And once he’d touched her, her mind had gone blank to anything other than feeling him. Wanting him. Needing him. For those few minutes, she’d forgotten about her scars, her past.
Their breaths were loud in the quiet kitchen. Travis’ body touched her from shoulders to knees as he held her, his arms crossed over her waist. She could feel the press of his still-engorged penis against her butt.
“You okay?”
The sound of his low, gravelly voice made her shiver. His breath on her ear made her muscles tense. Her breasts ached. Her pussy throbbed.
She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, even though she was far from all right. For four years she’d told herself she didn’t need the touch of a man. That when it became too unbearable, she could take care of herself and find her own sexual releases. But how could she think that now after she knew what just his kisses could do to her?
One arm released her. She made to move away from him, but then he bent and scooped her into his arms. She yelped and wound one arm around his neck even as she grabbed the front of her blouse to cover herself.
Two things registered. He hadn’t pulled away from her in disgust. And no man had ever lifted her so easily. She was five-ten and not exactly a lightweight. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, not knowing what to expect—to hope for—next.
He carried her through the kitchen and up the stairs. He turned into her room at the head of the hallway, carried her across the rug to the bed, then slowly lowered her to her feet. She let go of him and stood staring at the front of his shirt through the dim light filtering in from the yard.
Travis cupped her cheeks in his warm touch. “Look at me, princess.”
She shook her head and closed her eyes, still gripping her shirt closed at her breasts with one hand. She didn’t want to see his face, his expression. Couldn’t bear to see pity or...or whatever might be there.
His hand slowly moved from her left cheek to her shoulder, down her arm. “Is this why you wear so much clothing? To hide?”
She swallowed. Nodded. Her throat was thick with too much emotion when she said, “I can’t expose the scars to the sun.”
His body moved closer to her. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the radiant heat from him, his breath on her face. She felt the tug of his fingers pulling the blouse from her fingertips. She gripped it tighter and shook her head. She couldn’t. Couldn’t expose herself to him.
“Shh.” His lips grazed her forehead, her cheek, across her mouth. His hand closed over hers then pulled down and away from her breasts. “You don’t need to hide from me, Neela.”
There was something in his tone that made her open her eyes and look at him. His voice sounded thick, pained. His fingers caressed the side of her neck while he pushed the blouse open with his other hand. His gaze was on her face, though, not her body. And in his eyes she saw tenderness, not pity.
“I have so many questions,” he whispered. “But only one that you have to answer now.”
She shook with longing. A need to be back in his arms. To feel his mouth on her again. To know that she wasn’t repulsive to him. Her Travis. The man who had lived in her heart for so many years.
“Can I make love to you?” He seemed so unsure of himself. She could feel a slight tremble in his fingers as they so softly caressed the rise of her breast.
She had no illusions that an affair with him would lead anywhere. Their worlds were too different. He saw her as a princess, someone from another planet. He’d said the words that first night. He was a poor rancher, and she lived in an ivory tower.
If he only knew how much she longed to stay with him and the boys. To live this simple life and never, ever look back to England and her past. To never have to lay eyes on her father again. To be with the man she’d loved since she was little more than a child.
But to turn him away was an impossibility. Even if all she could have was the memory of one night with him, she wouldn’t, couldn’t pass it up. Because there might never be another man who could come close to equaling what she felt, what he could make her feel, when he touched her. And no other man would ever look at her body now and still want her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Make love to me, Travis.”
Chapter Seven
The tight band squeezing Travis’ heart eased at Neela’s whispered consent. He’d been so sure she would pull away from him, tell him to leave her room. That was why he’d come in here instead of taking her to his own. He had to give her the choice. If she’d wanted him to leave, even though it might have killed him to do so, he would have respected her wishes.
As it was, she looked at him with such trust in her eyes it made him feel weak. Yet powerful.
Slowly, giving her time to adjust to him, he spread her blouse and lowered it down her arms. It pained him to see the scars, to know how much agony she must have lived through. He’d seen enough accidents, and their results, from forty years on the ranch. No other wound looked like a burn or healed quite the same way.
He stopped to unbutton her cuffs, then slipped the shirt off and tossed it over the chair under the window. Reaching around her, he unhooked her bra. Funny, but he’d always imagined her in colored silk and lace, not plain white cotton. He pulled it off and chucked it over the blouse.
She stood utterly still, staring at him as if waiting for his retreat. Her brow puckered in a slight frown. Her hands fisted at her sides. Did she think so little of him? That he would run away because she wasn’t...
His throat tightened around a lump of emotion. She wasn’t perfect any longer. At least that was how she would view herself. The scantily clad bikini model had been ruined. Her body, her career, her lifestyle.
God, but he wanted to know what had happened. How long ago had it happened? What had she been doing since then? But it did answer one question he’d had for years. Why she’d suddenly disappeared from the limelight of the tabloids and fashion magazines.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice a small whisper.
He shook his head. “Hush, princess.” He touched her left shoulder, felt the strange puckered roughness of her scarred flesh. “Does it hurt at all?”
She shook her head. “Dead nerve endings mostly. I don’t feel much. A little pressure.”
Her breasts were round and perfect, tipped by large, dark areolas and fat little nipples, soft now. He grazed the back of his fingers over the top swell of each one, then dipped lower, just barely touching the tip. Gooseflesh popped out on her skin, and her nipples pulled tight as he watched.
“So sensitive.” He skimmed his knuckles over her again, and she swayed slightly. Her breath hitched, and she shivered.
His own body sprang back to life in a blinding flash, and he bit back a moan. Slowly, he instructed himself. No way could he rush this now. His princess needed special care.
He kissed her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, flicked his tongue across one nipple then the other. She whimpered but didn’t move. Seemed reluctant to touch him again.
He ran his hand down the center of her flat belly, feeling her tremble beneath his light touch. With his mouth, he traced the path his fingers had just taken, going down on his knees in front of her.
“Travis?” His name was a question, so he looked up at her. “What are you doing?”
He grinned at her rushed, whispered words. Instead of answering, he kissed her belly button. Dipped his tongue into the slight shadow of her navel. The breath whooshed out of her, and she finally touched him, holding his face between her soft, cool palms.
The button of her jeans opened easily, and the zipper rasped loud in the silent room. Here he found his lace. He couldn’t tell the color in the darkness, but they weren’t white. His heartbeat sped as he carefully slipped her jeans down her long, sleek thighs. The bikini panties were sheer. He pressed his lips against her silk-covered mound, breathed in her musky, jasmine-tinged scent, and groaned in appreciation.
A small sound, almost like a sob, cam
e from Neela. Her hips moved forward just a fraction, pressing her intimately against his mouth. Her fingers moved to his head, roamed through his hair. He opened his lips and licked her arousal-dampened panties, tasting her for the first time.
She cried out and gripped his hair. When he ran his hands up the back of her thighs, he could feel her entire body trembling. His own was none too steady.
Using her hips, he turned her slightly and nudged her back a step to the edge of the bed. Her knees collapsed, and she sat down hard. Travis chuckled and kissed her right breast. “You okay?”
She nodded. A small, almost sad smile tipped her lips as she ran her hand over his head, straightening the hair she’d so recently mussed.
Had he ever felt so tender toward a woman? As if he didn’t know if he should make love to her or wrap her up in silk and tuck her away to keep her safe from...from everything. From men like him.
He’d been such a bastard to her, seeing only what he’d assumed her to be. Blind to the truth that was right there in front of him all the time.
She’d labored so hard since arriving on the ranch. Had never complained once about the work, or the children, or even about his surly attitude.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Her brow pulled into a frown. Her shoulders slumped. She dropped her hands to the mattress at her sides. “It’s okay. I understand.”
She thought he was going to leave her. God, no. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
He kissed her again, slowly, patiently, until she responded. Then he took it deeper, letting her learn his taste, his textures. When she moaned, he leaned away. “I’m not going anywhere, princess.” He kissed the tip of her nose, her chin, her shoulder. “I’m sorry I acted like a total bastard before. That I hurt your feelings. That I shouted at you.”
When her grip tightened on his shoulders and she pushed him away, he looked at her. Saw her narrowed eyes and tightly pressed lips. “What?”
“Are you apologizing because you feel sorry for me?”
His heart felt battered. Yeah, he felt sorry for her, for all she’d obviously gone through. But he shook his head. It wasn’t pity making his cock throb and his mind turn to oatmeal. It was because he realized what kind of person she really was, and that all his assumptions of her were completely wrong.
“I’m apologizing because I was a jackass and didn’t bother to see the real you.” She didn’t look convinced, but he’d never been good with words. He touched her left breast. “In here. The person you really are, not the person I thought you were.”
“What changed your opinion?” Her voice was soft, yet he could hear the pain behind it.
He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her sweet hair, then kissed her ear. “I didn’t want to see.” His body tensed in response to her arms encircling his shoulders, her breasts pressing against his chest. “Ah, baby. I wanted to hate you, to despise you. For years I watched you in the tabloids and couldn’t believe my sweet little princess had turned into...”
She laughed. “A slut?” She shoved at his shoulder, and he leaned back, his arms still around her. “Travis. Ninety-nine point nine percent of everything in those rag sheets is made up. Don’t you know that?” Her smile was dazzling, her eyes alight with humor. “You thought I’d shagged all those men?”
“That didn’t put me off. It was that you so blatantly flaunted it.” He took a slow, visual trip down her body. “Flaunted everything.”
She slugged his shoulder, but there was no heat in it. “I was a model, you oaf. We tend to flaunt once in a while. And, no matter where I went, there was someone with a camera, ready to take a picture at the most inopportune moments. And then you know what they’d do? They’d put my body on some made-up background. Do you know how many places it says I was caught making out with one man or another? How many scandals I supposedly caused?”
He grinned. “Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “You haven’t let me so much as peak at your cleavage since you arrived. And watching you with the boys, seeing how good you are with them... Damn it, you weren’t acting like a floozy.”
“So,” she said, going serious again. “I’m okay to sleep with now that you don’t think I’m a floozy? Because I’m an okay babysitter? And what if I had had sex with half the male population and broken up a few marriages and—”
He kissed her to shut her up. He would only talk himself into a hole if he tried defending himself. He wasn’t good with words. Frankly, he didn’t give a shit if she’d slept with half the male population. Right now she was in his arms, and that’s the only thing that mattered.
She shoved at his shoulders for a minute, putting up a weak protest against his kisses, but then she melted, softened against him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and returned the kiss with scorching intensity.
He kissed her jaw, her throat, and moved down to her breasts. “I’ve been going crazy since the first day you arrived.” He suckled first one nipple then the other. Her hands were back in his hair, and he reveled in her touch. “I go to bed every night thinking about you.” He dipped lower, to her cute little belly button. “And wake up every morning hard enough to hammer nails through concrete, reaching for you, needing you.” He tugged her shoes off her feet, tossed her jeans away and spread her thighs.
A husky groan tore from her when he nuzzled her mound, scraped his teeth along her labia through her musky, damp panties. He gave a slight nudge to her middle, and she flopped back on the bed.
“Why now?” she said on a breathy pant as she raised her hips so he could slip the panties down her thighs.
“Because I can’t deny my hunger any longer. God, princess,” he said reverently as he teased her downy, pitch-black pubic curls with his fingertips. “You are so gorgeous.”
Laid out before him like a feast, her flat belly, her plump breasts, her soft curls and silky heat...he wanted all of her. Wondered if he’d ever be able to get enough.
She made a soft pleading sound and raised her head to look at him. He grinned.
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” Her own lips curled into a smile.
“I’m teasing us both, darlin’. But don’t you worry one bit. We’ll both get there.”
He wrapped his hands around her ankles and brought them up, over his shoulders. His knees were already beginning to stiffen from his position on the floor, but he didn’t care. If he were a cripple the rest of his life, it wouldn’t matter. All that mattered was tonight, this instant, with Neela.
He nuzzled against her. Her soft curls tickled his lips. Her scent was heaven. He gently spread her with his fingers, then leaned in and took the first real taste of her hot, slick pussy with a long, slow stroke.
Neela screamed and almost bucked herself right off the bed.
Chapter Eight
The orgasm hit with the force of lightening. Neela gripped the bedspread in tight fists and arched under the assault. His tongue played her like a fine-tuned instrument, never letting up as he toyed with her clit and kept the fire burning through her.
His hands reached around her hips and splayed across her abdomen, pinning her to the bed with a gentle strength that made her yearn for more.
She tried sucking in air, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t move. Could only feel. His evening whiskers teased her labia with each firm stroke of his tongue. His teeth nibbled ever so tenderly, nipping her swollen, sensitized flesh.
She wiggled, but he held her firmly in place. She wanted more. More! She never wanted the pleasure, the intensity, to end. “Please!” she begged as another wave built so closely behind the last. “Travis! Oh! Oh!” He tweaked her left nipple, and the storm raged through her again. He suckled her clit between his lips, abrading it with his teeth.
Tears ran unchecked as she squeezed her eyes shut and her entire body tightened. Pulsed. Throbbed.
His tongue probed deep into her channel, his whiskers scraping her tender flesh. She arched into his mouth and cried as the third orgasm hit her and swept her away t
o a place where only pleasure existed. A place where Travis would always be hers.
Shocked at Neela’s explosive response, Travis stayed where he was for a few long moments, regrouping. His cheek against her thigh, he could feel her tremble. Could feel each little spasmodic aftershock of her climaxes. His breathing rasped almost as harsh as hers, and his cock ached with the need for release. In fact, his whole body shook with the power of his lust for her.
Damn. He’d never had a woman go off like a rocket before. With just one touch. She was...amazing. The sounds she made—panty, breathy little moans—just about had him coming in his jeans. Something he hadn’t done since he was a young buck making out with his first girlfriend in junior high.
Using the bed as a lever, he pushed to his feet. His knees groaned in protest, and his legs felt like Jell-O. He couldn’t help but grin when he saw her sprawled naked on the bed, legs hanging off the edge, completely sated. Her eyes were closed, but her deep breaths let him know she hadn’t fallen asleep.
“Hey.” He tugged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor.
Neela’s eyelids fluttered and opened. “Hey.” And then she grinned. Not one of those smiles she put on when she thought she should, but an honest-to-God grin that made her eyes sparkle in the darkened room. “Wow.”
He chuckled as he shucked his boots. His socks and jeans landed on the floor, and then he debated for a second before pushing his boxers down, too. Any woman who responded the way she did shouldn’t be shocked. They’d gone way beyond shyness.
“Wow, huh?” He lifted her easily and turned her the right way on the bed, her hair fanning out over the pillow. Her body was relaxed and soft. So damn womanly. “God, princess,” he said, leaning over her. “You’re gorgeous.”
The smile on her lips grew. She reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself, cowboy.”
He laughed and came down over her, settling himself into her curves even as he held himself up on his elbows to keep from squashing her. “Hearing you say ‘cowboy’ in that sexy little accent of yours is a major turn-on.”
Anna Leigh Keaton - Risking It All Page 4