"The Raineses are very big on bloodlines and family and protocol. So, I came to the ranch with Sammi, to this wonderful place with horses and wide open spaces and grandparents … and I let myself get caught up in it."
"How did the kid get to Taos?"
"My friend, Jeannie, and her husband, Charlie, were invited to a party the Raineses gave to introduce me to their friends last week, and I let Sammi go back with them until the wedding. I thought if I had some time alone with Trevor, that things might change. That I might be able to figure out what I was doing."
"Did you love him?" he asked, his voice tight in his own ears. But he had to know.
She never looked away from Quint. "No. I know that now. Oh, I wanted to. I wanted to make Sammi's life better than anything I could give her and I would have married him. Then I overheard Trevor in the barn telling his friend about his parents' pressure on him and that if I gave him any trouble about seeing other women, he'd convince his parents that I wasn't a good mother and have me thrown out."
She shrugged. "Then Trevor spotted me and you know the rest. The Raineses have all the advantages in the situation, so I wasn't going to stay around and settle this with them. On top of that, I knocked out their son. As much as they get angry at him, he's the world to them."
"So, you ran." Not a question, just a statement of fact.
"Yes, I ran. Now, I'm going to get Sammi and disappear. I've been on my own with Sammi from the start, and I can do it again."
He knew she could. But he also knew she shouldn't have to. "How old is she?"
"Twenty-two months."
He ran a hand roughly over his face. A child. Her child. "She's at your friend's home in Taos?"
She hesitated. "I don't think I should tell you exactly where she is, just in case—"
That touched a nerve and he strode back to her, barely keeping himself from grabbing her by her shoulders and shaking some sense into her. "What in the hell? Do you think I'd run into your ex-fiancé and spill my guts or work out a plea bargain with the authorities if they picked me up?"
Her eyes were wide, but she didn't back down. "No, but the less you know the less trouble you can get into."
"Lady, in case you didn't notice, I'm up to my hips in your trouble. Another couple of inches isn't going to drown me."
"I don't want you to—"
He went closer, any anger he'd had when she told him the last part of her story was gone. And something else had taken its place. "I've told you over and over again, don't worry about me."
He found himself reaching out and touching her chin with one finger. "You're doing this all for the kid, aren't you?"
"Yes." She shrugged. "And if anything ever happened to me, she wouldn't be alone. I thought … I let myself think that if I let the Raineses take us in Sammi would have it all. Security, a family, love, caring. And a real father. That was a joke."
"You made a mistake," he said softly, unnerved by the trembling in her jaw.
"Boy, did I ever. I mean, I knew I didn't love Trevor, but love didn't seem necessary. Other things would have made up for it. But I couldn't let him use Sammi like that. She's wonderful. She's so special, Quint, and she deserves so much more than I can give her."
"Hey, you're giving your child a lot more than most kids get."
She looked at him, her eyes overly bright, and he prayed that she wouldn't cry. "What?"
"You love her. Any kid would be fortunate to have someone love them like you love her." Any man would be more than fortunate to have this woman's love. And it stunned him that he was actually having twinges of what might have been jealousy for a little child he'd never even met. "You can't fake that, or buy that, or demand that," he said, his voice rough.
She closed her eyes for a long moment and he knew she was trying to gather her control. And he hated it. He'd seen it often enough, her trying to tamp down her fears and uncertainties, literally holding herself together. And he wanted to be there for her, to give her a place to cry and rage if she wanted to, a place where she was safe and happy.
God, this woman touched him on levels he couldn't begin to comprehend.
"Hey," he said softly and let himself gently cup her chin. "Quit beating yourself up, Annie. Sammi's a damn lucky kid."
Annie opened her eyes, the green deep and vibrant with unshed tears and when her tongue touched her pale lips, he knew that he was damn lucky himself to be here with her. Damn lucky she pulled him into her life and held on until he didn't want to let go.
He knew he didn't have any right to feel the way he was feeling. He wasn't what she needed or what she wanted, and he sure couldn't give her the things she deserved, but on a selfish level, he wanted her. Once, just once, he wanted to know her, to touch her, to explore her and to feel her against him.
And he did what he'd wanted to do for every second of every minute of every hour since he'd first met her. He lowered his head, touched his lips to hers, and the instant he caught the taste of her in his mouth and felt her softness against him, he was lost.
For a heartbeat Annie didn't move, then with a shuddering sigh, she seemed to collapse against him. Her arms went around his neck, and her lips opened in invitation. And the passion that had been there with each touch from the first, exploded into an aching need that threatened to consume Quint.
The place she'd spoken of, that place where no ugliness could intrude, was here and now. It was real, as real as the feeling of her tongue teasing his, the feeling of her breasts pressed to his chest. She held onto him, arching against him, and he ran his hand over her back, over tensed muscles, then he drew back.
Her eyes were heavy with desire, and her lips were swollen from the kisses. And he knew if he was going to stop this, it had to be now, no matter what the price for him. He framed her face with his hands and he looked into a face that he knew he could love. He trembled at that thought, then knew it wasn't a matter of "could" any more.
He loved Annie.
God help him, but she'd burst into his world and given him life. A life he'd never had before. And even when they were running from the cops or hiding, he was more alive now than he ever remembered being.
The words were there, the words to tell her how he felt, but they wouldn't come. They couldn't. He didn't have the right to love this woman.
When her hand lifted to brush his cheek, he froze. Then she touched his scar. The contact was as light as a feather, but it was so intense that he had to close his eyes to absorb the feelings. Then Annie moved. She kissed the damaged skin, and he felt as if her touch could heal his soul.
God, that's what he needed. He needed to be whole, to find the part of him he thought he'd lost forever, and she was here. He shuddered when her hands spread on his chest, and the contact seared him through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. He lost the ability and will to do anything more than feel and sense and absorb this woman's presence.
* * *
Chapter 11
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With his eyes closed, Quint could feel everything more clearly, the way her fingers splayed over his chest, the way her thigh was pressed to his, the way her breath seemed to bathe him in gentle heat. Slowly, her hands worked their way under his shirt, and he realized how desperate he was for skin on skin contact. Softness, silky heat, comfort, losing himself, freeing himself from everyday life, from just existing.
He opened his eyes and looked into the emerald green of hers, seeing the echo of his own feelings deep in her gaze. Then he moved, in some way getting them both to their feet. With a rightness that staggered him, he drew her to him and they simply held on tight for what could have been an eternity or maybe just a heartbeat.
When she breathed his name and lifted her face to his, whatever control he'd been trying to maintain was gone. With a low groan, he captured her mouth as his hands stroked her back, then dropped to her hips. He cupped her bottom, then lifted her up to him. Her arms wound around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair, then her legs wrapped tightly ar
ound his waist.
Quint twisted to the side and pressed Annie back against the rough wall, ravishing her with his tongue and willing her even closer with his hands. She put her head back, exposing the sweep of her throat to his kisses and he tasted the sweetness of her skin, then the soft cleavage where her shirt parted just above her breasts.
For a second he thought of stopping it all. He thought of telling her to run and keep running, that a man like him was as much a threat to her as Trevor ever could be. But he wasn't that noble. He wasn't even close. He felt her body against his, her legs surrounding him, and her touch on his back, and he knew that nobility was sadly lacking in him.
Passion that should have built gradually was there in full force for Annie, exploding in her with white hot fire. The touch of the man sent her reeling, and the knowledge that she could be making a mistake was lost under the avalanche of ecstasy that surrounded and threatened to drown her. She held on to Quint, tasting him, feeling his touch on her, then he was carrying her into the cabin.
She buried her face in his neck, and as they fell back onto the stripped bed together, she didn't let go of him. She kept her legs around his hips, and found herself under him, looking up into his midnight brown eyes. And the passion became all consuming. Awkwardly she tried to lift her tank top to take it off, but her fingers refused to cooperate. Then Quint was on his knees between her legs and he reached for the soft material. He tugged it up, over her head and slid it off her arms.
She hadn't put on a bra after her shower, and her breasts were naked. When she looked up at Quint, her nipples tightened, and she heard Quint groan, a low sound at the back of his throat. But he didn't move. He didn't touch her. He simply looked at her with a fiery hunger that took her breath away.
She reached for his hands, then drew them to her breasts, wanting his touch on her. And slowly his hands cupped her breasts and she arched toward him. Slowly his thumbs teased her nipples, and she moaned softly, shards of sensations shooting through her, down into her belly. Then Quint bent over her, his lips and tongue finding what his hands had just felt, and he drew her nipple into his mouth.
"Oh, yes," she whispered, and his hands moved lower, pushing aside the cotton of her shorts. And some way the shorts were gone, then her panties were slipped off her legs, and she lay naked under Quint.
Quint's hands moved over her, touching, feeling, teasing and building more fire with each caress. She crushed the cotton of his T-shirt in her hands, then tugged at it, needing to feel his skin against hers, his heat mingling with hers. For a brief moment, Quint moved back, and she opened her eyes to find him on his knees, tugging the T-shirt off to expose his bare chest.
She reached out, needing to feel him, but he moved even farther from her. She scrambled to her knees when he slipped off the bed and stood by the side. She reached out and touched the snap at the waist of his jeans, and she could feel his arousal under the denim. She looked up and saw him close his eyes and tip his head back as she slowly ran her hands up and down by the zipper. He trembled, then covered her hands with his to stop the motion.
With a shuddering breath he tugged at the snap, slid down the zipper, and stepped out of the jeans, leaving him in just his undershorts. The stark white against his skin was as sensual as anything Annie had ever seen, and to have the physical proof of his need for her only made things seem more right.
She touched the elastic waist of his shorts, then Quint helped her pull the cotton down until he was in front of her as naked as she was. For a brief moment she saw him fully and she reached out to him. Then he was back on the bed with her, his legs parting hers, and he braced himself with his hands flat on either side of her shoulders.
She looked up at him, his dark hair falling forward to partially shadow his face. She reached up to grip his shoulders and pulled him down to her.
She felt his strength testing her, and when she lifted her hips in invitation, he slid into her, filling her slowly and surely with shuddering intensity. She tried to lift her hips even higher, wanting him to be as deeply inside as was possible.
Then he began to move and she matched his rhythm, faster and faster, until there was nothing but shimmering ecstasy and love. When Annie dug her fingers into his shoulders, holding on in case she flew into a million pieces of joy, she felt Quint thrust harder and harder, forcing her higher and higher.
And when he climaxed, Annie met him, and she felt him take her with him to a place that she never knew existed before. A place where it was just him and her riding out wave after wave of pleasure and completion.
Annie stayed very still for a long time after she and Quint settled back in the bed. She was against his side, his arm around her, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder, and his legs resting heavily over her thighs. She didn't move, afraid if she did that this would all evaporate and she'd find out she was dreaming.
She slowly inhaled, taking his scent, and she concentrated on the feeling of his body where it touched hers. His heart beat against her cheek, and the soft sounds of his breathing rippled through her. Oh, he was real. Very real, not a dream, and loving him was the easiest thing she'd ever done.
Love. She let the word sink into her being, and she knew how right it sounded. She loved this man with his dark eyes, his gentle touch and the ability to build a hunger in her that only he could satisfy. Even now, sated with the pleasures he'd given her, she could feel the stirring of need coming again. An ache formed deep inside her, sending a tingling message through her, and she spread her hand on his stomach.
She shifted to press her lips to his chest, and she felt him take a low, shuddering breath. When she eased back and lifted on one elbow, she found his dark eyes on her, and the stirring in her intensified.
She reached up and touched the scar that cut over his eye. "A bottle?"
"I didn't duck fast enough to miss getting cobbered with a half-full bottle of Dom Pérignon. Sort of a status symbol in prison. Others had scars from knives and metal and soda bottles, but not from a vintage champagne bottle."
Even though he was making light of it, her heart broke for what he'd been through. She remembered the moment he'd come to her, the intensity of his need and the gentleness of his touch. She trailed her finger over his skin, the freshly shaved jaw, then down his neck to the hollow where a pulse beat furiously. So she wasn't the only one who was feeling that need again.
"It must have been horrible in that place," she whispered. "I can't imagine what it would be like. And you didn't belong there."
His eyes narrowed as if he couldn't quite face what had happened there, then he touched her lips with the warmth of his fingers. "Shh, enough. That's the last thing I want to think about. All I want to think about is right now."
"Yes," she said, knowing she needed the same thing. As she slipped her hand lower, she skimmed over the soft trail of hair on his chest. She felt his breath catch as she moved lower until she felt the evidence of how much he wanted her. As much as she wanted him. And when she circled his strength with her hand, he groaned and pressed his head back into the mattress, his eyes closed.
"Oh, God, it's—" He took a shuddering breath, then moved abruptly.
His hands spanned her waist, and the next instant she was straddling him. With his dark eyes burning into hers, Quint eased her down on him until he filled her. It was both shocking and wonderful to her how right it felt. She looked down at him, into dark, fiery eyes, and knew she loved him in a way she had never loved another man in her life.
She felt as if he were a part of her, and when he started to move under her, feelings exploded in her. He was more than part of her, she thought as the pleasures mounted. Shards of joy shot through her, the momentum of their movements keeping pace with her building ecstasy.
When she felt the world explode into brilliant pleasure that left her breathless, when she heard Quint call her name, she knew that Quint was part of her soul.
* * *
Quint never slept. He didn't want to waste
time sleeping. Not when he was holding Annie, relishing her softness, her heat, lying in the gentle silence … and for the first time in an eternity, he wasn't alone.
Dreams in prison hadn't even come close to the reality of this woman. And nothing could come close to what he'd found when she gave herself to him. He closed his eyes, bombarded with emotions that he couldn't ever remember dealing with before.
Women had been there for him, some staying longer than others, but none had made him think about forever the way Annie did. A deep chill invaded his being as the word rang in his mind.
Forever. The pain radiating in him was unbearable as he admitted that there was no forever with this woman. Here and now was all he'd ever have of her.
Thoughts he'd had just before he touched Annie on the porch became clearer and more unavoidable. Annie wanted her child. She wanted stability and home and family and normalcy, and he knew that he couldn't give her any of those things. An ex-con was far from stable. He hadn't had a home for what seemed his entire life. His family consisted of one brother whom he saw every three or four years. And normalcy? Not even close.
When she stirred beside him, his body responded instantly to her contact. Forever would have never been long enough to be with Annie but he knew he wasn't a man for forever. He never could be. What he had now was it, the sum total. He'd get Annie to her child, wish her well, then make himself walk away.
When she sighed softly, the sound ran havoc over his nerves. If he didn't get some distance from her right now, he'd never be able to let her go. If he took her one more time, the bond would grow even more, and breaking it would kill him.
Carefully, he eased away from her and got out of bed. For a moment, he let himself look down at her as she curled onto her side and settled back in sleep with a sigh. His hand moved as if of its own volition and almost touched her cheek, it almost brushed at her curls, but he drew back before he could let himself do it.
THE BRIDE WORE BLUE JEANS Page 13
