Deanna Tompkins

by Blue Mountain Passion

  His lips explored her gently, his tongue darting out to capture the droplets of wine. A hot ache grew deep within Meagan and she offered no protest as he slipped her garments from her shoulders, baring her to the waist. His tongue teased her nipples, the rosy buds swelling instantly under his touch.

  He tasted first one nipple, then the other. "I've thought of nothing else today, but being here, with you, like this."

  She allowed him to explore freely, urging him even closer. Her body remembered the pleasure of his lovemaking. Her impatient hands tore at his clothes as his expert touch brought her to the brink of release. She lay naked beneath him, parted and ready.

  Cole's eyes stared deeply into hers as she welcomed him into her body. He watched the play of expressions on her face as he possessed her, nearly losing control when her eyes filled with a desire as intense as his own. He slowed his movements, bringing Meagan along slowly, wanting the moment to last. Her cry of release brought him over the edge, and their bodies moved in exquisite harmony as their world shattered into a million glowing stars.

  Contentment flowed through Meagan as she lay, sated, in Cole's arms. There was no need for words, for their bodies had spoken for them. Curling against him, she placed her head on his shoulder and was nearly asleep when his whispered words echoed blankly through her sleep filled mind.

  "You were so beautiful, the first time I saw you here."

  She cuddled tighter against him. "What?"

  "I was just remembering when I saw you here. It's why I brought you back."

  "Cole, you're not making any sense. We've never been here together, before."

  "We have. You just weren't aware of it."

  He had her full attention now. She sat up, unaware of her nudity, or Cole's response to her innocently seductive moves as her naked body flexed and turned before him.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "It was the first morning you felt well enough to leave the house. You came here to bathe. Remember?"

  "Of course I remember," Meagan confirmed, "but how did you know about it?"

  "I was here."

  His words sank in, and Meagan felt the humiliation of his statement wash over her. He'd watched her bathe, seen her naked, all those weeks ago. "How dare you spy on me," she scolded.

  Shadows of light danced provocatively across Meagan's body as the oil lamp blew in the breeze. Cole made no effort to disguise his mounting desire. "You're so beautiful, Meagan."

  Fury danced in her eyes as she tossed her head in defiance, her hair catching the light. She squared her shoulders, taunting him with her naked form.

  "You like this?" She allowed her hands to stray from her hips to her stomach, rising slowly to her breasts, her fingertips brushing against her nipples. "You think you have the right to my body anytime you want?” She glared at him with burning, reproachful eyes. "I say when, and if,” she emphasized, “I share my body. You had no right to watch me without my knowledge."

  Cole struggled to control the fierce desire that inflamed him as he watched her touch herself. "Meagan..."

  "I don't want to hear it," she asserted. "Stay away from me." With that she stood and strode away, her body stiff and unforgiving.

  Cole watched the gentle sway of her hips, mesmerized by the beauty of her body in motion. "Meagan," he repeated.

  She pivoted toward him, her green eyes clawing him like talons. "What?"

  Cole held up her dress. "You don't have any clothes on."

  She stopped dead in her tracks and glanced down. She returned and stood above him, her hand outstretched. "Give me my clothes."

  Cole shook his head.

  "Give me my clothes," she repeated, suddenly self conscious and feeling very vulnerable.

  Cole relented and handed her chemise to her. She grabbed it and tugged it over her head.

  "Come sit by me, Meagan."

  "I want my dress."

  Cole stood, and in a lightning fast motion had Meagan in his arms. He sat down heavily, holding her tight in his lap. "Listen to me first then I'll give you your dress."

  She struggled futilely, then relented and relaxed against him.

  "I didn't mean to spy on you,” he explained. “This is where I bathe, and I was ready to do just that when I saw you."

  "So you,"

  Cole silenced her with a sharp shake of his head. "So," he stated with emphasis, "you were so beautiful that I couldn't turn away from the sight of you." Cole relaxed his grip on her, relieved when she made no effort to escape.

  "I've pictured you the way you were that day, every night since I saw you. You've haunted my dreams, Meagan." Cole could feel the tension leave her body. "You were like an Angel, only better because I knew you were real. I knew if I approached you, if I held you, I'd have heaven in my arms." He wrapped his arms possessively around her. "I almost did, too.

  Wide, curious eyes met his.

  "I was on my way to you," Cole explained. "If I hadn't stepped on that darn stick and startled you..."

  Understanding crept into Meagan's expression. "I remember that. You could have seriously injured me," she reprimanded with a touch of humor.

  Cole kissed her upturned nose. "I couldn't worry about that just then. I was too busy running away."

  Meagan's soft laughter filled the air, and she shook her head, "I'm sorry I overreacted. I was humiliated, to think of you seeing me ... that way, so long ago. Before we, before..."

  Cole tightened his grip even more. "You're perfect, Meagan. There's nothing on this earth my eyes would rather feast upon than you."

  Meagan snuggled closer.

  "Now," Cole teased as he turned Meagan until she faced him, "do you still want your dress.”

  Meagan shook her head.

  “Then,” Cole raised a brow her way, “could I see you flip your hair and touch yourself again. I found that quite enjoyable."

  Her protest was stifled by his mouth, and their laughter turned to moans as they spent the night in each other’s arms.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Cole had a thousand head of cattle, ten cowboys, and a cook with a loaded chuck wagon waiting on him when Meagan approached.

  "I'm ready," she stated, barely able to contain her excitement.

  Cole's eyes raked over her, his amazement clearly evident. "What in tarnation are you wearing?"

  A huge grin split her face as she turned first one way, then the other, showing off her new purchase. "Do you like it?"

  "Hardly," Cole frowned, a deep line forming between his brows as he glared at her. "Go change."

  "I will not," Meagan stated firmly before picking up her forty pound saddle and lifting it easily onto Angel's back."

  "You will, or you won't go."

  She cinched up the saddle, not bothering to face him. "Is that a threat?"

  "It's a promise."

  She spun on her heels, her eyes narrow slits of fire as she accused, "you promised I could go."

  "A promise I should never have made."

  "A promise is a promise," she stated firmly. Her chin lifted with determination as she stood her ground, hands on hips. Her long braid dangled over her shoulder, across her breast, to tease her belly with its tip.

  His hungry gaze brushed over her, and Cole wondered what kind of spell Meagan had placed on him to make him melt each time he looked at her.

  She was wearing a pair of Levi's that fit her like a second skin. A striped, ivory and forest green collarless cotton shirt was tucked tightly into the waistline, emphasizing the shape and size of her breasts. She wore a broad brimmed black Stetson, and worst of all, she wore a pair of black leather chaps. Her behind peeked tantalizing through the seatless pants, emphasizing her curves in a suggestive manner that a dress could never accomplish.

  Cole began to pace back and forth as he considered his men's reactions to Meagan, dressed as she was. He would be busy enough with the cattle without having to worry about ten pairs of eyes staring at her wherever she went.

  "You lo
ok like a man, Meagan," he lied.

  "Good." She turned on her heels and stomped back toward Angel.

  Her determined strut sidetracked him for only a moment before annoyance replaced his lust. "Meagan, come back here." The little snit completely ignored him and mounted Angel as though he hadn't even spoken.

  "Hey, Cole, what's the hold up?" Stephen removed his hat, brushing the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "The men are getting antsy."

  Cole's gaze was fixed on Meagan, who was riding towards the other men. "Meagan's not coming."

  Stephen's eyes followed his. "Why not?"

  Cole rolled his eyes at his daft brother as he motioned with a wild fling of his arm. "Look at her."

  Stephen did. "So?"

  "Hell, Stephen, she's dressed like a man."

  Stephen shook his head. "She's dressed like a drover. Which" he pointed out needlessly, "is exactly what she's going to be on this trip."

  "Just because she's driving cattle doesn't mean she needs to dress so, so..." Cole stuttered as he tried to determine how to describe Meagan's attire.

  "What happens when we get into thick brush?"

  Cole turned puzzled eyes on his brother. "What?"

  "Meagan needs to dress that way to protect herself against the elements. You know that, I know that, those men out there know that." Stephen shrugged. "What's the problem here?"

  Cole threw his hat on the ground. "I can't stand the thought of her walking around like that." He ran his hand through his hair. "She'll be the victim of lewd jokes and wisecracks."

  Stephen shook his head and grinned. "You really like her, don't you?"

  "What's that got to do with anything?" Cole defended hotly.

  "I think," Stephen raised his eyebrows high, "that all the men will consider Meagan dressed appropriately for a drive. You're the only one who'll be staring lewdly at her."

  Cole grunted and mounted his horse. Meagan's triumphant gaze taunted him as he passed her.

  "Let's go," he ordered. Adrenaline shot through him as the drive began. Two hours later, Cole realized Stephen's assessment was dead on. Like an idiot, he'd assigned Meagan to ride point, allowing him to ride between her and the flank rider so he could keep a watchful eye on her.

  He'd been tormented by the sight of her gently swaying body moving in perfect rhythm with her horse, back and forth, up and down. It was too much. He urged his horse forward and shot her a resentful glare as he passed her. "You ride behind for a while."

  With an affirmative nod, Meagan slowed, allowing him to take the lead.

  Cole breathed a sigh of relief, and a mouthful of dust. Coughing, he tied a bandanna over his mouth. Though staring at the back end of cattle was much safer than staring at Meagan's backside, it wasn't nearly as pleasant.

  Meagan puzzled over Cole's distant attitude. She knew he hadn't been pleased with her choice of attire, though she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. But, to treat her as if she was nothing more than another hired hand didn’t sit well with her.

  Deciding he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Meagan forced away her gloomy thoughts and allowed her eyes to travel slowly across his lean, hard body. He sat tall and straight in his saddle, moving in rhythm with his horse. She recalled his rhythmic motions all too well, and she occupied herself the remainder of the day with improper thoughts. By the time dusk approached she was squirming in her saddle.

  It was late when they made camp. Cookie, the affectionate name they'd given to their trail cook, had ridden ahead to prepare dinner, and the tantalizing aroma drifted temptingly through the air as she approached camp. A large Dutch oven sat by the open fire, and the smell of sourdough bread wafted through the air. Coffee was stewing, and Cookie was stirring a large pot of chili filled with peppers, beans and beef.

  Meagan fetched her eatin' irons and accepted a serving of the chili before grabbing a biscuit and spreading a generous portion of molasses on it. She made her way wearily to a large log, enjoying a moment of solitude.

  Cole eyed her as he ate. Each time their eyes met she looked away. He was becoming more vexed by the moment. She stood, and he hoped she'd come sit near him, but she only placed her dirty dishes in the 'wreck pan' along with the others, and returned to her log.

  "Hey, boys, let's get a game of poker going."

  Cole frowned. Gambling wasn't allowed at the ranch, but on the trail, it was common practice. He stood, chancing a sideways glance at Meagan, who was staring at her boots. "Count me out."

  "No way, boss." Pete stood. "We want to win some of that McAllister money."

  Knowing it wouldn't be good business to turn the boys down on their first night out, Cole nodded reluctantly, joining the other men. "Cookie," Cole ordered, "set us up for a game."

  With a wide, toothless grin Cookie pulled out the chuck box at the back of the wagon and set small stools around it. Soon, all hands were surrounding the players, rooting them on.

  Cole knew the instant Meagan approached. She stood behind him, her heat emanating from her body to his. He had a pile of winnings in front of him, and three pouting cowboy's around him. He picked up his cards, ignoring her gasp of surprise. He had a combination of aces and eights, sure to win. With a quick sweep of his hand, he placed his entire winnings in the center of the table.

  "Cole."

  "No talking, Meagan," Cole scolded, surprised she wasn't aware of the etiquette of poker.

  Sweat poured freely from Pete's brow as he studied his cards, his face lined with concentration. He convinced several of his fellow bunk mates to chip in and match Cole's bet. He placed his cards, face up, on the table.

  Cole's mouth dropped open as he stared at four nines. He threw his cards on the table. "You win," he declared, wondering at Pete's luck.

  Laughter filled the air. Cole stiffened. He didn't find it a bit funny to lose so much money in a single hand.

  "You held a dead man’s hand," Meagan informed him with a placating pat on his shoulder.

  "A what?"

  Meagan grinned as she moved slightly to the side. "A dead man’s hand," she confirmed with a small nod. "I tried to tell you."

  "What, exactly, is a dead man’s hand?" Cole didn't appreciate being laughed at.

  "Wild Bill Hickock was holding that exact hand when he was killed by Jack McCall during a poker game at Deadwood, South Dakota in 1878." She turned inquisitive eyes his way. "Didn't you hear about that?"

  "Of course I heard about that." Becoming more agitated by the minute, he stood, knocking his stool over in the process. "What of it?"

  "Well," Meagan explained slowly, as if talking to a young child, "that hand's considered bad luck. No one ever bets on it."

  "That's utter nonsense."

  She arched a fine brow his way. "Is it?"

  His eyes darted from her, to each of his men. A sheepish grin spread across his face. "I think," he grinned wider, "that I'd better listen to the lady in the future."

  "You got that right."

  "Little lady knows her poker."

  "Takes after Tom, she does."

  Cole held up his hands to stop the barrage of support for Meagan. "I think I've lost enough for one night. I'm tuckered out, and ready for some shut-eye." He stretched long and hard to make his point. "The rest of you better turn in, too. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

  Each man stood, some grumbling while others held silent, but all obeyed.

  Cole walked away, hoping Meagan would follow.

  Watching his retreating back, Meagan itched to go after him. She'd been avoiding him in hopes of calming her desires, but they raged within her even after he'd disappeared from sight. Attempting discretion, she waited nearly fifteen minutes, until most of the men had bedded down, before she, too, claimed exhaustion. She headed the opposite direction from the path Cole had taken.

  Circling around, she managed to find Cole, but stopped dead in her tracks several feet from him. What if he didn't want her to join him. He'd been upset
with her all day. Meagan turned away.

  Cole had been watching her from the corner of his eye. Hell, she'd taken her time. He thought he might have to go out there and fetch her. Finally she'd shown up then she turned around and left!

  He squinted through the darkness, struggling to see where she was going. It was pitch black. He couldn't see a thing. Waiting several minutes, in case she was relieving herself, Cole became impatient when she didn't reappear, and called out quietly, "Meagan."

  No response followed. Where could she have gone? Trying again, he decided to hell with it. He was going to find her. Sitting up, he was about to put his pants on when he saw something move from the corner of his eye. "Meagan, is that you?"

  She watched him. She wanted to go to him, but her legs wouldn't move. He stood up, and she stood still. He approached her. Not a muscle twitched in her body. Cole's tense frame was ready to attack at the first provocation as he moved steadily nearer.

  He relaxed, smiling with relief when he saw it was her. "There you are. Why didn't you answer me?" When she didn't respond, Cole became concerned, "What is it Meagan. What's happened?"

  Meagan said nothing as she walked into his arms. Holding her tightly against him, Cole felt her tremble. "Meagan, what's wrong?" His voice was harsh with worry.

  "I thought you might not want me. I was afraid you would turn me away."

  Not want her? How could she ever think that? He'd wanted her from the first time he'd set eyes on her. "I want you, Meagan. I want you always." He took two steps backwards, offering her his hand. He wanted her to make the choice. "Come, share the night with me."

  Meagan slipped her hand into his and followed him without protest as he picked up his bedroll and headed down the trail. He stopped, spreading it out, pulling an edge down. Meagan bent to slip inside.

  "Wait."

  She stood, waiting.

  "I want to take your clothes off first."

  Meagan wanted nothing more than to lay naked with the man she loved. She walked to him. He began the tedious process of removing her garments. Each place his skin touched hers, it burned.

  He struggled to remove the chaps and jeans, which firmly caught on her hips. Meagan grinned, thankful for the disguise of darkness. It wouldn't do to allow him to see her amusement at his clumsiness.