Wyoming Heart

by Diana Palmer

  * * *

  SHE FINISHED HER drink along with a delicious slice of cheesecake. She’d noticed that Cort was having one as well. It was a dessert she liked.

  They went into the casino afterward and she played one of the slot machines, at least until she started feeling dizzy. She dropped to the floor suddenly just after she’d started a new round.

  Cort was concerned. He propped her against his knee. “What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly.

  “Too many of those coconut thingies, I think,” she said, embarrassed that her voice was slurred. “You’re all blurry,” she added, trying to get his face to focus.

  “Oh boy,” he said to himself. He motioned to one of the security people. “Can you stay with her for just a minute? I’m going to need to get a room so that she can lie down for a few minutes.”

  “Of course,” the man replied.

  * * *

  SHE WAS FLOATING. She felt lighter than air. She opened her eyes and Cort was sitting beside her on the biggest bed she’d ever been in.

  “Did I pass out?” she asked. Her words were still slurred.

  “Abundantly.” He brushed back her hair. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so. I’m not sure I ever want to have rum again as long as I live, though.”

  “It was my fault,” he said. “I’d forgotten that you aren’t used to alcohol.”

  “I hated it. Henry was always drunk. Always trying to take my clothes off.” She stretched, her dark eyes on Cort’s face. “I’d let you take my clothes off, though,” she said, smiling a little hazily. “Gosh, you’re so handsome. I never thought a man who looked like you would ever want to take out somebody as homely as me!”

  “You’re not homely,” he said, scowling. “You have a pretty face.” He looked down. “And beautiful little breasts. I get hungry just looking at them through fabric.”

  “You do?”

  He was shocked that he’d said such a thing. He shouldn’t have had so much alcohol, either. It had gone to his head. She was going to his head.

  “I thought men liked women with big breas...breats...breasts,” she said, getting it right on the third try.

  “I like small ones,” he replied. He moved onto the bed next to her. His lean hand went to the buttons on her blouse. “Don’t let me do this.”

  She laid back with her arms beside her head. “Okay,” she agreed, smiling dizzily.

  “That’s not helping.”

  She moved lazily. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “I want you to stop me.”

  She blinked as he got the blouse open and started on the front hook that held her lacy little brassiere together. “Stop you from doing what?”

  “This,” he said, pulling the edges away. He caught his breath. She was beautiful. Her skin was silky, glowing, perfect. Firm little breasts with hard pink nipples. It was as if he’d never seen a woman before.

  “I’m too little,” she began.

  “Oh, baby, you’re not too little,” he whispered, bending toward her. “You’re just right...!”

  His mouth settled right over her breast. And while his tongue worked on the nipple, he suckled her suddenly. She came right off the bed with a husky little cry and caught his head. But she was pulling, not pushing.

  “Oh my gosh...!” she cried out, gasping.

  She made it all new for him. He was as inebriated as she was, out of control and having the time of his life. He was sixteen again, with his first woman. That was how it felt.

  “You taste like candy,” he murmured against her soft skin.

  His big, lean hands smoothed up her sides, easing her out of the blouse and bra. They felt wonderful on her skin.

  “It’s...not like it is in books,” she managed unsteadily.

  “Isn’t it?” he whispered as he moved to the other breast. “How so?”

  She shivered. “I didn’t know it would feel...like this,” she whispered brokenly.

  “And we’ve barely started.”

  She would have said something else but his mouth moved up to cover hers softly, slowly, hungrily, and while he kissed her, he unsnapped his shirt. Seconds later, she felt his bare chest against her bare breasts. She moaned so hungrily that whatever effort he might have made to slow things down went up in smoke.

  * * *

  HE HAD HER out of her clothing with an ease that should have set up red flags in her mind, except that he kept her at fever pitch the whole time. His mouth was all over her, exploring her, tempting her, teaching her, in a hot silence that went from pleasure to higher pleasure, each plateau leading only to another, better one.

  She was dimly aware that he’d moved the covers and the pillows off the bed and that more bare skin than ever was now in contact with her own. She thought that she should say something, protest, slow him down. But what she was feeling was new and exciting, and her inhibitions had long ago been compromised by the unfamiliar liquor.

  His mouth slid down her long legs, to the inside of her soft thighs. Involuntarily, her legs moved farther apart to give him more access. One big hand had moved right in between her legs, his thumb pressing in a place that shocked and delighted her all at the same time.

  She made a sound, a tiny protest.

  “Let me,” he whispered huskily.

  So she did. Her hips lifted to his hand and she shivered as she felt a taste of pleasure that was like holding a live wire in her hands, She cried out softly.

  His mouth pressed down hard on her stomach while his fingers slowly, tenderly, invaded her. He felt her flinch, just barely.

  He lifted himself so that he could see her eyes while he did it. “Don’t look away,” he whispered.

  Her lips fell apart in a silent gasp as she realized what he was doing. She flinched again and her nails bit into his arms.

  “I’ve never done anything this exciting in my life,” he said roughly as he watched her. “My God, it’s...it’s...beyond words,” he whispered as he felt the whispery protection of her body come away in his fingertips. He flushed as he looked straight into her eyes. “Oh, baby,” he breathed. “Baby!”

  She was shivering. There hadn’t been much pain, but she was beginning to realize what she was doing—almost. Just as she thought that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, his hand shifted again and she moaned and lifted toward him in an arch.

  “There?” he asked softly, and did it again.

  “I... I...never...” she stammered.

  “I know.” They were only words, but there was a world of emotion in them. He shifted over her, so that she could feel the hard press of his skin all the way up and down her own body. He shivered, once, as his mouth slid tenderly over hers and cherished it. Still, that expert hand taught her body new sensations, kept her in thrall, while he eased between her long legs and she felt the press of him at her innocence.

  Her eyes opened wide and her fingers dug into his upper arms.

  He took a long, shuddering breath and moved down, right inside her body. He stilled, and they stared at each other.

  She flushed. It was so intimate. She couldn’t have imagined anything more intimate, even more than what he’d already done with her. But she wasn’t fighting him. She could feel him, inside her, warm and hard and tender.

  He pushed a little harder. She swallowed, hard, but she didn’t push at him or try to get away. Her eyes were still looking straight into his.

  “All the way, this time,” he breathed, and his hips pushed down. He let out the breath that had caught in his throat. “Okay?” he asked tenderly.

  She shivered. “O...okay.”

  He eased completely into her and he groaned, harshly, his eyes dilating as they met her shocked ones.

  “You’re...inside me,” she whispered shakily.

  “Deep inside,” he managed, shivering.
<
br />   His big hands framed her face, on either side of her head, and he bent to her mouth, resting his weight on his forearms. He moved slowly. “Do whatever you want to do,” he whispered. “Anything goes.”

  Her eyes searched his. “Anything?”

  He smiled, tenderly. “Anything.” His hand moved between them, and he touched her where they were intimately joined. He stroked her, watched her eyes dilate, felt her body jump under his. He laughed softly. “You burn me up inside. I think I dreamed you.”

  Her hands were on his chest. Fascinated, she moved them to his waist and looked up, hesitating, into his eyes.

  “Touch me,” he whispered. “Come on. Touch me.”

  She slid her hands down until her fingers encountered him, where he was touching her.

  He shivered and laughed out loud. “Oh yes. Like that, baby. Just like that!”

  “You like it?” she whispered.

  “I love it. Do whatever you want to do.”

  She was fascinated. She’d never encountered anything like this in her reading, or even her own writing. She traced him and felt his body quiver, heard him laugh as he encouraged her to be adventurous. And all the while, he touched and traced and whispered erotic, shocking things to her.

  The heat rose quickly in both of them. His hips began to lift and fall, and she shivered with every slow, deep thrust, her eyes looking up into his.

  “I thought I knew it all,” he managed, his voice choked as pleasure began to rise in him. “I knew nothing!”

  She moaned, lifting up as he moved down, her eyes holding his. Her fingers were digging into his arms.

  “Don’t close your eyes when you come,” he whispered huskily. “I want to see you when you feel this for the first time. I want to watch you.”

  The frank request should have shocked and embarrassed her, but she was still reeling from the effects of the alcohol, enjoying the first true physical pleasure of her entire life. She was beyond embarrassment, for the moment. She wanted to ask if he was accustomed to watching women when they reached a pinnacle, but he moved suddenly, unexpectedly, and she cried out.

  There had been all the time in the world. Now there was none. He drove into her, his eyes holding hers the whole time while she gasped and clung to him and begged him not to stop.

  He shifted his hips and his legs, moving hers even farther apart as the pleasure climbed and climbed. He came down on her with his knees beside her rib cage, her own beside his as he built the pressure and the pleasure whisper by whisper, moan by moan.

  He shifted again and felt her shudder. “Are you ready?” he whispered huskily, and he moved down into her with quick, hungry, almost violent thrusts.

  She couldn’t even speak. Her mouth was open as she endured such a rush of pleasure that she thought she wouldn’t survive it. She cried out, sobbing, her eyes dilating, her body convulsing.

  “Yes,” he ground out. “Oh... God...!”

  His teeth clenched as he arched down into her and shuddered over and over and over again, until he thought his spine would snap. He actually sobbed with the force of a pleasure he’d never experienced in his life, with any of his lovers.

  An eternity later he collapsed on her damp body, still shuddering.

  “Are you all right?” he asked at her ear, his voice husky and urgent. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she breathed. “Oh no. No.”

  He caught his breath and was about to tell her how glad he was when he felt the tears on his cheek.

  He lifted his head and winced at the expression on her face. The alcohol had finally worn off, far too soon. She looked as if she’d committed a cardinal sin. And in her own mind, he thought grimly, she probably had.

  “Oh...please...” she whispered, pushing gently at his chest. “I’m going to be sick...!”

  He withdrew at once and watched her vault off the bed and into the bathroom. He could hear her dinner coming back up.

  Almost boneless with pleasure, he got back into his clothes so that she wouldn’t be any more embarrassed than she already was.

  He gathered up her own clothing and went to the bathroom door. “I brought your clothes,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  The commode flushed. There was running water. She came to the door and only opened it a slit. She couldn’t bring herself to look up past his chin. She eased one hand out the door for her clothes.

  “Get dressed,” he said quietly. “Then we’ll talk, okay?”

  She didn’t answer him. She took her clothing inside and closed the door.

  * * *

  THERE WAS A minibar in the room. He got himself a cola and pulled out a ginger ale for her. Probably it would be the only thing she could keep down. He felt ashamed of himself. She’d been compromised by the alcohol and he’d taken advantage of it. Well, not really. He’d been compromised by it as well. He couldn’t actually remember how they’d wound up in this room.

  While he was working on the memory, she came slowly out of the bathroom and sat down on the sofa. He pushed the soft drink over to her.

  “Thanks,” she said heavily.

  “I don’t even remember how we got in here,” he said, pushing back his damp hair. “You got sick downstairs...”

  She nodded.

  He took a sharp breath and sipped his drink. “I’m sorry. I don’t...”

  “I don’t, either,” she replied. She grimaced. “I’ve never had a drink of hard liquor in my life.”

  “I have. But not enough to compromise me, until now.” He studied her quietly. “You were a virgin.”

  She colored furiously and took another sip of her drink, almost enough to choke her, because she remembered all too well losing it in the most erotic manner she’d ever encountered.

  He made a face. “I guess that’s a memory you’d rather not have. Sorry.”

  “We both had too much to drink.”

  He nodded.

  “We should go home,” she said after a minute.

  He didn’t need to ask if she’d been taking a preventative. He was sure she hadn’t. And he wasn’t used to being expected to provide protection, so he’d had nothing with him. Even if he had, they were both too involved too quickly for him to have thought of it.

  Great, he thought privately, now she’ll get pregnant and she’ll have it made until the kid graduates. All the money she’s never had...

  He stopped abruptly. She thought he was a working cowboy. She had no idea who he was, really.

  “You don’t have to worry about...anything,” she said after a minute.

  “You’re taking something?” he asked hopefully.

  She hesitated. “Yes. I’m...taking something.” She was. Vitamins. But he didn’t need to know. He’d go back to Texas pretty soon and if she got pregnant, he’d never know. She thought about a baby and she felt warm all over. This was a complication she didn’t need, but she’d wanted children all her life. She wasn’t even upset about the possibility. But a roaming cowboy, well, he’d be worried that she’d want to garnishee his wages or something. She wasn’t like that, but he wouldn’t know it. He wouldn’t need to know it.

  “Oh.” Odd, that he was disappointed. Because just at the last, he’d been thinking about babies. Mina, with her homemaking skills, would be a natural at taking care of a baby. He’d thought of a family, himself, but the sort of women he carried around with him didn’t predispose him to fatherhood. He’d grown cynical, when woman after woman laughed at the thought of getting pregnant.

  “So you don’t have anything to worry about,” Mina said.

  “I wasn’t worried,” he said gently, and he smiled at her. It was a different kind of smile than he’d ever given her. It made her feel warm, protected.

  She sipped more of her soft drink.

  “You’re right, though. We should get home. It’s very late.”


  He got up and she followed suit.

  * * *

  SHE WAITED WHILE he settled the bill and then they got into the truck for the long drive home.

  He reached for her soft hand and tucked it into his as he drove. “Will it embarrass you if I tell you that I’ve never enjoyed a woman so much?”

  She gasped.

  “I guess it would,” he said.

  “You’ve been around,” she began.

  “Yes. Around. With sophisticated, selfish women who wanted pleasure but weren’t disposed to give it without a lot of incentive.” By which he meant, unknown to her, rich gifts. He glanced at her. “You gave me your innocence. I wasn’t worthy of such a gift,” he added quietly.

  “I was drunk,” she said.

  He laughed. “I was drunk, too. That doesn’t change what I said. You were meant for a different sort of man altogether. Not me.”

  Her heart sank. “There’s never been anybody I felt that way with before,” she said after a minute.

  Pride glowed in him. “Not even McGuire?” he asked, hating his own jealousy.

  “I don’t feel like that about Jake. About anybody.”

  His fingers curled into hers. He was lost for words. He felt guilty and vaguely ashamed, but she was taking it on the chin, without blaming him, without tears. It made him feel even worse.

  She turned her head toward him and said, “I know you like being free. Cowboys don’t settle down, ever. They move from place to place and just enjoy where they are. So I don’t expect you to start making me promises or apologies or anything,” she added. “I’m the last person who’d ever try to tie you down.”

  His heart jumped. “Plenty have tried,” he said before he thought, and he sounded as disillusioned as he felt.

  “That’s not right. You shouldn’t let people use guilt to make you do things.”

  “You’re very forgiving for a woman.”

  She smiled. “I’ve had a hard life,” she said. “Hatred and anger just well up inside you, like a wound, and fester. They destroy people. I watched it destroy my mother. She hated my father. She hated me. She drank because she hated us so much, and in the end, it killed her. I don’t want to end up like that.”