by Amy Sandas
Now it was his turn to wonder what she was thinking. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but he remained silent, unwilling to break the magic of the moment.
Too soon, the music came to an end. The sweet, sad melody faded off into the night. Their movements slowed to a stop, but they didn’t step away from each other.
Dean didn’t want to let her go.
Maybe he was just caught up in the moonlight, the music, and the way the woman in his arms made him feel. The warmth of her body so close, but not touching—not in the way he wanted. Maybe it was the reflection of the stars in her eyes and the gentle glow of fire in her hair. The flush on her cheeks, her parted lips.
Maybe he was just so damn sick and tired of fighting the truth inside him. Maybe he wanted something sweet and beautiful for a change.
The desire to kiss her was overwhelming, as was the urge to draw close enough to feel her heartbeat against his chest. For a moment, he stopped fighting it. His arm tightened around her back, curling inward until she pressed against him, the soft curves of her body fitting perfectly to his tense frame. She didn’t resist, didn’t pull away. She followed his direction so easily, just as when they’d danced. Her breath was quick and shallow, but he did not think it was from exertion.
It was anticipation…and he felt it too.
When her gaze darkened and dropped to his mouth and stayed there, Dean had to fight against every urge in his body not to take her lips with his. It took everything he had. He knew he should release her and walk away.
He just couldn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Three
She wanted him to kiss her with a longing that unfolded like a flower deep in her center.
There was nothing in her entire experience that quite compared with being turned about in the arms of this cowboy beneath the glow of a midnight moon. His hand at her back, guiding with steady strength, the brush of his thighs, the draw of his gaze. The minutes they spent turning about in the front yard felt like a dream.
And when the music came to an end, he didn’t release her. Instead, he drew her closer. Closer to his heat, his sturdy strength.
But he did nothing more.
She wanted more. Her heart beat hard and swift with the yearning to take the moment further.
He wasn’t going to kiss her. She knew it by the hard line of his lips and the tension in his jaw.
He wasn’t going to kiss her, but she could kiss him.
She could be bold and fearless. She had to be. Because this longing inside her wasn’t going to just go away. Most importantly of all, she didn’t want it to.
With her hand still resting on his shoulder, she held his gaze as she rose up on her toes. Something intense flickered in his eyes, and she feared he’d pull away. He didn’t, and her belly went wild with anticipation. A moment later, she pressed her mouth to his.
Such a simple act. But the sensation caused by the feel of his lips against hers shot like lightning through her blood. White-hot, electric, and devastating. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as she waited for his reaction.
Would he shove her away? She tensed for his rejection, quite certain it would break her into pieces.
Then a sound like thunder echoed from deep inside him before he released her hand to wrap both arms around her back. He tilted his head, shifted his lips in a glide of lovely friction over hers, and deepened the kiss.
Heat—delicious, melting heat—flowed through her muscles, softening her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, nearly dislodging his hat as she tried to get closer, hold him tighter, kiss him deeper.
The feel of his tongue sweeping along the seam of her lips released a gasp of surprise as her body was flooded with new sensations—exhilaration that reminded her of a summer storm gathering strength in a swirl of rising energy.
When his tongue slid past her parted lips to claim an intimate taste of her, she sighed her surrender. The velvet glide of his tongue against hers made her limbs weak though her blood rushed strong though her veins.
There was decadence in his kiss. There was also a quiet strength, an almost reverent possession. She craved that possession. She wanted to feel as though she belonged to him, if only for that moment under the moon. She wanted to meld with him until her sole existence was about the feel of his arms encircling her, the heavy thud of his heartbeat, the hot, wet depth of his kiss.
She’d always dreamed a kiss could be like this, passionate to a point where nothing else mattered.
Never mind that it made no sense for her to want this man so badly. A man who had done everything to keep her at a distance despite the flashes of fire in his eyes that she hadn’t been able to name until this moment. It did not matter that she intended to leave Lawton Ranch as soon as their marriage was dissolved.
All that mattered was how smooth and firm and perfect his lips felt as they caressed and shaped and drew on hers. And the way he tasted like rich bourbon and deep-buried need. And how he held her like he’d never let her go.
She could stand there kissing him for hours. She wanted to explore every flavor and texture of his mouth. She wanted to kiss his jawline, and the fan of lines at the corners of his eyes, and the side of his throat where his skin was salty and warm with his heavy pulse.
And then suddenly—with no warning at all—he released her. Tearing his mouth from hers with a harsh, smothered sound, he practically shoved himself away from her.
Courtney’s eyes flew open to see the hard expression on his face as he took several steps back, leaving her standing alone and shaken. Where she had just been melting in his arms, she now stood on wobbly legs, confused and gasping for breath.
“Dean, I—”
“That was a mistake,” he interrupted harshly. “I don’t want a wife.”
His words, though she’d heard them before, hurt all the more now, and she suspected she knew why.
“I understand,” she replied softly, carefully, deliberately drawing her composure back around herself like an invisible but indestructible shield. She had never in her life been so grateful to her mother for teaching her how to hide the riot of longing and pain behind a stiff, imperturbable facade. “You still love her.”
“It’s not about Anne,” he replied, his voice low and raw as he turned away from her. “This never had anything to do with her. It’s about you.”
Courtney’s heart stopped. Oh. He didn’t want her.
“I see.” The acknowledgment hit deep, far deeper than she should have allowed him to touch her. “I am sorry I kissed you. It won’t happen again. Good night, Mr. Lawton.”
With as much dignity as she could manage while her legs still felt weak and her blood still thrummed through her veins, Courtney turned and walked up the porch steps. She made it through the front door without even the slightest temptation to turn around for another glimpse of him.
Just as the screen door closed behind her, he muttered an angry curse into the night. The expletive was quickly followed by the crunch of his boots on the gravel drive.
Courtney rushed up the stairs and raced down the hall to her bedroom. Without bothering to light a lamp, she went straight to her window just in time to see him heading toward the barn with a reckless stride. He disappeared inside a minute later.
She sat on the bench before the window for a long time after. Until her breath and heartbeat returned to normal and her skin no longer felt flushed and sensitive to the touch. Finally, she convinced herself to dress for bed.
After removing her dress and carefully laying it over the chair, she stripped down to nothing before slipping into the simple summer nightgown of billowing white cotton and eyelet lace that she had ordered from Mrs. Grainer. Courtney released her hair from the twisted bun and sat at the edge of her bed to brush through its length.
And all the while she thought of Dean.
She recalled the i
mage he had made, a distant figure barely perceptible in the shadows beyond the fire. She had no idea how long he’d been standing there watching the festivities. At one point, she had just felt her gaze drawn out into the darkness and there he’d been. A silent and solitary figure.
Nothing could have stopped her from approaching him then.
When they’d started toward the house together, walking side by side in the darkness, he’d felt almost like a friend. She wasn’t sure why she had decided to prod him as she did, urging him to shake free of his self-imposed reserve, beyond the fact that she had sensed something in him…something held back and bound. Everything he kept so carefully reined in needed to be set loose to breathe every now and then. She knew it because it was the same for her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d denied of her true nature until she had left the confines of her Boston life behind.
Releasing the constant need to control her emotions—the good and the bad—had been liberating. Expressing her joy and delight only increased them.
She wanted him to feel that too.
Asking him to dance had been born of a simple desire to introduce him to something joyful. To distract him from thoughts of duty and responsibility and bring him back to the moment. She had not intended to kiss him, hadn’t even really known she wanted to until the moment she did. And then it was all she wanted.
But it had been a mistake.
She shouldn’t have given such strength to the feelings he inspired in her.
He had made it clear from the beginning how he felt. He might desire her as a man does a woman, but he didn’t want her. She shouldn’t have been surprised when he stopped the kiss the way he did.
Courtney Adams had always been confident of her attractiveness, her popularity, her perceived worth amongst Boston’s social circles. But without the family name, the wealthy background, the props of her privileged existence—what did she have to offer?
Certainly nothing that would be of any value to a man like Dean. She was pampered and self-centered and had no discernable skills or particularly useful attributes.
And yet…he had opened up and revealed the depths of his passion if only for a few brief and stunning moments.
And it had been heavenly.
Finishing her hair with a few last frustrated tugs, she set the brush aside and climbed into bed. But the room was too hot and stifling to find any comfort or rest. She rose to open the window, then lay down again, only to agonize over every minute detail of her first real kiss. The tastes, the sounds, the sensations.
She twisted and turned in her sheets, finally casting them aside.
Though her body had returned to a normal rhythm after leaving Dean, something still simmered beneath the surface. Something had been awakened in his arms and would not go back to sleep.
The very faint sounds of music and occasional bursts of laughter drifted in through her open window. She expected the sounds to soothe her, but the heat of the night and the disturbing nature of her own thoughts kept her restless.
There was no help for it. She gave in to the call of the distant music and the draw of fresh, cooling night air. Not bothering to grab a wrap, she left her bedroom and went downstairs, seeking the relief to be found beneath the stars.
She stepped out the front door and crossed the porch to stand beside one of the posts. Then she tilted her gaze to the sky and breathed deeply. The cool summer night soothed but did not eliminate the restlessness she felt. Wrapping an arm around the post, she leaned against it. She liked the feel of the wood against her cheek, the boards beneath her bare feet, the gentle night wind caressing her bare arms.
The sound of booted steps on gravel had her holding her breath as her stomach executed a swift dive. She glanced to the side just as Dean came around the house from the barn.
He nearly made it all the way to the front steps before he saw her. But when he did, he came to a swift and sudden halt.
His body was as tense as when they’d last stood out here an hour before. His jaw was tightly clenched, his hands were curled in fists, and the muscles that formed over his lean, masculine frame were taut and strained. She searched his expression for some indication of what he was thinking, but all she saw was frustration and a weariness that made her sad.
She hadn’t come outside with any intention of looking for him, but as they stood face-to-face again, she acknowledged that she had hoped to see him.
It was a hope that felt foolish now that she stood in his presence.
She lowered her gaze and released the post, intending to go back inside and leave him to the night alone.
“Don’t go.” His voice—rough and low—touched her deep inside.
She looked up and was struck by how he stared at her, his focus intent. She became instantly breathless. A breeze kicked up and swept around her, lifting long tendrils of her hair. The air between them felt charged. Alive.
“I can’t get you out of my head,” he muttered in irritation. “No matter what I do.”
Courtney didn’t reply. She wasn’t the slightest bit sorry for making him think of her. Not when she wasted so many hours thinking of him. Fair was fair.
She met his gaze with a bold confidence she did not completely feel. She’d committed herself to a liberated new life. She would not back down now that something she wanted so desperately was staring back at her.
He shook his head and lowered his chin just enough to cast his face in shadow. His next words barely carried to her on the night breeze. “I wanna take you to bed, Courtney, so bad it makes me ache. I tried to stay away. Tried not to think about you.” His voice roughened. “I just can’t shake it.”
The words brought an instant image to mind of lying beside his large male body, moving her hands over his skin, looking into his eyes, kissing him.
Goodness, how she wanted to kiss him again. And more. “Then stop trying,” she whispered in reply.
When he lifted his gaze again, what she saw there made her insides go warm and melty. Heat, hunger, and an intense desire to hold nothing back.
“I sure as hell hope you mean that.” The gravel in his voice deepened.
Courtney acknowledged the scandalous path she was heading down. To want this man so intently—knowing there was no future, no true commitment between them—was the height of impropriety. But what did that matter? In her old life, such behavior would lead to abject ruin.
But this was her new life. She made the rules. She decided what was right and good for her.
And right now, it was Dean.
She nodded, her heart beating a wild and untamed rhythm. “I do.”
“It’s too damn much…” He didn’t finish, and Courtney could see how he warred with the instinct to hold it all in. He still felt the need to fight it.
“It’s okay to let go, Dean,” she urged gently.
There was another moment of tense indecision, but then his expression shifted into something fierce and beautiful. It stopped her breath and flipped her world on its axis.
His boots ate up the ground in long strides as he approached. Courtney barely had a chance to blink before he ascended the steps and reached her side. He swept one arm around her waist, curving her body into his. His other hand dove beneath the fall of her hair to cradle the back of her head as he swooped down for a kiss.
And just like that, Courtney was lost.
The effect of his lips on hers was immediate and devastating. Her knees weakened, her belly flipped, and her heart took flight.
He swept his tongue past her teeth in swift possession, tasting and claiming. His need was fiery and strong and…real. And she loved it. His loss of control as he bent over her—his arm a solid band of muscle at her waist, pressing her hips to his, arching her spine—filled her with a delicious sense of power.
All that explosive fire and physical craving was for her.
Maybe he didn’t want her for a wife. But he did want her.
A flutter of something unnameable swept through her, leaving her shaken and weak. Her yearning was raw and powerful. She wanted to crawl into him. She wanted to feel everything he held so tightly inside. All of his heat and passion, every ounce of wildness he could no longer contain.
She grasped his shoulders hard, soaking up his strength, drawing on his hunger to feed her own.
But far too soon, he pulled away.
Courtney made a sound in protest as his mouth left hers.
His response was a low and incoherent rumble that rose from his chest. Then he swept her up into his arms. The world spun in a kaleidoscope of anticipation and desire with Dean at the center, strong and wonderful. Holding her against his chest, he turned toward the house. With sure strides, he crossed the threshold and continued up the stairs to his bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A line was about to be crossed. There were a hundred reasons to stop it, but Courtney could not bring herself to end the beautiful feeling of being in Dean’s arms—of being desired so fiercely.
She wanted this. Despite all it signified and all it would change, she chose to claim this night with him.
He kicked his bedroom door shut behind them and headed straight for his bed. Without pause, he laid her on the soft, quilted blanket and lowered his body to cover hers. The weight of him—pressing down on her thighs, her hips, her belly—was intimate and unnerving. She’d never been so physically close to another, but the uncertainty this time was a heady thing.
He’d braced himself on his elbows, keeping his upper body lifted as he looked down at her. He did not kiss her as she expected—as she hoped. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their unsteady breath as they stared at each other in the darkness.
Why didn’t he kiss her? His earlier rejection echoed through her.
“Dean, are you sure you want this…” The sharp glint in his eyes became shadowed by a frown, and he tilted his head. “With me, I mean,” she clarified, feeling a blush warm her face.