Lone Star Lover

by Debbi Rawlins

  She waited expectantly, while getting comfortable with forming her hand in a karate chop. She was a determined student, he’d give her that. Her serious attention sure made him feel more comfortable that she could defend herself.

  “Now, what I’m about to explain is your best bet at disabling a man long enough so that you can get away before he recovers. You’ll use your knee, by bringing your leg up like this and hitting him in the groin.”

  Rebecca stared blankly at him. Did she not understand the word groin, he wondered, or was she embarrassed?

  He cupped a hand over his fly, drawing her gaze. “This is where you’re aiming. It’s a very sensitive area and—”

  Her mouth quivered, and she quickly pressed her lips together. But not before he got that she was trying not to laugh.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes? What’s so funny?”

  Her cheeks turned pink, but she still looked as if she were on the verge of laughing. “Nothing.”

  “I figure you know what’s down here,” he said, cupping himself more soundly, while torturing himself at the same time.

  “Yes,” she said, and laughed in earnest.

  “Well, fine.” He moved his hand. “I hope this is a joke and not something I have to take personally.”

  She dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, it was long ago, three years maybe…one of the young braves, his name is Blue Sky.” She paused, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of rose.

  “You have to tell me now.”

  She visibly swallowed. “Blue Sky was showing off, trying to get Moon Dance to notice him when he slid from a tree. He didn’t see the stump. After that the squaws called him Blue Balls.” She started to laugh again and quickly covered her mouth.

  “Ouch.” Jake winced in sympathy for the poor bastard. “You laugh, but let me tell you, that’s about as painful as it gets for a man.”

  She touched her throat. “I know,” she said, sobering. “That was very rude of me to laugh.”

  He smiled. “I like hearing you laugh.” He winked. “As long as it’s not at me.”

  Her expression turned wistful. “I used to laugh all the time. Twice I got in trouble at school for laughing, but I was a very good student so Father never took a switch to me.”

  Man, he had so many questions for her. But he’d feel more relaxed once he was convinced she could take care of herself when he wasn’t around. “Speaking of being a good student, let’s get back to your lesson.”

  She squared her shoulders, and spread her feet apart as he’d demonstrated earlier, looking like a warrior preparing for battle. Most of her long blond hair fell down her back, but a thick lock curled over one breast, calling attention to a protruding nipple that prodded the thin fabric of her dress. The way she looked right now would disarm any man, catch him off guard long enough for her to do some damage. Hell, she was doing a number on him, all right.

  “Okay, back to kneeing the groin,” he said, looking away from her breasts. “Don’t be shy about making his b—this area here—the target.” He passed a hand over his fly, discomfited by her unwavering stare.

  It took him a second to realize he’d hardened, and that the longer she stared, the more his cock thickened.

  Damn. That hadn’t gone as planned.

  He shifted, and she finally blinked. What now? Did he apologize? Pretend nothing happened? Except if he didn’t adjust his jeans soon, she’d be calling him Blue Balls II.

  She cautiously lifted her gaze to his, and he couldn’t tell if she were embarrassed, naive or getting heated herself. No, not naive. He didn’t think embarrassed either, which left…

  Okay, so maybe his time traveling tale could wait.

  “Rebecca?”

  She took a couple of steps toward him, lifting her face and parting her lips. Longing was stamped on her delicate features, a longing that closely mirrored his own.

  If he did this, if he made love to her like he so desperately wanted to, could he move forward objectively? So much was at stake, so much that depended on him keeping a clear head and not getting them both killed. Getting him back to his own time.

  She gingerly placed her hands on his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I almost forgot about my ribs.”

  With a featherlike touch, she traced his lower lip. “The blisters are gone.”

  “I noticed that when I was shaving.” He probed the corner of his mouth where the worst offender was now a faint scar which he knew would soon disappear. He smiled, and then brushed his lips across hers. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

  She moved her hand to the healing gash at the side of his head. “And here? Is it better?”

  “Much.” He wasn’t lying. Until now it hadn’t occurred to him that he’d not had a single headache since yesterday. “Maybe you should check my side.”

  “I should,” she agreed, her eyes warm and knowing as she moved back and unsnapped his shirt.

  Impatient, he helped her and then shrugged out of the scratchy flannel. The way she ogled his chest did his male ego good. No matter what mission he’d been assigned, even when working undercover, he’d always made time for exercise. He told himself that keeping physically fit was necessary for the job, but he knew damn well part of it was vanity. Right now, his diligence was paying off big-time.

  Rebecca smoothed her palms over his pecs, immediately bringing his nipples to attention. She touched them, too, lightly with the tip of her finger, with a fascination that didn’t make sense. She had to have seen more than her share of naked male chests.

  “You have a lot of muscle,” she said, briefly gazing up at him, and then following the course of her hands as they moved down to his ridged belly. “Everywhere.”

  “I work at it.”

  Her brows drew together in a puzzled frown, but she didn’t ask any more questions, just returned to exploring him with her hands and eyes, everywhere but the intended spot.

  “How do my ribs look?” he asked, belatedly hoping his teasing didn’t scare her away.

  Her lips twitched, and she focused her attention on his side. “The bruises will last awhile.”

  “Yep.”

  With a cheeky glint in her eyes, she met his gaze. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”

  “Over here a little bit.” He rubbed the side of his upper thigh, thankful he’d rebounded. She’d caught him off guard with her return volley. “Better have a look.”

  “Yes.” She moistened her lips, and then showed some hesitation as she moved her hands to the waistband of his jeans.

  “Here.” He quickly unsnapped and unzipped, not wanting to lose their momentum.

  Her fascinated gaze watched as he drew his jeans down his hips. He was forced to stop.

  His boots. Damn.

  It hurt to bend over so he sat at the edge of the bed. It still hurt like hell.

  Rebecca dropped to the floor and knelt before him. She tugged up each hem until she got to the tops of his boots and then pulled off one, and then the other. Her dress had slid off her shoulder as it often did. He understood now why her clothes all seemed too big for her. They were borrowed, probably from Trixie, who was closest to Rebecca’s size.

  Her gaping neckline provided a hell of a view from where he sat, and certainly didn’t help his aroused condition. She had small perfect breasts, crowned by dusky rose nipples that stood out like two plump cherries.

  She glanced up suddenly, and there was no way he could deny he’d been blatantly looking down her dress. Blinking, she sat back on her heels and stared uncertainly at him.

  “You’re beautiful, Rebecca,” was all he was inspired to say.

  Her chest rose and fell with a deep shuddering breath. “I’m—” She shook her head. “I have scars,” she whispered.

  His memory flicked to the one he’d seen on her wrist the day she’d dressed his wounds. “Let me see them.”

  She shrunk back, folding her arms across her chest. “Can we put out the lantern?”

  “Later. I
f you still want to.” He caught her hand and drew her closer, so that she was back up on her knees. “But I have a couple of scars I want to show you first.”

  Her brows drew together in suspicion, but her gaze dutifully followed his hands as he gingerly pushed the bulky denim down to his thighs. She must’ve noticed the effort it took him, what with his ribs starting to ache, and she finished the job for him.

  She shoved the jeans aside, and then stared at his dark brown boxers. Thank God he’d done laundry last week or they could’ve been the ones with pink hearts he’d been given as a joke last Valentine’s Day.

  Tentatively she fingered the finely spun fabric, and then looked up at him in awe. “What is this?”

  “Not silk, but something like it,” he said, realizing that she’d never seen anything like boxers before. That didn’t appease him much. Hell, he had a hard-on the size of Oklahoma, and she was more interested in the material? Granted, the way he was sitting, most of his arousal was disguised. But still. “This is what I wanted to show you.” He pulled the elastic waist down enough to expose the thick long scar across his lower hip.

  Her eyes widened. “How did that happen?”

  “Youth and arrogance. Found out the hard way that being able to climb on the back of a bull doesn’t make you a bullrider.”

  He slipped the boxers all the way down, and tossed them on the floor. His thick hard cock sprung up, and he was immensely satisfied to hear her startled gasp. “This one here is from a bullet,” he continued, pointing to the round scar located on his upper thigh. “I’d love to tell you I earned it in the line of duty but the sorry truth is, when I was seventeen, a friend and I were—”

  She wasn’t listening, only staring openmouthed at his fully aroused cock. After a moment, she pulled herself out of her preoccupation and looked up at him, her expression dazed.

  Jake grinned. “That’s my point, sweetheart,” he said, slipping the dress from her other shoulder, and sliding it down to bare both her sweet round breasts. “I won’t be paying any attention to your scars either.”

  14

  REBECCA TRIED NOT TO SHAKE as Jake lowered his head and kissed the tops of her breasts. With her neckline and sleeves pulled down, her arms trapped against her body, so much of herself bared, she would have panicked facing any other man. But not Jake. Never Jake. He was strong yet gentle, tough yet kind, handsome and smart, too. He was like no other man she’d ever known.

  “I want to take this dress off you,” he whispered, shoving back her hair so that he could kiss the side of her neck, using his lips, his tongue and taking soft nips with his teeth.

  She’d never been kissed there before, not like that, and she very much liked it. Closing her eyes, her heart beating faster, her breath quickening, she let her head fall back and savored the different sensations.

  “Okay, Rebecca?”

  She couldn’t recall the question, but she nodded her agreement. How could she refuse anything Jake asked of her?

  “Come here.”

  She opened her eyes, and he was smiling at her, his face still smooth from his shave, a thick lock of dark wavy hair falling across his forehead.

  He leaned over and took her by the elbows. “Come sit here with me.”

  After untangling her skirt from her legs, she let him help her to her feet. But he stopped her from sitting, instead, looping his arms around her middle and bringing her breasts to his mouth. She watched as he touched the tip of his tongue to her nipple, circling it and then drawing the tight bud into his mouth, and suckling her like a hungry child.

  She felt her body grow warm all the way down to her toes, and she clutched his shoulders. His hot moist mouth on her skin made crazy things go on in her head, made her grow wet between her thighs. It took her a minute to notice that he was unfastening the row of tiny buttons down the front of Trixie’s dress.

  Rebecca tensed. Bird Song had treated the scars on her back and arms with salve, and they weren’t so harsh as they had been five years ago, but would Jake still think her beautiful once he laid eyes on them? Then she thought about Jake’s scars and what he’d said about not noticing them, and she almost burst out laughing.

  “These buttons are a challenge for my big clumsy fingers,” he said, frustration in his face as he looked up at her. “Help me.”

  She heard a man’s voice just outside the door, and abruptly turned her head, worried someone was about to barge in. Then she heard Lola’s throaty laughter, and then their voices fading toward her room at the end of the balcony.

  “We didn’t lock the door.” Jake kissed her briefly and then got up to make sure the door was bolted.

  Even his back and buttocks were nicely muscled, and she found herself plucking feverishly at the buttons securing her cuffs. By the time he’d returned to help her, she secretly acknowledged he was right. She hadn’t noticed either of his scars. Her problem was trying not to stare at his manhood, so long and thick, the crown already glistening with moisture.

  He was right about his fingers, too. They were big and clumsy and the more he fumbled with the tiny buttons, the harder it was for her not to laugh.

  “I have never seen so damn many buttons on one piece of clothing,” he grumbled. “Good grief. Just when I think I’ve gotten to the last one…”

  “Yes, I much prefer a deerskin dress.” The words were out of her mouth before she could call them back. Sorry she’d served him a reminder, she bit down hard on her lip, waiting for his reaction. He’d been kind so far, but he wouldn’t want her past rubbed in his face.

  Jake smiled. “I’d kind of like to see you in one of those.”

  “Truly?” A tight little lump rose in her throat.

  “Sure.” He teased her nipple with his thumb and forefinger, and she arched her back, warming with his touch. “Plus, with a deerskin dress, I could get you naked quicker.” He put his mouth where his fingers had been, and rolled his tongue over the tight nub.

  She felt the last button loosen, unaware of how he’d accomplished the feat. The dress slipped down to her hips, and then he slid it past her thighs to the floor, until all she wore was hastily sewn beige muslin pantalets. He loosened the drawstring waist, and then they too were gone.

  Jake leaned back to look at her, his eyes hooded, his nostrils flaring slightly. Then his gaze drew to her right wrist where the scar from the tough buffalo hide bindings hadn’t faded as well as on her other wrist. He picked up her hand and gently pressed a kiss to the ruined flesh. “I’m sorry you suffered,” he murmured against her skin. “I wish I could take it all away, erase the horror.”

  “The braves tied me to the horse when they first caught me. I made it worse by struggling,” she said, self-consciously touching her wrist, refusing to ruin this moment by thinking about that horrible night.

  He kissed the spot again, and then picked up her other wrist and kissed that scar, as well. “I feel so damn helpless. And angry. And—”

  “No,” she whispered, pulling her hand out of his grasp and placing a finger to his lips. “No. It’s done.”

  His eyes darkened to the color of midnight. “You’re right.”

  He made sure the bed was clear, the lumps smoothed away and then he laid her back with such gentleness she shivered in his arms. He asked if she were cold, and only then did she notice the chill in the air, but she shook her head because with his warm body pressed to hers she felt nothing but the strong beat of his heart against her breast, and the heat of his arousal heavy on her belly.

  He moved to lie beside her, cupping her breast, laved it gently and then flattened his palm over her belly. She stayed still, enjoying his touch, waiting for him to move his hand lower, but mostly she wanted very much to touch him. Would he object? Would he welcome her advance?

  “You’re tense,” he whispered. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No, I just—” She couldn’t say it.

  The pressure of his hand eased. “Tell me, Rebecca.”

  “I want to touch you, too,”
she said softly, feeling the heat of embarrassment surge up her chest and into her face.

  “Ah, good.” He rolled onto his back. “I’m all yours. Any way you want.”

  She heard the amusement in his voice and tried to ignore it. The only man she’d ever been with was her husband, and he’d always been quick to get the job finished. At first, she’d been grateful. Later, as acceptance grew, so had her curiosity.

  Cautiously she splayed her fingers across Jake’s chest, and stared down at his hard shaft. She wanted to touch him there, find out if it was as hard as it looked. Swallowing, she slid a peek at his face, and found him watching her. “Don’t do that.”

  One side of his mouth went up. “What?”

  “I can’t do anything if you watch.”

  “Okay, I won’t.” His shoulders came off the mattress, and he latched his lips onto her nipple.

  She jerked in surprise, saw his smile, and her heart fluttered. He was a most baffling man. She stared down again at his manhood, moist and pulsing. With her finger, she lightly touched the tip. It leaped at her, and she quickly withdrew her hand.

  Jake moaned. “Don’t stop there.”

  She smiled, and traced a blue vein down to the base. His manhood again leaped at her touch. This time she didn’t pull away. She wrapped her fingers around him, amazed at the amount of heat coming from his shaft. His mouth moved from her breast, and he lay back down, his eyes closed. She tentatively slid her hand up and then back down, something she had seen Sleeping Fox do to himself by the river one summer day.

  When Jake moved his hips to match the rhythm of her hand, she knew she was doing it right. But then she might have squeezed too hard because he abruptly stilled her hand.

  She swallowed back a lump of fear. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “No way.” He gave a shaky laugh and raised himself on one elbow.