Only His

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “Willow?”

  “I don’t know the words for what I want,” she said raggedly. “But I like having you touch me. I like feeling you against me…inside me. Do you like it, too, being inside me?”

  Caleb fought a silent, savage battle with his body. All that enabled him to keep his self-control was the near certainty that Willow wasn’t what he had thought her to be.

  “Yes, I like it,” he said almost roughly. “But I thought you didn’t. You went stiff.”

  Willow heard the hunger and restraint in his voice, and something more, an uncertainty she had never heard before from him. She looked at Caleb with luminous hazel eyes.

  “I couldn’t help what I did,” she admitted. “Being touched like that…”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “It was just unexpected.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Yes,” Willow said. “It sent heat all through me, everywhere, but especially where you’re holding me now. I love your hands, Caleb. They’re a beautiful fire on my body.”

  He tried to speak but couldn’t. A hammer blow of passion shook him, taking him right up to the edge of ecstasy and leaving him there, shaking. He had never lost control with a woman, but he was a heartbeat away from it now.

  “Hold onto me, Willow. Hold on hard. I’m going to touch you again. There’s something I have to know.”

  Willow started to ask what Caleb meant, but the movement of his hand took her breath away. Tenderly, relentlessly, two fingers pressed into her tight, sleek center. Her nails dug suddenly into his bare shoulders. At first Caleb thought he was hurting Willow. Then he felt her shiver, felt the sultry pulses of her pleasure. He smiled through clenched teeth and probed lightly, seeking her depths. He was barred from them by the taut, frail barrier of her maidenhead.

  Breath hissed through Caleb’s clenched teeth at the proof of Willow’s innocence. He knew he should withdraw from her, leaving her virginity intact if not untouched.

  And he knew he could not force himself to withdraw.

  The certainty that Willow was no man’s fancy lady made it impossible for Caleb to release her. She hadn’t known a man’s kiss, hadn’t known the touch of a man’s hands on her breasts, hadn’t known the tender, savage fires of passion. Yet she knelt nearly naked in front of him now, accepting his presence within her innocence, and her softness caressed him in return, urging him to explore more deeply the secrets only he had ever touched.

  She was his, only his, and he should not take her.

  “Willow.”

  Her name was as much a groan as a word, but she understood. She made a murmurous sound that was pleasure and questioning combined.

  “You’re a virgin,” Caleb said simply.

  Willow opened her mouth. Nothing came out but a gasp of pleasure when he moved within her.

  “I—that is—” She shuddered and threw back her head, forgetting what she had been going to say.

  “Don’t bother trying to deny it. I’m touching the proof of your chastity right now.” Caleb’s eyes opened. Passion made them almost opaque, like hammered gold. His voice was as rough as his touch was gentle. “What is he to you?”

  “Who?”

  “Matthew Moran.”

  Willow blinked and tried to gather her thoughts. “My brother. Matt is my brother.”

  Caleb went utterly still for an instant before breath rushed out of him as though at a body blow. Killing Willow’s fancy man was one thing. Killing her brother was entirely another.

  Willow would never forgive him.

  Her brother. Rebecca’s seducer, the man who murdered my sister as surely as if he had put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

  Willow’s brother!

  Closing his eyes, shutting out Willow, Caleb tried to ease the strident demands of the hunger clawing at his body so that he could think. All he could do was scream silently inside his mind at the savage trick of fate that finally had given him a woman whose passions ran as strong and deep and hot as his own, only to make it impossible to have her, leaving him empty in ways he had never been empty before.

  Slowly, Caleb began withdrawing from Willow’s body, feeling as though he were being torn in two, yet knowing if he took her, she would hate herself when she saw him standing over her brother’s body.

  Her brother’s killer.

  Her lover.

  Willow.

  Caleb didn’t know he had spoken her name aloud until he felt the warm rush of Willow’s breath over her lips.

  “It’s all right,” she said urgently. “I understand. I finally understand.” Her kisses were quick, biting, almost frantic as she felt Caleb’s touch sliding from her body, setting her afire all over again even as he withdrew. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice shaking. “You told me that one day I would be on my knees in front of you, only I wouldn’t be begging you to stop. You were right. I’m begging you now, Caleb. Don’t stop. If you stop touching me, I’ll die. Please, Caleb. I’m beg—”

  With an anguished sound, Caleb took Willow’s mouth, stilling the pleas that were too painful for him to hear any longer. He kissed her deeply, wanting to sink so completely into her that she would never be able to turn her back on him, no matter what he did, no matter who died.

  The kiss wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Willow knew it as well as Caleb did. Her hand went down his body, blindly seeking to complete the joining he had prepared her for. Slender fingers found Caleb, measured him, approved him with an honesty that nearly undid him. He shook with the force of the passion raging through his body, demanding to be freed of all restraint.

  With a thick sound of need, Caleb put his hand over Willow’s as he pulled her down onto his thighs, pressing his aching flesh against her, gently parting the soft folds of skin and touching even softer flesh, pushing a finger’s width into her before control returned and he forced himself to stop.

  But he could not force himself to withdraw.

  “Willow,” Caleb said hoarsely. “Push me away.”

  She curled her hand around him, but not to follow his command. The pressure of his hard flesh just inside her body was delicious. She wanted more of him, not less. She settled more completely over him and instinctively drew up her knees, pushing him a bit more deeply into her body.

  “No!” Caleb said, clenching his hands around Willow’s narrow waist, stilling her motions. “If I take your innocence, someday you’ll hate yourself as much as you’ll hate me.”

  Eyes closed, she shivered and pressed harder, taking more of him.

  “Oh God,” he groaned. “Willow, don’t.”

  “I can’t help it. I’ve needed you all my life and I didn’t even know it. I love you, Caleb Black.” She leaned forward and kissed him, wanting him. “I love you.”

  Agony twisted through Caleb, tearing him until he wanted to scream his protest at the casual cruelty of life. Willow loved him…and as soon as he found Reno, love would become hate.

  But it was too late for regrets, too late for explanations, too late for anything except the sweet violence of passion claiming them.

  “Open your eyes, Willow. I want to see you. I want to remember what it was like to be loved by you, because sure as sunrise, someday you’ll hate me.”

  Caleb’s voice was hoarse beyond recognition. Willow’s eyes opened slowly. They were luminous with love, smoky with passion. She watched his eyes as he pressed more deeply into her. He wanted to ask if he was hurting her, but he had no voice. He had taken women with affection, with gentleness, with pleasure, yet never before had he felt the shattering intimacy of joining himself with a woman in the way he was joining with Willow now—openly, watching her as she watched him, seeing and feeling the exact instant when he transformed her body from virgin to woman, hearing her soft cries as he filled her completely, knowing each elemental shivering of passion through her as though it were his own body shivering.

  He would have spoken to her then, told her how beautiful she wa
s, how much the gift of her innocence meant to him, but he couldn’t breathe. She was sleek and tight around him, and the honey of her passion was hotter than the pool. He rocked gently against her, heard her breath break, and forced himself to be still.

  “Am I hurting you?” Caleb asked in a low voice.

  “No,” Willow said. “It’s good—so good. Like flying. Like riding fire. Oh God—I can’t bear it. Don’t stop—don’t ever stop!”

  Willow’s broken words took the world away, leaving only the fire of passion consuming both of them. Caleb found her mouth in a kiss that was both tender and yet demanded her very soul. His fingers sank deeply into her hips, squeezing, feeling the hidden shuddering of her response tugging at him, stripping away his control one hot pulse at a time. Blindly, he searched through the wet silk of her hair, seeking her most sensitive flesh, discovering it taut and full. He caught the sleek nub between his fingers, rubbing as he rocked against her, harder and deeper each time.

  Caleb’s name was torn from Willow’s throat as passion wracked her. Her anguished cry seared through him, driving him more deeply into her, taking both of them more deeply into the heart of fire. He drank her cries as he wanted to drink the passion coursing through her, to know every bit of her, to sink into her soul. Knowing he should hold back, yet needing her too much to control the full force of his passion, he stroked her soft flesh hungrily, relentlessly, demanding everything she could give to him.

  “Forgive me, love,” Caleb groaned even as he stroked Willow again, dragging fresh cries from her lips. “I can’t stop. It’s never been like this. I can’t—stop.”

  Willow’s back arched and Caleb’s name came from her lips with every rapid breath she took, every motion he made. Suddenly the pleasure became too much to bear, the rack of passion too tight to endure any longer. She cried out for release from the sensual vise that was almost pain.

  And then release came, consuming her more deeply than pleasure had, ecstasy shaking her until she wept.

  Willow’s broken cries stripped away the last vestige of Caleb’s control. He drove into her again and again while the sweet violence of release consumed him as completely as it had her. With a harsh, exultant shout he spent himself repeatedly inside her soft, shivering body.

  And then he held her, rocked her, crying her name in silence, unable to believe he had seduced the innocent sister of the man he had vowed to kill.

  13

  “A RE you all right?” Caleb asked finally, afraid to open his eyes and see how much pain his unbridled passion had caused Willow.

  Reluctant to disturb the golden aftermath of ecstasy, she made a murmurous sound and rubbed her cheek languidly against Caleb’s chest.

  “Willow?”

  She tilted her face back until she could see her lover’s tawny eyes.

  “Forgive me,” Caleb said in a raw voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He shook his head in a gesture of bafflement. “I’ve never lost control like that.”

  Willow’s slow, womanly smile made heat slide impossibly through Caleb’s veins.

  “If you’re waiting for me to berate you, you’ll wait a long, long time,” she said, kissing his shoulder, smiling.

  A strong finger tilted Willow’s chin up until Caleb could look directly into her eyes. He saw no pain, no shadows, nothing but the radiance of a woman who had found completion in the elemental union of male and female.

  “I didn’t hurt you?”

  “Well, you almost did at first. You’re, er…”

  “Too rough,” he said bluntly.

  Willow gave him a surprised look. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  He waited.

  “Caleb,” she said in exasperation, “you must have noticed that you’re a big man. Big hands, big feet, big shoulders, big…just big, that’s all.”

  He saw the red staining Willow’s cheeks and the laughter lurking in her beautiful hazel eyes. His heart ached at the thought of hurting her in any way at all. Gently, he kissed her lips and wished that she were anyone except Reno’s sister—even a fancy lady who had known many men.

  But Willow had been a virgin, and she would always be Reno’s sister.

  No point moaning over spilled milk, Caleb told himself grimly. What’s done is done and I wouldn’t undo it even if I could. I’ll die remembering what it was like to take Willow, to hear her sweet cries, to feel her release tugging at me. A virgin, and she burned me alive.

  Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe that son of a bitch will be killed by Indians or break his neck looking for gold. Maybe he’ll be dead before I find him.

  The thought was like a balm spreading through Caleb. But life hadn’t taught him to believe in the easiest solution to any problem. It had taught him to do what had to be done, because too many people just looked away and left the dirty work for other people to take care of.

  People like Caleb Black, who knew that the simple justice of an eye for an eye was never simple and rarely just, but the alternative was a West where the weak went unprotected and unavenged, a West where men without conscience preyed upon those least able to defend themselves.

  If Reno isn’t dead before I get to him, he soon will be. Or I will be. Or both.

  Caleb gathered Willow close and held her, simply held her, for his thoughts were tearing at him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Didn’t you enjoy what we did?”

  He smiled sadly and buried his face in lavender-scented hair. “If I’d enjoyed it any more, I’d have died.”

  Willow laughed, but there was a catch in her voice. “Yes, it was like that, wasn’t it? Dying, but not quite. Being reborn, but not the same.” Her arms tightened around Caleb. “I’ll never be the same again. You’re part of me now.”

  “Remember that,” he said, holding her hard, his voice rough. “Remember that when you look at me and see the man who took your innocence. I should have controlled myself. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’ve never been like that with a woman. I’m sorry, Willow.”

  “I’m not. I love you.”

  Willow held her breath, wanting to hear him say he loved her. All that came was the steamy whispering of the water around their joined bodies as Caleb turned his head and claimed her mouth in a kiss that was both tender and so intense that it left Willow shaken.

  “Someday you’ll remember having said that, and you’ll wish you had held your tongue,” Caleb said quietly. “But I’m glad to hear it. I’m glad to know I pleased you.”

  Fear squeezed Willow’s heart, draining some of the radiance from her. “Caleb, what’s wrong? I don’t understand.”

  “I know.” He took a deep breath and tried to tell Willow about his dead sister and the man who had seduced her, but Caleb could no more force himself to speak and destroy the light in Willow’s eyes than he had been able to prevent himself from taking the gift of her untouched body. “After we find your brother, you’ll understand.”

  The questions Willow would have asked were scattered by Caleb’s kiss. She didn’t understand the yearning in him, or the darkness. She didn’t understand the unhappiness she sensed in him when she spoke of love, yet she knew all of those things existed as surely as did the stirring of his body within hers once more.

  What Willow did understand was that she wanted to bring Caleb ease and laughter, to be the sunrise banishing darkness from his life.

  Reluctantly, Caleb ended the kiss. “If you don’t get off my lap,” he said, biting Willow’s lips just a bit fiercely, “my good intentions will go to Hell in a handcart.”

  “What good intentions?”

  “I’m trying not to seduce you again.”

  “Ever?” Willow asked, unable to conceal her dismay.

  Caleb closed his eyes and silently conceded that it would be better if he never pressed into Willow’s soft body again, sinking into her, losing himself in the baffling, overwhelming currents of passion that flowed between the two of them. But the thought of never taking her again was unbearable. He had never known any
one like Willow. She satisfied him as no other woman ever had, teaching him how hungry he had been before he had found her.

  And he had just begun to plumb the depths of the passion in her.

  “I’m trying not to seduce you right now,” Caleb said, his voice thick.

  “Why?”

  “It’s too soon for you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Willow smiled slightly. “You aren’t hurting me.”

  “I’m not moving in you, either. But I will be real quick if you don’t get up.”

  Caleb put his hands around Willow’s waist and began lifting her from his lap. The feel of her gliding over his hardening flesh took his breath away. He heard her stifled gasp and his hands tightened, testing the sleek resilience of her waist. The gasp became a throaty sound of pleasure.

  “Stop it,” Caleb said, bending until he could bite the smooth skin of Willow’s shoulder.

  “Stop what?” she murmured as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

  “Making me want to stay in this pool and take you until I’m so weak I drown.”

  “Weak?” Slender hands kneaded Caleb’s shoulders and the thick muscles of his biceps. “You feel about as weak as a mountain.”

  “Didn’t you know? Being with a woman weakens a man.”

  Willow laughed and moved her hips, frankly measuring him. “Do tell. When?”

  His breath came in hard.

  “When does it weaken you?” she repeated as she moved her hips again.

  Caleb’s slow smile made Willow shiver with anticipation.

  “You’ll be the first to know,” he promised. Then he set his teeth and lifted her free of his aroused flesh, biting back a groan as he did so. “After you, the water feels cold.”

  When Willow understood the meaning of his words, she took a quick, broken breath. “And I feel empty. Is it—is it natural to want you like that, to want to stay that way forever?”

  Caleb’s tawny eyes changed as the heat of his body redoubled, set afire by the knowledge that Willow truly enjoyed having him inside her.