danger; another to live it. Lexie sensed Tremaine was just teasing her, but she also knew she was on the verge of making love to him.
Lexie drew back, placing her hands on his shoulders. She thrust with all her strength but he was immovable. His skin was sleek; his muscles hard. After several seconds she gave up.
When his lips caressed her throat, she gave in with a soft sigh, her hands winding around his neck.
“You’re lovely,” he said huskily. In the moonglow her limbs looked long and white. Her heart pounded and she squeezed her eyes tightly closed.
“I think I must be out of my head. I can’t believe I’m lying here like — like this — and letting you kiss me.”
“Kissing you is just the beginning.”
She peered up at him. “You wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want you to, would you?”
Her innocence amused him. “No.”
“Well, I don’t want to kiss you anymore.”
“Okay. Then touch me.”
“What?”
Tremaine grabbed her hand and pressed it to the hard muscles of his chest. She tried to yank back, but the crisp hairs beneath her fingers and the strong beat of his heart imprisoned her more thoroughly than iron chains. His own hands explored her satiny flesh, running up and down her body until she was twisting and gasping.
“Still don’t want to be kissed?” he asked softly.
“Damn you.” She pulled his face to hers, fitting his mouth hungrily over hers, thrilling to the feel of his plundering tongue. His hands encircled her breast, his thumb rubbing hard over her nipple.
Tremaine was no proof against such a ready invitation. “Oh, Lexie,” he moaned. “Lexie, I want you.” His mouth closed over the taut peak his thumb had teased and readied.
Lexie jumped in startled resistance. My God! His mouth was on her breast and he was sucking with fierce dominance, drawing the nipple deeper into his mouth with each movement of his lips and tongue. Her fingers delved into his black hair, digging hard. She gasped and writhed as piercing stabs of desire shot through her.
Then she felt his mouth move downward, his tongue sampling the softness of her belly. She was shivering all over, unaware that he was deliberately stoking the fire of her desire, unaware that he meant to have her burning for him.
With a sudden twist he pulled away from her, but Lexie had barely blinked her eyes open to see why when the sight that met her eyes made her freeze. Without the slightest shame, Tremaine was pulling off his boots and breeches.
This was going too far! “No!” she gasped, closing her eyes, but not before she had received an alarmingly thorough view of his potent, male body.
“No?” His tone was amused as he sank down beside her once more, gathering her heated flesh into his hard embrace.
“Tremaine, you’re drunk. You must be. And I’m—”
“You’re what?”
She swallowed, mesmerized by the desire flaming in his eyes. “Going to be dreadfully sorry.”
His gaze suddenly narrowed on the blue bruise near her collarbone and he swept in a harsh breath. “Garrett?” he demanded in his soul-chilling voice, gently touching the tender skin.
Lexie flushed. “Uh, no. You did that. In the stables.”
The look on his face was indescribable. There was regret and pain and disbelief. He was thunderstruck. “God, I’m sorry, Lexie,” he muttered, shaken.
The honesty and tenderness of his response made her realize she loved him. Pure and simple. Even knowing he didn’t return that love. His shock at hurting her was real and touchingly vulnerable.
She lifted her lips to his on her own, raining soft, innocent kisses across his cheeks, his eyelids, the sensual curve of his mouth. Someday he might return her love.
“Lexie,” he groaned, and now it was Tremaine who sought to pull away.
Lexie had had enough waiting. And her body was hungry for his. She wound herself around him, shattering the last vestige of his resistance. But when his fingers dipped lower, covering the soft triangle between her legs, she clamped her legs together in shock.
“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he muttered against her mouth, never removing his fingers. “Do you?”
She shook her head, alarmed at the flowing moistness he could induce so easily.
“Do you want me?” he asked softly, persuasively.
She couldn’t answer.
“Do you want me?” he persisted.
“Y-es.”
It was her sweet honesty that broke his control and made him give up his tender torture. He moved over her, poised, and as he stared into her innocent, trusting face he felt a moment of indecision. He wanted her — God, how he wanted her — but what right did he have to ruin her?
Her skin was flushed and dewy with sweat. As he fought for control he felt her warm wetness flow over him. He ground his hips against hers, wringing a moan of pleasure from her. Her head was thrown back, her fingers holding shyly to his buttocks, asking for something she couldn’t name. It was Tremaine’s undoing. With a groan he muttered, “Don’t be afraid.”
She was petrified, but unable to stop. Lexie could feel his probing maleness. His hands softly tormented her and she moaned and twisted, seeking a closer union. Tremaine slowly entered her, pushing slightly deeper into her tight warmth with each stroke. Finally, when there was nothing else he could do, he drew back and plunged deep into her willing softness. Lexie cried out in pain.
“I’m sorry, darling,” he whispered hoarsely as Lexie automatically froze in preparation for another thrust. All she could think about was that he’d called her “darling.” It kept her from realizing what she’d done.
He kissed her gently. The tenderness in his gaze banished some of the shame and remorse already flooding through her veins. His lips grazed her temple and her ear, finally coming to rest on her trembling lips.
He was still buried deep within her and when he moved she stiffened. But there was no more pain. Expecting him to leave her, she was amazed and overwhelmed by the feel of him plunging deeper inside her, then easing back, plunging a little farther the next time. Sweat dampened his forehead from the concentrated effort to hold back and give her pleasure. Lexie’s lips slackened as his efforts began to have their desired effect. Something was happening inside her. Her hips arched to meet his. She admitted a little whimper of need. Spiraling sensations radiated like liquid heat from the core where his flesh stroked hers.
“Lexie, Lexie,” he rasped in anguish. “I can’t wait—”
His words sank into her brain and she reached a shattering ecstasy at that moment, crying out at the feeling of pure pleasure that engulfed her. Tremaine thrust deeply inside her with sweet, savage force and she instinctively wrapped herself around him. He gasped her name at the peak of his own climax and Lexie, still stunned by the pleasure he could give her, was stirred at the power of moving him so.
He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him, and she heard his labored breathing. “Lexie,” he murmured again, cradling her close. He sounded as astounded as she was.
“I love you,” she murmured in a heart-wrenching voice. “I love you.”
His mouth extinguished any more words. He sheltered her in his arms. She didn’t know that he couldn’t bear hearing her vow her love again. Too many times in the past he’d heard those ho
llow, empty words flow from feminine lips. He knew Lexie didn’t mean them. She was only seduced by their lovemaking.
“Shhh.” He pulled her atop him and let his hands slide down her back.
“But I do.”
“This is not,” he said deliberately, “the time to use your mouth for talking.” And he covered her lips with his own and began the glorious business of making love all over again.
Chapter Thirteen
Lexie turned over in bed, vaguely aware of the tenderness between her legs and at her thighs. She opened her eyes and watched pale sunlight stream through the window across her comforter. It’s Christmas, she thought with surprise, then with a torrent of memory: Tremaine!
His familiar scent lingered on her skin. She brought the covers to her chin, shaking as she recalled the events of the night before. She’d lain in his arms — no, participated in his fervent lovemaking!
“Oh, God,” she murmured, burying her face in the pillow.
She didn’t know how long they’d been together when the coldness of the barn had finally penetrated. Tremaine had folded her in her silken wrapper and carried her to her bedroom. Lexie had been so bemused she barely remembered. But she remembered now.
It took about thirty seconds of reflection for Lexie to pound out of bed, galvanized into action. If anyone found out…
Quickly, she brushed her hair and washed her face, pulling a muslin dress over her head, taking a moment to examine her reflection. She looked just the same. The same slightly tilted nose. The same green eyes. The same honey-blond hair. No one would know that last night she’d become a woman in every sense of the word.
Guilt and shame washed over Lexie in equal measure as she scurried down the back stairs to the kitchen. No one was about. Everyone was sleeping in, she realized with resounding relief.
She stared at the laid-out fixings for Christmas dinner. Soon Annie and Cook would arrive to prepare the meal. Everything was the same! She clapped a hand to her mouth and forced back a hysterical trill of laughter.