And now she knew the lie. She had not come to assuage her conscience, she had come for him, and she had to struggle against it as hard as possible.
When she didn’t move toward him, he walked slowly into the room. “Let’s see the rest of the house.” His voice was flat, even-toned. Whatever she was feeling, he was sure she still wanted him and he was willing to wait.
He showed her the separate kitchen, with its immense cooking fireplace, iron stove, and oven. He showed her his bedroom on the first floor, off of the parlor. It too had its own fireplace, and a large comfortable looking bed, a dresser, and a hooked rug on the floor. He led her upstairs to show her the two bedrooms in the eaves of the house, and then down to the root cellar, where wooden boxes contained neatly labeled jars of fruit and vegetables.
“The wife of one of the men cooks for me,” he said, although she had not asked for explanations. She was thinking how very self-sufficient he was. Such a comfortable home, built, she was sure, over the last five or six years since his parents had died. He needed nothing more than someone to keep house and make sure there were stores and that he was well fed, that and occasional surcease for his desires. And that, she thought acidly, was easily found in town. For a price.
He hardly needed her.
In a corner of the parlor, close by the kitchen door, there was a plain oak table and chairs. She chose to draw one of these out and sit in it rather than make herself at home on the sofa. His expression wavered between amusement and gravity as he joined her.
“You definitely have something on your mind, Maggie, and I get the feeling it is not our mutual enjoyment.”
“You’re a perceptive man, Logan.”
“Was it an easy trip here?”
“Forty-five minutes from town, as you well know.”
He nodded. “A pleasant trip, Maggie.”
“Except perhaps in the winter,” she retorted as his direction became evident.
“Winter days and nights can be very pleasant in front of a fireplace—with the right company.”
She swallowed hard and plunged ahead. “I don’t doubt it. But not this company, Logan.”
“Oh no? How so?”
“For all the reasons you know, and for some that have become evident just in the brief time since …”
“Is there something you want that we haven’t explored yet, Maggie?”
Crystal clear images of his explorations drifted into her mind, behind her eyes, insistent, as real as real. “We were almost caught the last time,” she reminded him tartly.
“We don’t have to put ourselves in that position, Maggie. You know that.”
“No, I thought about it, Logan. There is no way possible to keep up what we’re doing that is sane and makes sense to both of us.”
“You came to tell me that?”
“Face to face.”
“Brave Maggie. There is a very sane way and you know it.”
“I live in town. I work in town. I am not ready for a family. I’m surely not ready to consider marriage again. What sane way, Logan? Mother Colleran snoops, and Reese thinks I arranged myself downstairs that night just for him. He keeps waiting for some concrete invitation and I feel like a fraud.”
“But you’re very real, Maggie. That is why you are here right now. You want what we have, Maggie, just as much as I do. I don’t even care what you call it. It doesn’t matter. And you want a sane, sensible, comfortable way to continue it.”
How right he was, she thought, girding herself. How much she would have given if the end result did not have to be a marital vow. How lucky men were that they could take that sensual pleasure freely wherever it was offered and never had to count the cost even when they paid for it.
“I thought of a sensible solution,” she said firmly.
He gave her a skeptical look. “I’m waiting to hear.”
“You find someone else,” she said succinctly, cutting to the heart of it. When he did not respond she went on, “Someone who is free to fall in love and perhaps to get married. Someone who is used to the kind of life you lead. Someone who wants a family. …”
“I see,” he said flatly. “And who is this paragon?”
She looked away from him. “Annie Mapes.”
He made a strangled sound. “Annie? You’re telling me that you want me to give you up and court Annie instead? You want me to make love to Annie Mapes the way I make love to you? You want me to—”
“You do not have to paint in the details, Logan.”
“I think I do.”
“She’s perfect for you, and a lot more compliant than I am.”
“That’s for sure,” he muttered. “Of all the goddamned things. Annie Mapes … She’s got as much gut in her as the fence post outside. You remember her as a kid? You tried everything and she cried about everything. Hell, Maggie, that’s not even a compliment.”
“It makes sense to me. There is just no way that …” She started to get up. She would tangle herself up in her words if she kept on trying to make sense of it to him when it already made so much sense to her. She was not available; Annie was; and Logan needed someone. Simple.
“Leaving?” he asked lazily.
“I think I’ve made my point.”
“I’ve yet to make mine.”
“There can’t be any discussion about this, Logan.”
“Not if you don’t want there to be.”
“I guess I don’t. I can’t see where it could lead because we’re both so strong-willed. You would want your way and I most certainly would want mine.”
“Oh, I definitely want my way, Maggie.”
“That’s settled then.” She turned to the door, aware that he shoved his chair out and was preparing to follow her. She kept her back to him as she made for the door, but she could not close out his words.
“Nothing’s settled, Maggie, when you want to hand me over to Annie Mapes and tell me you want me to transfer all the feelings I have for you to her. You sure you want that, Maggie? All those feelings? All those things we did? What kind of lover do you think she will be? Willing? Scared? Do you think she will touch me the. same way you touched me? Do you think she’ll let me know her naked body the same way I know yours?”
She kept going, knowing that if she stopped there would be no end. She reached for the doorknob and threw open the door.
“Do you think …” his voice followed her, “do you think her kisses will taste so luscious to me, do you think…”
He followed her out the door. He had one last chance, one desperate gamble.
“Do you think,” he called to her, “I would really let you walk away?”
She heard the words the same moment she felt the thick rough rope circle her hand and land emphatically around her shoulders. He pulled and the lariat tightened around her arms. She didn’t try to fight it. He was stronger and she was immobilized, and she did not know how she felt about it.
He pulled her gently back to him and wound the rope around her one more time. Without a word, he hoisted her up on his shoulder and carried her back into the house.
“What are you doing? What are you going to do with me? Logan! Logan …” But she knew; there could only be one destination. He dumped her on his bed and kicked the door closed.
“Just what I expected,” she muttered, yanking at the rope. “Your solution is to hog tie me and then try to seduce me.”
“Nothing of the sort, Maggie.” He sat down next to her and began loosening her bonds. “Let’s just say the situation called for drastic measures.”
“And the door is locked, of course.”
“A precaution.” He looked amused.
“And you think all you have to do is kiss me and I’ll capitulate.”
“Never, Maggie. I certainly think it will take a lot more than one kiss. However, I promise you I’m not going to kiss you.”
“So you’ll touch me first; you know just where I am vulnerable.”
He shook his head. “Maggie, Maggie, Maggi
e. I won’t lay a hand on you, now that I know you’re willing to have another woman submit to my caresses.”
She snapped her teeth together. “I don’t understand it. What is the point of this?”
He smiled at her conspiratorally. “I don’t want to let you go.”
“You are crazy. How long am I to be kept here?”
“As long as it takes, Maggie.”
“And you’re not going to …” Did she feel the faintest pang of disappointment when he shook his head. “What are you going to do, Logan?”
“Why, I think I’ll get comfortable, Maggie.”
It was the last thing she expected him to say. “It sounds like you intend to keep me here for a long long time,” she said grumpily, and then she bolted upright. “What are you doing?”
He was taking off his clothes. She watched wide-eyed as he shucked them all, one by one, and tossed them across the room until he was buck naked.
She stared at him in fascination. Daylight became him; the sun streaming in through the window played on all the male angles of his body. His legs were long and muscular to the juncture of his thighs, where his potent masculinity rose, long and angular, utterly entrancing. His hips and stomach were flat and lean, and his chest broad and muscular, with a mat of hair that crept deliciously downward. When he bent over to retrieve his clothing from the floor she had a clear view of the long line up his back that sloped down to his hips and bottom and his firm male buttocks.
He sat down at the foot of the bed opposite her, one leg angled up and the other braced on the bedrail. His one arm rested along the footboard, the other balanced on his knee. He did not say one word.
She knew why; he had thought to shock her, to arouse her, to make her capitulate. She kept her eyes steadily on his, resentful of the little smile she could just see playing around the corners of his mouth. It became a challenge for her not to look at him, one she was determined to win because he had so flagrantly presented himself to her for just that purpose.
She would not let him get away with it. A male body was a male body, whether it was dressed or not. It was a simple matter of just not looking at him.
The silence stretched out between them. The air thickened, becoming hot with her determination. She was losing. After a long long time she understood she was losing. It didn’t matter if he were dressed or naked now; she was filled with the wanton awareness of him and his erotic prowess, and she only wanted to give in to it. She did not need to feast her eyes on him—the image of him was in her consciousness as clearly as if she were staring at him.
The atmosphere became electric with possibilities. He did not move, he did not say a word. He waited.
She felt the awareness of his nakedness arousing her like nothing else before. The sense of him waiting for her excited her unbearably. Oh, he wasn’t going to seduce her, she thought, just a little provoked by his tactics. He was just going to sit there naked, blatantly male, and drive every sane thought out of her mind as she imagined things she could do, things she would feel if only she made a move toward him.
What would he do? He would take her into his arms and pull her tightly against him and she would feel gorgeous manhood hard against her body. She would hold him, she would kiss him, she would run her hands all over his nakedness, she would grasp the essence of him and explore what it could mean to her. She would love the contrast between his being naked and her being clothed, and yet, it wouldn’t be enough just to have the freedom to feel his body. She would want the melting sensation of it next to her skin. She would want …
She shook her head violently. She knew what she would want, what the vision of that wondrous living heat of him would arouse in her.
She felt her body expanding for him, her femininity yearning for him. She was made for him, and his ramrod member made her achingly aware of the emptiness in her.
But she could have him, she thought. She could just reach over and … She swallowed convulsively at the idea of taking the whole of his towering manhood into her hands. Her eyes changed, flickered with a lambent light of arousal.
“Maggie, come kiss me.” His voice was sensual, commanding, as he sensed her readiness. She sent him a provocative little look and then allowed herself to rest her sultry gaze on the rampant maleness brazenly revealed to her. Then she inched her way toward him, never moving her eyes from his nakedness until she felt his hands reach out for her and haul her up against his bare chest.
It became all one sensation—his mouth crushing down on hers, open, seeking, his arms closing around her and his legs wrapping her in a sensual embrace so that the whole of his nakedness was aligned with her body and she could feel every long hard thrusting inch of him against her.
His kisses were long and slow and thorough, and she gave herself to them as his tongue explored every exquisite inch of her mouth. Slowly and slower still, he rolled her over so that they were laying side to side with his arms and legs still surrounding her in their erotic embrace.
But now her hands were free to explore his nakedness, and she reveled in the sensation of touching him wherever she wanted to. Her wanton hands roamed all over him; there was not an inch of him she did not caress and feel and stroke.
He was totally at her command. He kissed her just the way she wanted him to, he moved with her just the way she wanted him to, and he whispered love words to her as she grasped him and began the ageless drive to completion, totally in control of his desire.
And when he lay spent in her arms, she wanted him still more.
But there was time, there was time. He had said there were other ways, and other ways there were, but her need for him now was so intense she thought she would explode with it.
She wanted to arouse him again to the same pulsating peak, but she didn’t know what to do. She held him lightly in the same sensual way and kissed him urgently, trying to tell him with the movements of her body and her lips and tongue that she wanted him.
He felt her driving need and wanted to prolong it, to make her so wild with wanting him that she would seek the only culmination possible. He wanted to arouse her to the same fever pitch as he had felt for her. He wanted her hands all over him again with the same erotic desire to feel his nakedness. He invited her to play with him with his langorous motions. He covered her mouth with deep carnal kisses and felt the spurt of renewed desire.
She felt it in her hands, the lusty surge of him. Her kisses grew frantic with urgency. His hands reached for her, and she blindly remembered she was still dressed. She couldn’t wait for him to strip her. She wanted to take off her clothes for him. She eased herself away from him and his hot demanding kisses, away from his pulsating body.
Now she could see he was becoming aroused again. He lay there propped on one elbow, waiting to see what she was going to do.
She unbuttoned her dress and slid it off her arms, letting it fall to the floor. Then she unhooked her corset and tossed it across the room. She touched her stiff peaked breasts under the shroud of the thin camisole she wore, then slid the neckline down so that her breasts were naked for him to see. She sat down on the bed to slide off her cotton stockings, uncovering her legs with slow, seductive grace.
Finally she stood up and slid off all over her underthings so that she was totally naked and ready for him.
And he was ready for her. Every erotic movement she had made aroused him still more. She knelt on the edge of the bed, wanting him, her body vibrated with need of him. He reached for her at that moment and pulled her naked body against his.
The ecstasy of bare skin against bare skin was almost overwhelming. He knew just what she wanted: the hot touch of his tongue against her mouth, the slide of his fingers against her nipple, the touch of his hand sliding down her writhing buttocks as she thrust herself closer and closer to his nakedness.
She was all honey, ready for him, grinding her hips against his hard heat in primitive invitation. Her mouth was all honey, as open to his carnal caress as the rest of her shimmering body.
He rolled her on top of him so that she lay directly over his hard staff. He wanted her melting for him, demanding nothing less from him than the fullness of his manhood. Her body writhed with pleasure as he aroused her still more with his torrid caresses.
“Maggie.” He whispered as his hands explored her inch by inch. “Tell me what you want.”
She felt his hands sleeking down her buttocks. She felt the thrusts of his elongated male member. She thought of how it had become hard again just for her. She felt his caress of the taut nub of her nipple. She moved her legs and straddled his hips so that she could rub herself against that towering staff. “I want you,” she breathed. “I want you.”
She felt him cover her mouth again, then his hands slowly stroked her body downward, toward her velvet center. He caressed her there until she moaned with wanton need. And then, and only then, did he position himself over her and with one long thick lush stroke enter her welcoming fold.
The sensation of him filling her was indescribable. He was there, so thick and so hard and long that there seemed no end to him and no beginning to her.
She angled her legs outward so that she was totally open to him, and they lay this way for a long tantalizing time. He kissed her over and over, caressing her with his tongue. When he felt the tension in her escalate he moved, and she thought she would explode with joy.
This was what she needed, his thick, hard length driving into her, on and on and on. She loved the feeling of his male essence contained within her, enfolded by her, pleasuring her with each virile thrust, loved the knowledge that she was the one who had aroused him. She rocked against him, rotating her hips against him, enticing him into the mystery of her fathomless femininity.
“You were made for me,” he whispered into her mouth, into her soul. “You are mine,” and the words resonated in her heart.
He was perfect for her. The hard luscious length of him fit her exquisitely. The flatness of his hips aligned with hers flawlessly so that the intimate core of her was centered exactly on him. She could touch him everywhere, with her hands, with her feet, and she could look into his eyes and see the same sensation she was feeling mirrored there, stunning in its shared intensity.
Thea Devine Page 17