WILD BLOOD

by Naomi Horton

  "I was eighteen when I started making love to you. Old enough to know you didn't make love to someone without some kind of protection. I told you that first time that I'd take care of it, and most times I did. But there were plenty of times when we went too far too fast, and I didn't want to stop long enough to—" He bit off the thought, feeling suddenly ashamed. "It was wrong, not taking care of you. You were important to me, Kathy. I should have been more careful."

  "Oh, Jett." Laughter caressed the words, his name like honey in her mouth. "I was old enough to know better, too. We were kids, and we figured nothing could hurt us. But it happened a long time ago. Let's just let it go, all right?"

  Let it go? How, when he was reminded of it every time he looked at her? At Jody? He should be telling her, he thought dimly. It wasn't right, not telling her…

  She reached out and lifted off his hat, setting it on the dash. She didn't say anything for a moment, simply looking at him; then she smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. "You can kiss me now, if you want to."

  Again she managed to surprise him. But, of course, she always had. Maybe he'd been counting on that. Maybe he'd wanted to be surprised. Had wanted her to make it easy so he didn't have to think too hard about the right or wrong of it. He fought it for a heartbeat longer, telling himself he wouldn't do it. Couldn't do it. Not with such secrets between them…

  And then he simply slipped his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her toward him and dropped his mouth over hers, and that was pretty much the end of it.

  Her lips were already parted, and she kissed him back, tongue sliding against his, slippery and seductive and as tantalizing as sin itself. Her mouth was berry-sweet, and he felt his senses slip-slide away as her fingers caressed the back of his neck and she leaned into him, back arched a little so he could feel the tender pressure of her breasts against his chest.

  He caressed her back with his hands, slowly, enjoying the friction of cotton against skin, teasing himself. Knowing if he wanted to she would probably let him slip a few buttons free and fill his hands with warm flesh, but suddenly in no hurry. Leisurely, he drew one hand down and around the firm curve of her bottom and thigh; then he pulled her denim-clad leg over his.

  Past, present, future … all ran together like ink on wet paper, the edges blurring until they were indistinguishable. And with them, right from wrong. He thought fleetingly of her father, of the lies, the betrayals. Thought of the papers hidden away in the safe-deposit box in the bank, which even now, even as he prepared to make love to her, prepared to trespass beyond the trusting boundaries of her body, revealed the greatest betrayal of all.

  But then she opened her eyes and whispered his name, her gaze blurry with desire, and he forgot it all—her father, the papers, the betrayal, all of it. Forgot everything except the need reflected in her eyes and the demanding urgency of his own body, and the inarguable reality that this was all that mattered for the moment, that this was the one thing he could give her freely and without artifice or lies.

  And it was then that Kathleen realized this was what she'd wanted all along. The dance had been just a prelude to what they'd both known was going to happen, just as it would have been sixteen years ago. They'd wanted nothing back then but each other, unable to get their fill, to satisfy the wildfire consuming them.

  And that fire was as urgent as ever. His hands moved over her, following memories of their own, and her body responded just as it had all those years ago, sudden desire sizzling through her. Her breasts ached for his touch, and she arched her back again so he could fill his hands with them, teasing the nipples through denim and lace until she felt dizzy with need.

  He knew her by heart and played her from memory, every touch and erotic whisper taking her back through time. Laughing, she slipped the buttons of his shirt free so she could kiss his chest and shoulders. His skin burned against her lips, and she settled her mouth over his nipple and sucked on it, teasing it with her tongue. She could feel his heart hammering and knew by the way he flinched and groaned her name in a thick, agonized whisper that he was close to the edge already.

  She lifted her head and found his mouth and claimed it, kissing him with a slow, drugging intensity that made him groan again, one arm tightening around her to support her as he fumbled with the buttons on the front of her dress. Impatiently, she pulled his shirt out of his jeans and struggled with the heavy buckle of his leather belt, suddenly half wild to touch him, to caress him, tease him.

  She had trouble with the zipper on his jeans, and he laughed breathlessly and slipped his hand between them and pulled it down himself. And a moment later he let his head fall onto the seat back with a gratified groan as she wrapped her fingers around him. He lifted his hips involuntarily to press himself into her hand, then groaned again.

  "Kathy, Kathy … for the love of God, wait! Stop!" Managing a bark of laughter, he caught her hand and pulled it away from him. "Not yet. I don't want it to end yet. Not this way."

  He got the last button free and pulled the front of her dress open, then started kissing her throat, moving south, laying a burning trail of biting kisses down to the lacy rim of her bra.

  Kathleen had to catch her breath, and she leaned back against his supporting arm, eyes closed, and cradled his head against her. He kissed her breast through silk and lace, then settled his mouth wetly over the nipple and nursed it rhythmically.

  It sent spirals of fire through her, and Kathleen flexed her hips, pressing herself against his thigh, wanting, needing, the pressure of his body against her. She ached there, urgently aroused and half wild for his touch.

  He slipped one hand under her skirt and slowly ran it up her thigh, almost but not quite touching her. Then he did touch her, just a fleeting brush of fingertip against silk, a delicate stroke of such tantalizing promise that it made her sob his name.

  "More?" His voice was a seductive whisper against her ear.

  "Jett…" It was hard to even speak, and Kathleen had to concentrate on each word, every atom of her being focused entirely on that one, tiny molten core where her whole being seemed to be centered. "Please … please…"

  "More?" He laughed against her mouth.

  "More. Definitely more … now. Please, now…"

  "I want to set you on fire," he whispered. "Tell me what you want, Kath. Tell me what you need."

  "You know." She shivered. "You know what I want…"

  "Yes."

  His large warm hand cupped her belly, and he caressed it slowly. Kathleen let her eyes slide closed, barely even breathing, his touch so wondrous she thought she might go out of her mind before he finished. Slowly, delicately, he ran his fingers along the lacy waistband of her briefs, sliding them under it in a long, slow stroke of flesh on warmed flesh, then out, under again, fingers moving lower this time, still slow, still leisurely, as though he had all the time in the world.

  Kathleen gave an impatient wriggle, and he just laughed; then gently, with the most exquisite slowness imaginable, he stopped teasing her and eased his hand lower, fingers touching her, parting her, stroking the molten silk of her. Kathleen tried to say something but couldn't catch her breath, and then he slipped his fingers into her heat to sweetly impale her.

  She gave a gasp as he started massaging the tiny, vibrant nub with the pad of his thumb. And finally she gave up any pretense of holding herself back, not caring that she'd sworn this wasn't going to happen, that it shouldn't be happening, that she was crazy to even consider letting it happen. It was a little late now for maidenly embarrassment or shy protests, so she simply gave herself over to the sheer physical pleasure of her own body, hips moving as though of their own volition, the silken sensation of each knowledgeable stroke of his fingers like heaven itself. She shivered and moaned his name, trusting him absolutely, knowing he knew her better than she knew herself.

  Everything vanished but the deftness of his touch and the growing responses of her own body. She could hear the radio in the distance and Jett's rapid bre
athing against her ear and soft moans she thought could be her own. Was aware of the feel of his hot skin against hers, the familiar scent of him. And the tension within her, growing, growing, until she thought she was going to scream.

  And then Jett was saying something to her, his voice raw with desire … and then, suddenly, wondrously, impossibly, sensation exploded through her in an uprush of pleasure so crystalline pure it made her cry out in gratified delight.

  It faded finally, like the heat of a blush, leaving her limp with release as Jett eased her out of it so gently that she wasn't even aware when he'd taken his hand from her and was just holding her.

  And finally it was over, and she turned her head to kiss the side of his throat. "To heaven," she whispered. "And back."

  "Nice to know I haven't lost the knack."

  "The question is, have I lost mine?" Kathleen smiled and pushed him gently back against the seat. "Let's see, shall we?"

  "Not without this." He pulled down the sun visor, and a small avalanche of plastic-wrapped contraceptives tumbled into his lap.

  "Good grief!" Kathleen gave a whoop of laughter. "What in heaven's name were you planning?"

  Jett grinned and started tossing them onto the dashboardlike tiny flying saucers. "Everything I could get away with. Do you think I brought enough?"

  "I think you brought enough for the entire Pacific Fleet!"

  "Don't underestimate your sex appeal, darlin'. This may only get us started."

  Grinning, she picked one up and tore open the wrapper, her eyes never leaving his. "Do you mind if I…"

  "No," he managed to whisper, wetting his lips. "Honey, I don't mind at all."

  He draped both arms along the back of the seat, legs widespread, eyes narrowed, and made no move other than a perceptible ripple of his belly muscles as she gently and playfully sheathed him, taking her time.

  "This would be easier if we got out of the truck." She slid away from him and just as playfully finished unbuttoning her dress. "I think I'll just slip out of this first, though."

  Taking her time, she eased it off one shoulder, then the other. Then she slid out of it completely and shook it out, folding it tidily before setting it on the dash. Jett's breathing was getting labored, and she slid him an amused look.

  "More?" She paused with one fingertip under the strap of her bra and looked at him questioningly.

  He nodded with an effort, fingers flexing, although he still made no move to touch her.

  She slid the strap off her shoulder, then peeled the lacy cup away from her breast with her fingertip, watching him as he watched her, loving the desire in his eyes. She slid the other strap down in the same way, then eased the bra down one lazy inch at a time until both breasts were free.

  Jett groaned and started to reach for her, then relaxed against the seat again. "You're killin' me," he groaned through clenched teeth. "I'm dying here, darlin'."

  "You'll live," she assured him with a throaty laugh, easing herself up onto her knees. Slowly, deliberately, she slid her briefs down over her hips, the raw hunger in his narrowed eyes making her all shivery and hot inside.

  And then, naked, she looked at him. Lifted her arms to run her fingers through her hair, back arched.

  "Kathy…" His voice held dire warning.

  "More?" she whispered.

  "All of it," he growled. "Now."

  And then, suddenly, she was tired of all the teasing. That aching little tautness was back, urging her to hurry, and she started to tug his jeans down and over his hips. He raised himself up helpfully, and they came off with one good pull, and she smiled as she realized he wasn't wearing briefs.

  "You must have had trouble on your mind tonight, cowboy."

  "I had high hopes."

  "Well, then," she murmured as she knelt on the seat again and rested her hands on his broad shoulders for balance, "I guess it's only fair to give you what you wanted."

  He settled his arms around her loosely, and Kathleen lowered her mouth to his and kissed him slowly and sweetly, feeling that spark of desire deep within her blossom into something hot and urgent. She eased one leg across his bare thighs, laughing. "This is a lot more dangerous than I remember, between the steering wheel and the gearshift and that gun rack behind your head…"

  "Having second thoughts?"

  "What do you think?" She kissed him again, then very slowly lowered herself over him, flesh cleaving flesh.

  Jett groaned and let his head fall back against the seat as he thrust his hips fiercely upward, hands clamped on her hips. They stayed like that for a long, breathless moment of time, then he lifted his head, narrowed eyes blazing, and started moving.

  There was no need to say anything. Jett was watching her, his eyes burning into hers, and she shivered at what she saw there reflected in moonlight. His breathing was just a rasp, and she held his gaze, letting him set the pace, listening to the silken whisper of flesh against flesh, the hot scent of naked skin and night air and sex like musky perfume.

  And then, when it was almost time, he just smiled and slid his hands down to her thighs. He spread his legs so she was forced to spread hers, never breaking the strong, surging rhythm of his hips, and when he touched her and massaged the tiny sensitive heart of her, she gasped and nearly collapsed against him. And then it took no time at all, and within a moment or two she gave a soft cry as that now familiar uprush burst through her.

  She clung to it, to his hand, to the bright urgency unraveling within her, for as long as she could. But then Jett groaned and dropped his head against the seat back and thrust upward once, then once again, straining against her, teeth bared, and Kathleen let herself fall down, down, into that delicious place within herself, trembling slightly from the force of it.

  He lifted his head finally, and Kathleen cradled it against her as he panted for breath, tremors running through him like tiny aftershocks. And still she moved, but very, very gently now, letting him come down with her, caressing him with her body.

  "You're dangerous," he finally groaned a long while later, well after they had both stopped moving and were just wrapped in each other's embrace. "I swear to God my heart stopped cold a few minutes back."

  She sat up, his body still sheathed in hers, and smiled down at him, brushing a loop of sweat-tangled hair off his forehead. "That was twice, Sundance. I don't think I managed it twice even on your very best night sixteen years ago."

  "I was young." He relaxed back against the seat and ran his hands up and down her back. "Selfish. In too much of a hurry. Didn't know what I was doing half the time."

  "Oh, you knew what you were doing." She smiled. "I think maybe I've just improved with age."

  "Now that's something I'd figured out on my own." He kissed her breast. "This was pretty spectacular, Slick. Reckon we were on to something all those years ago?"

  "I'd definitely say that, cowboy."

  "Cold?"

  "Not yet."

  "Here." He wriggled out of his shirt and draped it around her. "Unless you were thinking of getting dressed right away."

  Kathleen kissed him lightly on the mouth, then eased herself off him. "And what were you thinking?"

  "I was thinking of just sitting here listening to the music for a while, then making love to you again. Slow, this time." He pulled an old blanket from behind the seat, then motioned for her to stand up so he could spread it across the seat. Then he sprawled back, buck naked, and grinned at her. "Real slow."

  Feeling deliciously wicked, Kathleen just grinned back, then curled up in the curve of his arm. "Do you realize we could stay out here all night if we wanted to? I don't have a curfew or school tomorrow or anything." She laughed delightedly and turned in his arms, sliding one leg between his so they were all tangled up and warm, head on his shoulder, happier than she could ever remember being. "God, I love being grown up!"

  They stayed like that for a deliciously long while, all wrapped up in each other's arms as they talked quietly, catching up on old times and new be
tween long, comfortable silences when they simply listened to the radio. Jett started the truck to run the heater a couple of times, but mostly they just lay curled up together, sleepy and warm, exchanging the occasional kiss.

  And then the kisses got longer and deeper, and the caresses went from playful to skillfully erotic, and after a long while Jett sat up and pulled her into his lap, then eased her over him, and they made love again, but so slowly and leisurely this time that it seemed to just go on forever.

  In his wildest dreams, Jett had never imagined it could be this good. This perfect. The girl he'd made love to sixteen years ago had been enthusiastic but uncertain, too inexperienced to know what she needed or how to ask for it. And God knows, he'd been no help, so quick off the mark most times he hardly had time to enjoy it before it was over.

  But that girl was gone. And in her place was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and was poised enough and self-confident enough to take it. And in taking, she gave—gave more than any woman had ever given him before, taking him places he'd never thought existed. She moved like silken witch fire, using her body and hands and sly, sweet mouth to coax sensations from him he'd never dreamed possible, and just when he thought he couldn't take any more, she would take him somewhere even higher.

  Although it finally got away from her in the end, and she lost touch with him for a while, caught in the delights of her own body. And Jett, grinning, made it as good for her as their awkward surroundings allowed, driving her right to the edge time and again and then holding her back from it, letting it build to an almost unbearable heat until, finally, he took her that last fire-bright distance.

  She gave a low, hoarse cry and arched away from him, her body as taut as a bowstring, the muscles in her belly rippling as she sought to capture those last elusive threads of sensation.

  It nearly swept him over the edge then and there, watching her in those last moments of it, hearing her quick, sharp cries. But he held on by a thread and stayed with it, with her, as long as he could, relishing the near pain of it, never wanting it to end.