"So if you go to sleep, that's all right with me. I'll just snuggle up beside you. I've always wondered what it would be like to sleep with a man. It'll be fun."
Fun. Mac repeated the astounding word in his mind. Surely she couldn't be that naive? Granted, she'd never been married, but—
"Of course, that's if I decide to go to sleep,” Savannah continued with a delighted little laugh that curled his toes. “I feel as if I could do this to you all night long. Would you like it harder? You feel pretty tense. Maybe you did pull something carrying my horrible old luggage."
Mac's mind was still frozen on her offer to do it harder. With a string of oaths thankfully muffled against the pillow, he twisted onto his back.
Savannah rode the waves without a single squeak of alarm, which further infuriated Mac. Any woman with any sense would have been leaping for the other side of the bed, but not Savannah. She clenched her sweet thighs and stayed put.
Now she was astride him, looking like a naughty angel in the moonlight, regarding him quizzically as if she didn't have the slightest notion of the savage desire boiling between her legs.
Frowning, she leaned forward to peer into his face. The move opened her legs wider until she was fully embracing his arousal. Her heat seeped through his trousers as if the rough cloth was nothing more than a slip of silk, creating an inferno between them. How in the hell could she not notice it?
This time Mac tasted blood when he bit down. He grabbed her hips and held her still. If she kept on moving, he knew he'd spend himself against her. Long months of abstaining had it's draw-backs, he discovered. The irony was that he'd been saving himself for her.
Well, she was about to get him, but the biggest irony was she didn't even know it!
"Mac?"
"Be still,” he ordered.
She froze at his harsh tone, much to Mac's relief. In a tiny little voice, she said, “I hurt you, didn't I? You look like you're in agony."
Yes, but it's the sweetest kind of agony! He felt blood surge into his face. He was going to have to explain the situation to Savannah, and he wasn't looking forward to it. One wrong word, and he could lose her forever. She might turn from him, either from embarrassment, or fear. Or both.
"Savannah ... there's something I have to tell you, and I don't want you to be embarrassed.” He sucked in a sharp breath as she shifted against him. “No—be still!"
"I—I'm sorry.” She immediately became still again.
"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault.” Mac's rueful smile felt stiff on his face. “Your mother died when you were young, did she not?"
She nodded, watching him with wide, anxious eyes. Her hands rested lightly on his outstretched arms.
"Then it's possible that you don't know...” He hesitated, embarrassed beyond belief at his predicament. He wanted very badly to make love with Savannah, but he wanted her full cooperation and knowledge—and her declaration of love. “You might not know that a man doesn't have to be—have to be—in love with a woman to want to—to—be intimate with her.” There, he'd said it! Mac let out a harsh breath and waited for her reaction.
Savannah regarded him for a long, suspenseful moment. Finally, she said slowly, “Mac, are you saying that even though we're friends, you still want to be intimate with me?"
"No!” Mac shook his head, confusing himself. “I mean, yes! It's not always something a man can control,” he added quickly. “What you were doing to me ... what you're doing right now caused a reaction—"
"You mean this?"
To Mac's horror and pleasure, she wiggled her buttocks, causing a ripple of sensation along his thighs and an ominous surge in his arousal.
"But I thought—” This time it was Savannah's turn to blush. “I thought it was supposed to be like that. All the time. I've never actually seen a real one. Is it—is it always this big?"
Mac had to laugh. Savannah wasn't frightened, and she didn't seem all that embarrassed; she was curious! He would have been a lot better off if she'd been frightened, because she was still sitting on top of him, doing and saying things that made him want to forget about being a gentleman.
"Mac."
He stopped laughing at her serious tone.
"When you laughed, it felt good. Do you suppose ... that a woman could have the same reaction? I mean, even if she were just friends with the man?” As she spoke, her voice grew husky. She leaned forward again, and this time she deliberately pressed hard against the outline of his throbbing length. “Because it does indeed feel good,” she added in an awed whisper.
"Dear God!” Mac howled his agony, knowing his limit; he'd definitely reached it! “Savannah, I want you to move away from me very quickly, and forget this ever happened,” he rasped, breathing hard. She was moist—he could feel her dampness right through his trousers, feel her all around him, hot and pulsing. Maybe it wasn't too late—
"Is it ... okay if I do this, Mac?” she asked breathlessly as if he'd never spoken, sliding back and forth. “Because it feels very good. Yes, I think I want ... to ... continue."
Mac let out a guttural moan of surrender and clutched her hips, directing her moves as she continued to rub against him. In the dim moonlight, he watched as his sweet Savannah threw her head back in abandon, totally enthralled with the sensations they were creating. He freed her hips and closed his hands over her thrusting breasts. Her nipples were taut and hard. He rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, urgently.
She let out a gasp that quickly became a moan of unfettered pleasure.
"Mac ... something strange is happening to me!” she gasped, moving faster and faster.
Her innocent bewilderment fueled the flames of his raging passion. He wanted more than anything to slide inside her hot warmth and spill his seed, but knew he'd never make it in time. Her name began as a strangled whisper and ended on a shout as he began to spasm against her. “Savannah!"
"Oh, Mac, Mac, this is—it's—ahhhh!” Mouth open in shock, she collapsed against his chest and moaned into his neck. Shudders continued to rack her body.
Mac didn't know who was breathing the hardest. Both stunned and appalled by what had just happened, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. He loved her more than ever, but he never intended for this to happen—at least not yet, and not in this way.
How would Savannah feel about him now?
Later, when he determined by her soft snores that she was asleep, he tried to move her, fully intending to return to his pallet on the floor and figure a way out of the mess he'd made.
He got his answer sooner than he expected.
"Don't go,” she murmured, clinging to his chest. “We're still friends, Mac. We're still ... friends."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Ten
Warm fingers of sunlight slanting across her face woke Savannah from a deep, restful sleep. Before she could open her eyes, her mind filled with lusty images of last night with Mac.
A blush warmed her body from head to toe.
She jerked fully awake and sat up. The space next to her was empty. Scrambling across the bed, she peered over the edge.
Mac lay sleeping on his pallet in the floor, sprawled on his back with one arm flung over his face as if to block out the encroaching sunlight. Savannah let out a sigh and propped her chin on her folded arm, content to watch him as he slumbered. Her interested gaze slid along his length, paused for a moment on the bulge in his trousers, then returned to his face. He frowned in his sleep.
Savannah frowned with him. Was he dreaming about last night? The first time he'd tried to slip away from her, she had tried to assure him she expected no commitment, that they were still friends. But sometime in the night he'd left her and returned to the floor.
How would Mac feel about her this morning? She wondered. Would he be embarrassed? Regretful? Horrified? Would he think that she had fallen in love him, and worry about her feelings? Or would he be disgusted by her behavior, and believe that she was a woman of loose
morals?
She hadn't meant for things to go so far, hadn't meant to risk losing his friendship or his respect. But how was she to know that being intimate with Mac would be so wonderful? She'd only planned to touch him ... maybe do a little more of that kissing she enjoyed. Instead she'd started a fire she couldn't put out. The results had been very memorable indeed, but what happened now? Did they go back to being friends—pretend it never happened? Was Mac dreading the confrontation, or looking forward to it? He hadn't attempted to deny that he desired her. Did she dare hope his desire might eventually turn into something deeper?
Savannah sucked on her bottom lip. So many tough questions! Her instincts urged her to use her womanly wiles on Mac and see what developed, but her heart hesitated. Mac had been in her life for a very long time ... as a true and trusted friend. Deceiving him—deliberately setting out to seduce him seemed very, very wrong. Of course, she hadn't meant to seduce him last night, just get close to him.
OK, so she had miscalculated—due to her naivety concerning male body parts, and a man's reaction to a woman's touch. She hadn't known men were so easily aroused. Yet when Mac had explained in his adorably hesitant way, she hadn't shrieked with maidenly outrage, or outwardly revealed her surprise.
Perhaps she should, but Savannah could not regret what happened.
Unless, of course, Mac did.
* * * *
It was the steady drip-drip of water on his forehead that pulled Mac from the depths of the best sleep he'd experienced in ages. As a result, he awakened heavy-eyed and disoriented. Not a feeling he liked.
"Rise and shine!” Savannah sang out.
Mac focused on the lovely vision bending over him. His eyes narrowed on the pitcher of water Savannah held in her hand. “I take it that it's not raining and the roof of this crumbling castle they call a hotel hasn't sprung a leak?"
Savannah laughed. “No, no, and this crumbling castle isn't so bad. I slept like a log.” Fully dressed and looking sassy and happy, she added, “And now I'm starving. Hurry and get dressed so that we can have breakfast. Roy's working on his third stack of flap jacks."
That got him good and awake. He jack-knifed to a sitting position. “At whose expense?” he demanded.
She flashed him a sunny smile. “Yours. You know that I have no money—thanks to Ned Barlow. Now, here's your wash water."
Without preamble, she handed him the pitcher. Mac grabbed it before it soaked his lap. His gaze followed the sassy sway of her hips as she moved to the door. The hell with breakfast, Mac thought with a groan, I'll just have a helping of last night with a side order of kisses.
"I'll meet you downstairs when you're finished,” she flung over her shoulder.
The moment the door clicked shut, Mac scrambled to his feet. Savannah acted as if nothing had happened between them. He didn't know whether to be chagrined, or glad.
He gave a start as the door opened again. When Savannah stuck her head through the crack, he hastily held the pitcher in front of him. Watching the enticing swing of her bottom had awakened the mad beast again.
"By the way. I had a wonderful time last night, so if you ever need another ... back rub, just let me know."
Mac's jaw dropped at her brazen offer—and the sight of one gorgeous blue eye closing in a meaningful wink. The door slammed shut again, leaving him dazed. He pinched himself to make certain he wasn't dreaming. Had he imagined her emphasis on back, or was it only wishful thinking? Because the back rub was already a distant memory ... while the other rubbing lingered sharply in his mind.
In a daze, he took the pitcher to the wash basin and filled the bowl. He splashed his face repeatedly with the cold water, but it failed to clear his mind of Savannah's brazen offer and equally brazen wink. What had he unleashed with his inability to control himself around Savannah? By claiming he wasn't in love with her, yet able to get aroused, had he given her the wrong impression about love-making?
It was an alarming possibility. Savannah seemed mature and level-headed, but last night proved she was innocent in the ways of men. He couldn't deny the proof of her innocence pleased him, yet it dismayed him to think he may have somehow twisted her perceptions about the relationship between a man and a woman.
Mac buttoned his shirt and combed his hair with his fingers, wondering how he could reverse the damage he might have inadvertently caused. Without a doubt he would have to talk to her, explain to her that what happened between them shouldn't have happened unless they were in love, or better yet, married.
But she'd made it clear just before drifting off to sleep that she still thought of him as a friend.
Hell, how he was coming to despise the word! Yet, what if they weren't friends? Wouldn't he be one step further from getting her to fall in love? His parents had been friends before they married, as his mother had been fond of telling him. They'd had a long, loving marriage based on trust, loyalty, and friendship. Mac wanted that for himself, with Savannah. Wanted it so badly he could taste it.
And by God, he was going to do everything in his power to see that it happened. From here on out he was going to treat Savannah like the lady she was. No more embarrassing, dangerous scenes—however wonderful—like last night. Even now he flushed with remembered humiliation. If it had been anyone but Savannah, they would have laughed at the way he spent himself against her like a young boy with his first woman.
Savannah deserved his respect. From now on, that's what she'd get.
With this firm resolution, Mac quit the room and made his way downstairs to join his lady love and the brat.
He paused at the entrance of the restaurant, quickly spotting Savannah and Roy at a table near the window overlooking Main Street—or what there was of it. Roy was busy stacking thick slices of bacon onto a biscuit.
"Leave anything for me?” Mac demanded in a grumbling voice as he took a seat next to Savannah. For once Roy wasn't plastered to her side. It was a small comfort.
Roy's mouth was stuffed, so with his free hand he indicated the platters of sausage, ham, and bacon. There was steaming biscuits, gravy, and scrambled eggs. A pitcher of milk sat near Roy's elbow; there was no sign of a glass.
There was one flap-jack left on the plate. Lips twitching despite himself, Mac noticed a stream of dark molasses dripping from Roy's chin. It wasn't difficult to guess Roy's favorite.
Meeting Savannah's amused gaze, Mac couldn't hold back a smile. He glanced at the biscuit by her cup of tea. “I thought you were starving."
Roy finally emptied his mouth long enough to mumble in response to Mac's earlier question, “I ordered plenty."
"So I see,” Mac drawled, dragging his gaze from Savannah's. “Expecting an army?"
"No, just you."
Mac scowled at the brat's sassy remark. “You might recall who's paying the bill."
Apparently Savannah decided it was time to intervene. “Are we taking a carriage out to the ranch, or riding?"
"We aren't riding anywhere."
"I'm not staying here!” Savannah insisted.
"Neither am I,” Roy added, grabbing another biscuit and a slice of fried ham.
"I'm going alone, and that's final.” Mac was adamant. “If Barlow's there, he'll recognize you. He doesn't know me."
Roy hastily swallowed a mouthful of biscuit. “He doesn't know me, neither!"
"If you're going to be a bounty hunter, the first thing you need to learn is to obey orders,” Mac told Roy in his sternest voice. “You'll stay here with Savannah."
But Roy heard only part of Mac's words. “You mean you'll agree to train me?” he cried, his face lighting up.
"That's wonderful!” Savannah clapped her hands, gracing Mac with a brilliant smile that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. Suddenly, her smile faded. “What if you get into trouble? What if ... what if you need our help?"
"Yeah, you might need us,” Roy emphasized, puffing out his skinny chest like a rooster about to crow.
"I've been taking care of myself for
a long time. I think I can manage.” He hesitated before adding, “Besides, if I do catch Barlow, I'll have to force him to tell me where he's hiding the bank's money. It might get ugly."
He'd been worried about bruising Roy's pride; he'd forgotten entirely about Savannah's. She didn't hesitate to remind him.
"After last night, you still think of me as a spineless ninny?” she challenged softly. “Really, Mac. I'm hurt. I didn't run from you, did I?"
Roy, who was watching the exchange with unabashed curiosity, couldn't possibly have known the meaning behind Savannah's reference, but the knowledge did little to quell the rush of heat into Mac's face.
"Something happen that I should know about?” Roy demanded, glancing from Savannah's stubborn face to Mac's red one. He sounded injured that they might have excluded him from something.
"No,” they snapped simultaneously.
Completely ignoring Roy now, Mac focused on Savannah. God, she was so beautiful and strong! It petrified him to think of her falling into Barlow's hands. “Barlow isn't your friend, Sav. Best you remember that.” He would elaborate the moment they were alone, but for now he hoped she gleaned his meaning.
Judging by the flush that suddenly suffused her face, she did. But her chin remained high. “Can't we at least go half-way with you, make camp, and wait for your return?"
"And if Barlow was to find you before I found him?" Mac countered softly. “What then? This is a dangerous man. He not only robbed the bank of a lot of money, he intended to hold you for ransom. Have you forgotten?"
"Roy would be there, and I have my own protection. Have you forgotten?"
Mac requested a cup of coffee from a passing waitress, then stared pointedly at Roy. “Do you own a gun, brat? Do you know how to shoot?"
Roy looked offended. “Of course I own a gun."
When the boy's guilty gaze dropped to his plate, Mac prompted, “And you know how to use it?"
His silence was damning. “I was hoping you'd teach me,” Roy finally mumbled.
Slanting an I-told-you-so look at Savannah, Mac leaned back as the waitress deposited his cup of coffee in front of him. “That settles it, then. You both stay here and wait for me."
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