Outlaw

by Lisa Plumley

  She cupped her palms around his shoulders and held him slightly away. “Stubborn? Stubborn women?”

  “Mmmm.” He swirled his tongue in a gentle arc along her lower lip, then suckled it. His eyes closed, and so did Amelia’s—for a moment.

  She’d never have guessed it would be so hard to kiss and have a conversation at the same time. His touch made her wits fairly scatter.

  “Have you known so many stubborn women, then?”

  “None so stubborn as you,” Mason replied, his gaze still on her lips. “And none I wanted like this. God, I need you, Amy.”

  His hands slid warmly to her shoulders. His fingers slipped beneath her chemise strap, stroked the skin it hid, then hooked it away from her shoulder. He pressed his lips into the curve of her neck, setting her skin atingle.

  “Mmmm…so beautiful.”

  “Mason…”

  “Shhh.”

  Frowning slightly, he traced a reverent path from her shoulder to her upper arm, then lifted her chemise strap and slid it in place again. Disappointment made Amelia twist beneath him, silently urging him to go on touching her.

  His hands cupped her jaw, and his fingers delved into her hair. “I’ll give you everything you need,” he promised with a kiss. “Everything. Everything…”

  The rest of his words were lost in the heat and weight of his long, hard body pressed lovingly on hers, in the feel of his hands scooping between Amelia and the mattress to flatten against her shoulder blades and hold her closer. His taut muscles pressed against the sides of her bosom, evidence of the masculine strength Mason kept so firmly in check, but his arms supported her effortlessly.

  Amelia writhed against him, loving the feel of their bodies together, loving the differences between them. She cupped the stubble-roughened stretch of his jaw as he kissed her, inhaled the musky, male scent of his skin, and knew that lying with him would forever transform her. How could she not love him more, after sharing so much?

  Moaning, Mason lifted her higher against the pillows, then paused to spread her hair across their cotton softness. His fingers combed through her curly unbound strands, his knuckles trembling slightly as they brushed her cheeks. He raised his gaze to hers, and the tenderness she saw there whisked the breath from Amelia’s lips.

  “There’ll be no rushing this,” he warned, and though his voice sounded harsh with the effort his restraint cost him, his eyes were gentle. “Not when I’ve wanted you for so long.”

  “But we’ve only known each other for days,” she whispered.

  “It feels like forever.”

  His thumb stroked across her cheekbone, then lowered to her mouth. Softly, she felt it sweep the fullness of her bottom lip.

  She kissed it, savoring the sound of his indrawn breath. Emboldened by the knowledge that her touch could affect him, too, Amelia bit down gently, testing her teeth against the pad of his thumb. He moaned and she captured his hand in hers.

  “Love me,” she whispered, tugging his hand toward her shoulder. “Show me how to love you.”

  Anticipation swirled in her belly, tightening into an aching need to feel his hands stroking her again. His eyes darkened and Mason complied, slipping her chemise strap aside. The gentle rasp of its lace edge felt a hundred times more intense than usual against her skin, his caressing fingertips a thousand times more arousing.

  Amelia closed her eyes as his fingers fluttered across her shoulder, dipping low enough to brush her collarbone. His shirt sleeve, then the warm inside of his wrist, touched the upper swell of her breasts, awakening every inch of sensitive skin. Mindlessly, she leaned forward, seeking more.

  “Ahhh, so soft…” he said, turning his hand to skim his knuckles along the lace-trimmed edge of her chemise.

  She opened her eyes and just glimpsed his large, tawny-skinned hand as it glided over the paler, softer slope of her breasts. The erotic sight only made her breath come faster and her yearning increase as, with his other hand, Mason stroked his thumb past the wild pulse in her throat.

  As though he’d commanded it, her heartbeat quickened.

  Longing for his hands to move lower, Amelia bit her lip and tossed her head. “Please,” she moaned, hardly recognizing the breathless, ragged voice she heard as her own.

  Mason recognized it. Answered it. With a fierce, possessive smile he tightened his hand on her neck and drew her to him. His lips descended on hers with a bruising force she welcomed.

  Kissing, licking, biting, he mastered her mouth and set her senses burning with need. Beneath her questing hands his big body shuddered, then his hips thrust into the cradle of her thighs. Heat emanated from him, searing through the thin fabric of her chemise and pantalets, and the rigid proof of his desire made Amelia gasp.

  At the sound, Mason stilled. Breathing hard, he shifted atop her so they barely touched, his hair dark and pillow-tossed, his eyes closed. Atop his thighs, his fists clenched. Confused, she touched his chest, palmed his soft swirls of hair, whispered his name.

  He threw his head back, exposing the lean line of his throat. He swallowed hard. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, spreading his fingers apart to relax his fists. “I need…”

  “…you. This.”

  His voice ground away beneath a moan. The bed springs creaked as Mason settled back further on his heels, then finally opened his eyes.

  They were filled with love.

  Filled with love and longing—a longing belied when he slid her chemise strap up again. Amelia bit her lip, wanting to scream as Mason’s fingers outlined the thin strap, smoothing heat into her shoulder.

  Slowly, he lowered it. “It’s hard to wait for you, Curly Top,” he said, kissing the heated line he’d drawn.

  “But I want this to last.” He raised it again. Tremors raced across her shoulders and tingled down her arms, making her seize the opened ends of his shirt for support. He was going to drive her crazy, crazy with wondering and needing and the dizziness that swamped her every time he caressed her.

  “Easy,” he murmured, squeezing her arms, and the leisurely movements of his big hands felt as frustrating as they did soothing. He slid his hands upward to her shoulders, this time slipping away both chemise straps at once.

  Her chemise drooped, letting cooler air wash over the tops of her breasts. Automatically, Amelia held it up with one hand. The motion pushed her bosom higher, and Mason’s hungry gaze went straight there, lingering on the bare skin he’d revealed. He lowered his head and reached for her, and she held her breath, already feeling the glide of his fingertips against her skin, the pressure of his hands on her shoulders.

  Instead, he tipped her head back and kissed her. His hands tangled in her hair as the hungry demands of his mouth increased and his tongue slipped inside to stroke hers.

  This was no tender, easy kiss, yet an answering need swelled within her, amazing in its ferocity. Amelia dug her fingers into the knotted strength of his shoulders and held on, opening her mouth wide to receive his kiss, pressing hard against him. As of their own accord, her hands spread apart his shirt. Eagerly, she tugged it over Mason’s shoulders.

  The kiss ended and she sank into the piled-up pillows, her lips swollen and wonderfully tingling. His shirt dropped from her fingers. Looking up, she saw that the low lit lamp glowed just enough to reveal Mason’s broad shoulders, his lean-muscled middle…his wicked smile.

  “Oh!” Amelia cried, embarrassed at being caught watching him, yet too curious to stop. She lay her palm flat against his chest, where his heart beat wildly as her own, and felt an answering smile quirk her own lips.

  She licked them, trying to regain a shade of composure, and failed. “You’re…you’re beautiful,” she whispered. “So strong and beautiful and—”

  “So are you.”

  Mason stared, his intensity confusing her until she felt his warm hands cup her breasts and realized her chemise had drifted to her waist while they kissed. Her nipples rose against his palms and she hardly dared breathe, lest he stop touchin
g her. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful. His hands traced her, shaped her, gently squeezed, and the heated glide of his skin on hers drove all else from her mind.

  He moaned and Amelia arched higher, baring herself to him. Nothing mattered more than the pleasure of his touch, the feel of his hard, gentle body against hers. His thigh settled between her legs, sending warmth clean through his heavy twill pants and her pantalets to her skin beneath. Mindlessly she tightened her thighs around the granite length of his thigh, tilting her hips higher to ease the pressure building within.

  Mason cupped her cheek, stroked the curve of her ear, kissed her as though he were a drowning man and she the air he needed to breathe. Again and again his lips met hers, his mouth devouring, his hands caressing her face, her neck, stroking back her tousled hair. More and more emboldened, Amelia swept her hands across his back, traced his spine…returned his kiss with a passion she’d never known herself capable of.

  Love, love whirled between them, sweetening every touch. When he cradled her breasts in his hand, he held more than her body—he held her heart. And even without flowery words of love, his care for her sounded in every sigh, every moan—made itself known with every shared look. There could never be enough of such union between them, and the knowledge soared through her soul, transforming her…imparting the courage to give back all the pleasure she received.

  Amelia caressed his shoulders, buried her fingers in the softness of his hair until it tickled beneath her nails and its soapy washed scent filled her nose. She urged his head closer and Mason came eagerly, pressing her breasts beneath his chest as he lowered his mouth to her neck and suckled. His tender nip just beneath her ear sent fresh shudders through her.

  “You taste like spring,” he murmured against her earlobe.

  His teeth nibbled at its sensitive flesh, sending a jolt of pleasure from her head to her belly and lower. She held him tighter, gasping. Her response was rewarded with the soft swirl of his tongue tracing the outer edge of her ear, then by the return of his hands to her breasts.

  “Yes,” Amelia cried, twisting to push herself more fully into his hands. Mason watched her, his eyes glittering with barely leashed need. He plucked his fingers gently from the curved slope of her breasts to their taut peaks, ending each stroke with a delicacy that made her quiver.

  His loving went on, and she nearly wept his name, consumed with the wanting of something she couldn’t describe, let alone ask for. Filled with frustration, she ran her hands from his chest downward, holding, stroking until she reached his belly and then moving lower to grip his steely thighs.

  A moan rumbled from her throat, shocking her, but Amelia was beyond caring. The next sensuous stroke of his hands on her breasts set her trembling helplessly. Her fingers kneaded his thighs and the squeezing relieved the pressure, but not enough. Never enough.

  Yet somehow, somehow, Mason understood. Briefly, all too briefly, his hands cradled her breasts completely, and his mouth found hers in a searing kiss. Sucking slowly, nibbling, he gentled their contact until nothing remained between them but leisurely kisses and—to Amelia’s profound dismay—her chemise as he covered her with it again.

  She felt like ripping the garment aside. She managed nothing more than a sigh as Mason’s hands came to rest on her knees, then slid upward, stealing her attention afresh. Her thighs tensed and drew slightly together, automatically shielding her femininity from him. He stilled…but his hands remained where they were.

  “Amy?” Mason leaned down, kissed her. His breathing sounded at least as labored as her own. “Only if you want this.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. In the lantern’s half-light he looked a stranger suddenly—one intent and drawn tightly with a need she instinctively recognized.

  “But tell me now,” he said, wrapping his hands fully around her knees as though prepared to wrench her legs apart, to take her then and there. “Tell me.”

  Everything womanly inside her urged Amelia to go forward. Biting her lip, willing herself to trust enough to open to the man she loved, she arched her neck into the coolness of the pillows.

  “Yes.”

  Her smile felt tremulous. His was fierce, male, triumphant. Still Mason’s hands remained on her knees, unmoving as slowly, shyly, she relaxed against the mattress. She wanted this, wanted to know him fully. Wanted so much to experience every part of love.

  Before long, she wanted nothing more than for his hands to go on caressing her. She mimicked his motions, hesitantly squeezing his thighs as he straddled her…and still he waited. When at last his hands moved, they stroked languidly toward the apex of her thighs and back again, at once exciting and frustrating her anew. Digging her thumbs into his pants legs, Amelia ground her teeth.

  Mason saw, and smiled. “You touch me,” he murmured, inching his fingers higher, “and I burn.”

  His expression turned serious, yearning…and inexplicably determined. Beneath his palms, even her kneecaps tickled, teased into a sensitivity she’d never imagined. Between her legs, a slow ache began, merging into her heartbeat and quickening with every moment he delayed.

  His thumbs brushed the insides of her knees. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his eyes following the path she hoped his hands would make next. “…so beautiful, and mine.”

  His hands tightened, then began moving. His breath broke, then quickened. “I touch you—and I’m alive again.”

  Helplessly, Amelia nodded, transfixed by the rugged sweep of his voice and the meltingly slow crawl of his fingers on her thighs. Higher, higher, they traveled, and beneath them she felt her bones turn to warm honey, useless to support her.

  “Yours, yours—please,” she begged. Through half-closed eyes she glimpsed his loving smile, and knew he’d meant every word of his warning to her.

  There’ll be no rushing this.

  The throbbing deepened between her legs, became a demand that consumed her. Quivering, pinned beneath his hands and the intensity of his gaze, she waited for his stroke to ease the ache inside her. Mason’s fingertips branded through her thin cotton pantalets, slid higher…brushed past her woman’s mound to capture her hips and squeeze them in his powerful hands.

  Her whole body responded to his possessive grasp. Unthinking, she thrust upward and the pressure within increased, spiraling from the juncture of her thighs to her hips and further. She gasped, loving him, loving his hands that kept her safe, grounded her, led her upward again with the hard length of his thigh for support. Tremors shook her, leaving her breathless.

  “Easy,” Mason whispered, ducking his head to kiss her, “easy, it’s all right.”

  His hands slid over her ribs, covered her breasts, and even through her chemise she felt her nipples tighten to meet his palms. “Ahhh, you feel so good, so good…”

  He rubbed slow, sensuous circles over her breasts, and the gentle abrasion of her chemise against her overheated skin heightened every motion. Amelia writhed closer, let her hands rove from his thighs upward. His stomach contracted when she touched him there, and each feathery stroke of her fingertips made him suck in his breath.

  She had that effect on Mason…maybe even made him feel as good as he did her. The thought burst forth in a surge of wholly feminine pride, then vanished beneath the increasing urgency his hands on her breasts created. She wanted her chemise gone, wanted to feel his chest bare on hers…wanted.

  With a growl of need he wrenched her chemise to her waist, baring her completely, and she…wanted. He cupped her breasts, lowered his head, and drew one taut peak into the soft, wet warmth of his mouth, and she wanted…wanted this. Wanted his mouth on her, wanted to bury her fingers in his hair and hold him to her so he’d never stop.

  His tongue licked velvety against her nipple, then his mouth slid to her other breast, trailing warm, sweet breath and ripples of delicate sensation. He sucked, and Amelia half flew from the mattress, lost in the tug of his lips, the drag of his tongue, the piercing need that arrowed from her breast to her
heels and everywhere in between. She moaned, and his thumb stroked across her other nipple, drawing it to stiff attention.

  More, more than she’d imagined and yet they still weren’t close enough. She clutched Mason’s head, gasping as he loved her, aroused even by the gentle rasp of his shadowed beard against her skin. Her breasts felt heavy, tingling…needing, and he gave willingly, eagerly…expertly. She’d have given anything to stay forever beneath his hands and mouth, and as his loving went on, she knew what it meant to surrender completely.

  Trembling, Amelia savored his mouth on her breasts, his hands stroking long, curved pathways from her shoulders to her ankles and leaving no part of her untouched. Mason kissed her, holding her to him with one big hand splayed across the back of her head, holding her captive for the mastery of his lips, his tongue, his heated gaze. He saw her and loved her, and if she hadn’t heard the words from him, she knew in her heart that he felt them.

  He loved her.

  She knew it and rejoiced in it, and the knowledge freed her to return his kiss, to respond fully…to show him how much she wanted him, too. Amelia clawed at her pantalets’ drawstring. Her fingers tangled, clumsy without her full attention to their task. His next kiss turned them nerveless, and a moment later the plucking softness of his hands at her breasts curled her fingers into desperate fists.

  Mason’s hands covered hers, squeezed her fists, and a satisfied sound rumbled from his throat. “Let me,” he murmured, drawing her clenched fists to rest alongside her hips.

  He held them there, pressing her wrists into the timeworn quilts beneath them. His gaze roamed over her with an intensity that made her want to squirm, to cover herself…to stop the involuntary tightening of her nipples and the quickening of her breath.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, releasing her wrists. His fingers trailed up her hip, across her belly toward the drawstring.

  Now—now he’d pull the narrow fabric strip that hid her from him. Now he’d ease her pantalets away, let them join his shirt on the floor beside the bed, look at her nakedness with the hot appreciation the rest of her had already earned. Now he’d touch her where she needed his loving most. The spiral inside her wound tighter, throbbed more with each heartbeat. Anticipation made her bite her lips as his hand neared the drawstring.