by Jillian Hart
“I’m sorry. That had to be hard, especially after losing your parents.” He leaned closer, rested his elbows on his knees. He felt closer than ever, so incredibly delicious and caring, he was irresistible. His gaze traveled down her face and settled on her lips. “I’m glad you have good memories of them.”
“The best.” Sadness mixed in with her smile. Callie pushed herself off her knees, turning away. If she didn’t put distance between them right now, she was afraid she might let him give her a kiss of comfort. Only trouble could come from that. She stooped to sort through the stick pile she’d made.
“You were busy while I was away.” He came up behind her, his boots light in the grass, his presence like a giant oven emitting scorching heat. “You gathered wood, made a fire, unsaddled Indigo.”
“I figured he might feel more relaxed without all that gear on him.” Her hand trembled as she moved the broken sticks and twigs aside until she found the sturdiest, tallest ones. “After I figured out the cinch, it was a cinch to take the saddle off.”
“Funny.” He gave a soft bark of laughter, moved in, his arm brushing her shoulder, his hand closing over hers, taking the sticks from her. “Indigo hasn’t wandered too far from you, I see.”
“We’re friends now,” she explained with a toss of blond hair over one slender shoulder. “He’s a big sweetheart.”
The big sweetheart looked up from cropping grass, a yellow dandelion bloom poking out from between his whiskery lips. He gave a low nicker of agreement before lowering his head again, snipping away at the tender blades with his sharp teeth.
“Honey, you don’t call a tough gelding a sweetheart. It’s bad for his image.” Amused, Mason considered the sticks she’d chosen, and she’d chosen well. He tried to make his feet move, he really did, but they didn’t. They stayed stuck on the earth, refusing to move, keeping him right there next to her. His gaze slid to her lips, soft and lush, and he nearly groaned, driven by the overwhelming need to claim them once more.
Iron will, he reminded himself. He had to be resolute, determined to protect her even from himself. He turned on his heels, branches clutched tightly in his hands and heaved his feet forward and away from her, fighting everything within him that wanted to stay close to her—or get closer.
“What about you?” she called out, her steps padding behind him, her nearness like a mace swinging at his steeled defenses, threatening to take them down. “What about your parents?”
“They live over in Miles City,” Mason ground out. She had no notion what she was doing to him. He knelt down at the fire’s edge and drove one stick into the ground outside the reach of the flames.
Don’t look at her, he thought, maybe that would help. But she kept coming, settled down beside him and laid an armful of branches next to him. He couldn’t ignore her. The rustle of her petticoats, the light rhythm of her breathing, the brush of her skin to his as she took the other stick he held.
“Do you get to see your folks often?” Her lustrous blue gaze searched his face innocently, then settled on his mouth. Her pupils dilated, undoing him. Did she want his kiss?
Before he did something he’d regret, he launched onto his feet and strode away from her. He was on the other side of the fire pit before he realized she’d circled around the other way, meeting him in the middle, the stick he needed clutched in one hand, so small and soft. When he reached for it, the look of her pale hand against his sun-browned skin sent a shiver rocking through him. Imagining her hand on his naked chest, sliding lower—
He clamped his molars together, jabbed the stick deep into the ground and reached for the long wood skewer that held the rabbit meat.
“Yes,” he finally answered, his voice cracking with strain as he eased the skewer into place so the meat hung suspended over the crackling flames. “When I get the chance, now and then I head up their way.”
“Now and then?” She tilted her head to one side, studying him, curious. She studied his lips again, as if waiting for his next words...or his next kiss.
“I don’t travel much. I work long hours,” he explained. The words felt squeezed out of him. He rubbed his hands on his thighs, wiping the bits of bark and dirt off his palms, not that there was any, but it kept him from reaching out for her, dragging her into his arms and kissing her until they were both senseless. That would not be a good option, so he took a step back.
She followed, keeping close to him, unaware how tantalizing she was in the sun. The light glinted golden in her hair, kissing her soft ivory skin, shining like a beacon on her Cupid’s bow mouth.
“You’re not one of those men whose entire life is their work, are you?” She pressed her lips together, aware he was staring at her mouth. Her eyes dilated a little more, growing darker.
His body responded like a punch, his groin quickening, his blood heating. Iron will, he reminded himself. Do not kiss her.
“Uh, guilty,” he answered her question, struggling to take another step back, but he really didn’t want to. A painful pressure built in his chest, expanding out, a need that surged through his body, beating like a drum in his blood. His hands shook from trying not to grab her. “I work all the time. It’s how come I’m in charge of an office full of men. I’m dedicated. It’s my purpose.”
“I can see that.” She slipped in, as stealthy as an evening breeze, to press the palms of her hands against his chest—blissfully unaware of his prior inappropriate mental image of her doing the same and more with him naked. He tensed every muscle in his body, fighting the rising need that gathered within him. That powerful need built, growing stronger, able to tear his iron will apart.
“Am I just a job for you?” she asked, her voice thin and raw with feeling, her gaze pinched. She stared up at him, vulnerable, heart exposed, awaiting his answer. The feelings and affection he read in her eyes shattered him.
“No,” he rasped out. “I didn’t chase after you because of my badge. That had nothing to do with it.”
His steel will and iron defenses collapsed, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. All control lost, he hauled her against him, claimed her lips with his and kissed her with everything he had.
Chapter Ten
Callie thought she knew what she was asking for when she wanted another kiss from him.
She was wrong. This kiss was nothing like the last one. It was need and hunger, possession and inferno. His mouth stayed hot and hard on hers, demanded entrance and deepened, sweeping tantalizing flickers of sensation everywhere—her lips, her tongue, the roof of her mouth. His hands gripped her, strong fingers curling into the flesh of her arms, holding her captive against the unyielding wall of his chest, making her feel his hardness everywhere. Everywhere.
A flicker of alarm skidded through her, but it was a small flicker, more of surprise than anything. She trusted Mason with her life. When he came up for breath, leaving them both panting, his eyes searched hers, gauging her reaction. His whiskered jaw was clenched, his chest rising and falling. Tendons corded in his neck, as if it took all his strength to stop. Her pulse thudded low and deep in her abdomen and she wanted to melt against him, to never stop, never let go. She didn’t know how to tell him, so she reached up to cup his rough, stubbly jaw in both hands and went on tiptoe to kiss him again.
With a groan, his arms folded around her, his mouth descended on hers—hot, so hot. He took them both down to the ground, into the soft grass where wildflowers bobbed and a distant bee buzzed and his weight pinned her to the earth, every amazing inch of him. She felt his desire thick against her belly, felt what he yearned for in his kiss that grew rough, demanding and at the same time so tender, she couldn’t bear the thought of it ending.
She held on tight, savoring the moment. Nibbled his lips when he nibbled hers, moaned when his hands trailed down her arms and up again, sending pleasure zinging through her system. Those hands moved to her waist, his palms cupping her hips, and he extricated his mouth from hers.
Silent, he gazed down at her, his black hair
wind-strewn, his hat gone, and deftly untied her sunbonnet strings, tossing it aside. The palm of his hand stroked the line of her cheek and jaw, and she quivered head to toe, the tremor rippling through her. Could he feel it? She ached for him in secret places, true, but what ached more was the sweetness filling her heart. Seeing how he cared, that’s what made the backs of her eyes burn and her throat tighten. He did care for her. A lot.
That’s all she needed to know. She covered his hand with hers, pulled it from her face, that sweet tender touch, and laid it at her throat, over the first button of her collar.
Please, she said with a look, because she was afraid to say the words aloud. Afraid of his rejection, for this man didn’t let himself be close to anyone. Maybe not even her. She held her breath, waited for his reaction.
He stayed frozen for a few seconds, breathing heavily, and then his answer traveled across his face. The curve of his mouth hitched upward before his mouth descended on her throat, under her chin, kissing the sensitive skin there. His hands tugged at her buttons, one, two, three, exposing her corset. Warm evening air sailed across the bare skin of her chest. With a few more sturdy tugs, buttons four, five and six gave way, and her dress fell open to the waist. Taking advantage of that, his fingers nimbly brushed the fabric off her shoulders, working the sleeves down her arms as the heat of his mouth lingered on the line of her throat before heading downward in hot, little butterfly kisses. He caught the lace trim of her corset in his teeth, groaned, and buried his face between her breasts, holding her hard, clutching her to him in fierce need.
He’d been lonely for so long, she thought sympathetically, he’d gone without anyone to love him. It had taken its toll. Tenderly, she raked her hands through his thick black hair, ran her hands down his back. She’d never felt anything as strong, warm male skin over tempered steel. Muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as he lifted up, snaking his hand beneath her to untie the stays at her back. She eased up, pressing against him to give him better access, dizzy and light-headed. She buried her face in the curve of his hot shoulder, breathing in the salty scent of his skin as her laces loosened. Finally he laid her back onto the soft grass, gazing down at her as if she were the most cherished thing in the world.
This man had a heart, that was for sure. She relaxed, feeling safe with him, trusting him in a way she’d never trusted a man before. This was so new to her, the desire coursing like whiskey through her blood, intoxicating and heady. Made stronger by seeing that same desire reflected in his eyes, feeling it in his touch. With a tug, her corset came undone, the laces trailing in the grass as he brushed it aside, baring her to him and the sky above. She quaked, not used to being so exposed, feeling her nipples pebble beneath his stare. The blades of grass felt slightly scratchy against her skin, the sun and breeze a gossamer caress as she lay back.
“You’re beautiful.” His voice came gruff, broken.
Her breasts felt swollen and achy until he touched them—what bliss, she’d never known anything like it. The rough texture of his hands, the rasp of calluses, the skim of his fingertips across her pebbled nipples, then around, then covering. With the first squeeze of his hand, the pulse beating low in her midsection tightened, arced straight down and right through her. Intense. Unexpected. She cried out in surprise.
With a smile, he lowered his mouth, captured one sensitive nipple with his tongue and drew her in. Wow. Sensation ripped through her in brazen, fiery arcs, each one stronger than the last, tightening muscles deep inside. She clutched him to her, hardly aware that he was slipping her dress down her legs. When he planted one knee between hers, she arched up, straining, needing, aware of his now larger, harder arousal straining against her bare stomach. Only his clothes and her drawers separated them. She closed her eyes, drank in the thrilling sensation of his mouth on her breast, the kiss, the tug and pull. Sparkling pleasure that beat and kept beating, growing inside her, deeper and deeper.
Yes, she thought, running her hands over his shoulders. I want this.
As if he could hear her, Mason rose up, kneeling between her legs, watching her with smoky eyes as he yanked off his shirt. Oh, she remembered his chest, golden brown skin and delineated muscle dusted with a swirl of dark hair, which arrowed down beneath his waistband. The thrum inside her twisted agonizingly tight at the sight of his arousal drawing the denim fabric taut. Then his hands were on her again, his mouth laving kisses down the sensitive valley between her breasts, his hands roving over her stomach. Each sensation better than the next until finally his hands skimmed over the fabric of her drawers and settled right over her—Oh my!
Keen sensation twisted thrillingly and her body arched into his touch. With a tug he untied her drawers, drawing them over her hips, down her legs, exposing her fully to him. Really, she should feel embarrassed, but he was doing clever things with his fingers, light strokes, rhythmic taps right over that bright center of pleasure. She forgot all about being embarrassed as bright white sparks of sensation shot through her, her head rolled back, her hips rocked up, and it was too much to endure, she couldn’t take anymore, and then she felt the brush of his mouth, the tap of his tongue. But apparently he wasn’t done yet. Gently, he separated her swollen flesh with his fingers, easing one, then two fingers inside her, shocking her with more new feelings. Her inner muscles clamped around him and pulsed, and she writhed helplessly, ready to break into a thousand pieces.
“Relax,” Mason mumbled kissing the lower curve of her belly. “Let it happen.”
And it did. She came in hot, throbbing, toe-curling waves of pleasure tearing through her at the speed of light, pleasure that overwhelmed everything, spiraling outward in a breath-stealing, agonizing glory. She cried out, clutching the hard strength of his arms, needing him to hold onto, to ground her as the last sensational pulse squeezed through her, leaving her wrenched apart and whole. She collapsed, panting.
“Here, this will be more comfortable.” Mason stretched out beside her, rolling up the shirt he’d tossed aside earlier. “Lift your head.”
She obliged, blushing, as he placed the makeshift pillow beneath her. Heat rose from his half-naked body like steam. Not knowing what to say to him after she’d—-and he’d—-more heat rushed to her face. Of course, she knew the facts of life, but this was nothing like what she’d heard in quiet whispers and gossip in the orphanage’s dormitory. What would the rest of it be like, she wondered, amazed that anything could be so wonderful.
“Is that better?” Mason asked, one hand coming to rest on her stomach. His fingers were damp from her.
That made her shiver again when she should be blushing.
“Yes, thank you,” she said. When he took care of her like this, it made her feel cozy inside, it made her care about him more. Face it, you don’t just like him, she thought. No, it was more complicated than that.
“How are you doing?” Mason searched her gaze, read her face, concern marking his brow. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m more than okay.” Her face was flushed from her orgasm, her eyes shining with happiness as she grinned up at him. “I feel perfect.”
“That’s good to hear.” He grinned, too. He ignored the raging need driving through him, urgent in his blood, and pushed a wild tangle of blond hair out of her eyes. “We haven’t done anything that you can’t walk away from. If this goes much farther, you won’t be able to say that. It’ll change your life forever.”
“You’re worried about my reputation.” She rolled onto her side, facing him, the fullness of her breasts swaying enticingly, pink-tipped and still damp from his mouth.
He groaned. She wasn’t making this easy for him. He was trying to do the right thing for her. “Of course I’m concerned. You have to know that I care about you.”
“I do.” Sheer honesty, those words, anchored in feeling.
She moved in, pressing a sweet kiss to the base of his throat, tempting him. He dipped his head to rest his chin on the top of her head, her hair catching on his whiskered chin. Aching
, just aching. Did she have any idea how much he needed her? How deeply he craved it? Nine years had been a long, lonely stretch. For nearly a decade he’d been walling himself off from everyone, focused on his purpose. But lonely was a word that didn’t begin to describe the emptiness his life had become, or his heart and right now, for this moment, he couldn’t take it any longer. Her kisses on his chest were tantalizing, both innocent and sexual at once. His groin tightened, his blood was all but boiling.
Then he felt a tug at his waistband and he jumped. She’d already loosened one button before he could react.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked, not sure if he should be stopping her or helping her.
“I have an idea,” she said coyly, and released another button.
“You are killing me, lady.” Tenderly, he ran a hand down the length of her side, skimming past her breasts, pausing at her hips.
“That’s the idea.” So sweet that smile, her mouth swollen from his kisses. Warm and sweet, she was more alluring than anything he’d ever known so he let her release the last button, held his breath when she tugged aside his drawers. His erection sprang free and she gasped. He couldn’t help smiling. Male pride shot through him because he intended to seriously pleasure her, since that’s what she clearly wanted. He watched her study his shaft, watched her pupils dilate, her breathing change, her mouth make a soft O of desire. That killed him, too.
When her fingertips touched the engorged head of him, he couldn’t take it any longer, he rolled her onto her back and planted his knees between her thighs. He shook so hard, ready to break apart, surprised his entire body hadn’t shattered from the blinding need to possess her. She was stretched out trustingly before him, stunning, waiting.
He took a moment to savor the sight of her, long lean thighs, curve of slender hips, the flat line of her stomach, the rise and fall of her full breasts. She was breathing hard, her eyes on his. He stretched out over her, sweeping his hand over one of those breasts, laving an aroused nipple on the way, before planting his elbows beside her.