She grinned at him, grabbing a handful of his collar to haul him near and kiss him lavishly.
“Hell.” He threw back his head and surveyed the night sky. “I feel like a girl.”
She caught his jaw and led him down to gaze at her. “Trust me, a minute ago when I stood next to you, you did not feel like a girl.”
He seized her hand, crushing her bones in his intensity. “I look at you and all I do is quiver. It’s embarrassing.”
“Sort of like Jell-O, huh?”
He leaned over and bit one earlobe. “Jell-O, my ass.”
“Oh, honey, to quiver is my job. Yours is to—”
He caught her chin and held. “Mine is to fuck you until you can’t stand or speak or think of anyone but me.”
His breathy words made her shudder. She’d savor his statement all through the night. To cover how he destroyed her so, she tossed him a tremulous smile. “Now you are making me quake, Sheriff.”
Pulling back, he slapped a hand on the door. “Go home, lady, before I forget where we are and who I am.”
Chuckling, she winked at him. “I can help. We Northern gals never forget a pretty face.”
“Seven o’clock!”
“Sharp!” Laughing into the fragrant summer air, she sped away from him. Happier than she had been in ages she marveled at the wonders of the day and the delights of the fine Texas night.
Chapter Four
Willow squinted at the sun-drenched plains as she and Wade reined their horses to a stop on the craggy hilltop. They had not been out too long, but still, she was slick with sweat in the August heat wave. Thank heavens Wade had been a tyrant that morning by insisting she wear sunscreen. Now that she felt crisp as a french fry, she was glad she had followed his advice. He’d also told her to shuck her cotton dress and sandals in favor of his daughter’s clothes. Miraculously she’d fit into the long-sleeved shirt and work jeans. Even the girl’s boots slid on.
The horse, however, was not a match, no fault of Wade’s. Rosie was her name but her disposition was not.
“She’s a grump,” Willow complained as Wade caught her reins in his gloved hands and pulled Rosie toward him. He slid off his own mount, looping both sets of tethers around a tree branch. “She doesn’t like me. I tell you it’s a crying shame that a blood Comanche can’t ride a horse.”
“We can fix that,” he suggested with the devil in his green eyes.
“With practice? Oh, no.”
He chuckled. “Anything good comes of it. But for right now? Get down.” He spread his arms out to Willow and wiggled his fingers. “She needs a talkin’ to and you need a rest.”
Slinging her leg over the saddle, she slipped into his arms. Her legs gave out under her for a second. The thrill of him so close was not the only thing that made her weak. No, her wobbly knees came from sitting so long, using her thigh muscles to try to control the damn stubborn horse.
“Ouff,” she groaned as pain shot up her backside. “I’m stiff.”
She fell against him, learning that he was too. But not in the legs.
He gave her a sideways glance, humor tilting up the corners of his lips. “Lean on me.”
Every cell in her body tingled from his nearness and his awareness of their chemistry. She gave in to the euphoria—and let him wrap an arm around her waist then lead her to a large, flat rock that overlooked the valley. Hidden among tall live oaks, the rock was just the right height to sit on and god, was she grateful when Wade lowered her onto the smooth, warm surface. In Comanche lore a similar place recurred again and again. As a holy place. A meeting place. A lovers’ rendezvous. Not only did she want to learn more about this setting but she ached with sexual heat being this close to Wade.
Everything about him exhilarated her. His humor. His power. His big, bold, beefy body. His pursuit of her last night after the party and declaration that he wanted to fuck her. Could she be any more juvenile to want him inside her soon? Would she be any more reckless to hope they might have more than one romp in a nice wide bed? She had only two weeks max here in Bravado but a brief affair would suit her fine. She hadn’t had many—and no man to enjoy in almost a year.
She gazed at him in his Western shirt and formfitting jeans, handsome as sin. He walked in back of her and laid his hands on her shoulders to work out the kinks in her muscles. Closing her eyes, she swayed at the pleasure of his touch. He certainly was the epitome of her ideal sex partner. Aggressive but taking her on at a measured pace. She appreciated that he could honor her that way but hell, a girl could get weary of the foreplay when the heat in his eyes promised to scorch her and the sex she imagined seared her brain of rational thought.
“Thanks,” she murmured as Wade massaged her shoulders. “That’s terrific. Can I hire you?”
“Sure,” he said. “Here. Hold my hat…and yours.” His hands told the rest of the marvelous tale as he worked on her neck, her skull and the small of her back. He snapped the band on her ponytail, sending her hair cascading over her shoulders. “Stand up.”
She struggled to her feet and yelped when he began to knead the muscles of her ass. “That’s kind of forward, don’t you think, Sheriff?”
“If you give me a hard time, lady,” he warned as he caught her upper arms and pulled her backward to brace her against him, “I will turn you over my knee.”
“That will not be good for my poor abused butt.”
An animalistic sound of frustration came from his throat. In the next second, easy as you please, he tipped her over his lap. One of his hands, sweet heaven, lay like a heavy brand on her backside. “Be nice.”
She wiggled but he massaged her butt. His other hand lay across her shoulders and she was most definitely pinned. “You better finish this quickly.”
He sent his fingers into the very center of one cheek, drilling until she squealed. “You’ve got tight hips. When was the last time you rode a horse?”
“When I was thirteen.” She writhed but he clamped down hard on her other ass cheek. “I didn’t like it then. Not…ouch…now, either!”
“Well, you need this. Be quiet and let me work here.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“You think I haven’t ridden a horse before? Know what it’s like? How you need to be limber to stay in the saddle?”
Beneath her breath she cursed.
He whacked her fanny hard, once on each cheek.
She loved the sting. Wanted whatever he had in mind for relief. “Hey, lighten up. You are a tyrant.”
“You are a pain in my ass!”
“Ohhhh,” she seethed, never having been spanked by a man before. Trying to roll out of his lap, she didn’t succeed. “Is this the way you treat all the women you know?”
“Just you,” he said in a low croon, its seductive tone matching the way his big hand was manhandling her sore buttocks now. “You need toughening up.”
“Right. And this is the way you do it?”
“Only to the city slickers who show too much sass.”
She blew hair from her face. “You talk trash, Sheriff, sir.”
He lifted his hand for a second and seizing the moment, she rolled to the ground.
Triumphant, she grinned up at him.
But he grabbed for her, laughing and landing right on top of her, forcing all the air out of her as if she were a balloon. With his massive weight burrowing her into the ground, his fingers bracketing her wrists and his eyes dancing in glee, he examined her at his leisure. With every ounce of her logical brain she ordered her body not to move. But she must have had faulty wiring because she knew all too soon and all too well that undulating beneath him was the exact way to entice him.
He brushed his lips against hers then nuzzled his way to her ear. There, as he had yesterday, he bit her lobe and rocked his groin into her very drenched crotch. She shivered in expectation.
“I like your ears.”
I like your erection. The temptation to press against him zinged through her like a dark tornado. Need
swept through her like a fast and furious storm. Fused to him, she groaned. Every inch of her yearned to crawl inside him, become part of him and the violence of her need paralyzed her.
He paused, his velvet voice a breath’s caress on her nape. “Do you not like to kiss?”
“Maybe I came out here for something more thrilling.” Now I’ve done it. Bared my soul.
“Well, then.” He sent his hot, wet tongue down the long line of her throat from behind her ear to the hollow of her clavicle. “There is only one thing more thrilling than kissing.”
You bet there is. She wrapped her legs around his cock nestling in the hollow of her mound. She rocked against him, questioning if it was wise to lead him on here in the middle of nowhere, without a bed in sight. Nothing except that flat rock.
He lifted his head, zeroing in on her eyes and her lips. He looked curious, hesitant. “You have a man tucked away where you don’t tell anyone about him?”
She blinked, surprised. “Why would you ask that?”
“It was my understanding that you told Cara and Sam you were not attached. True or not?”
“I did.”
“So then,” he said as his huge body melted all around her, “you stop and start with me? Why? You got a thing against kissing in general? Or what’s zinging between you and me is just…what? My imagination?”
She stuck out her chin. Looking brave might be her only saving grace. She didn’t do lots of affairs and her hook-ups had been infrequent even if the majority of them had been roaring hot. “I don’t go around kissing just anyone.”
“Likewise.”
She rolled her eyes. “I will not be a notch on your belt.”
“I don’t have notches.”
“Bull.”
“I have standards.”
Like what?
“For one thing,” he said as if he had heard her silent question, “I prefer a good-looking woman.” He stroked the side of her neck with featherlight strokes of his fingertips. “You are stunning.”
Seduced by his touch she curled into his caress. But she couldn’t afford to believe his words without testing him about the one thing that always hung her up. Her size. “I am also very tall.”
“So am I.”
She shook her head at him. “And big.”
He put one hand to the side of one breast and pressed ever so gently. Sparks flew through her bloodstream. “Put together in all the right places, in all the right ways.”
Sweet words. Were they honest? “You do not need to be gallant.”
“You don’t like being tall or well-endowed, is that it?”
She stared at him. “I like who I am. But I know that a lot of men want a cover girl on their arm.”
“Some men may want a bag of bones in their bed.”
And you? If she climbed onto a mattress with him she didn’t want to be self-conscious or worrying about what he thought or what he’d say after they parted. “Size 4 works for a lot of guys.”
“Not if he wants a real woman in his bed. Not if he wants the honest beauty who lives there.” He touched a fingertip to her forehead, her temple and her throat. Then he pressed his lips to the hollow there. “Ever go to bed with a skinny man?”
“No.” Shocked, she also wanted to laugh.
“Wise. Wiser than me.”
“Really? You’ve gone to bed with a skinny man?”
He pinched her hip but his kisses were tiny and warm, angel’s breaths. “I couldn’t have any fun.”
Willow gulped, her pussy dripping sweet juices all over her panties. “No?”
He caressed her shoulder, her arm and pushed against the swell of her breast. The pressure made her nipple rub against his chest and the friction spiked her temperature. “I feared if I rolled over I’d crush her.”
Willow hooted.
“See?” He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. “You can laugh about this.”
“That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his brows high, his tone too innocent for words. “What do you want to do?”
Kiss you. Have you. For endless hours in a bed on cool, soft sheets.
He thumbed her nipple, inspiring her to rub her groin against the bulge of his. “I want all your numbers.”
“Want my numbers?” she asked, stupid and needy, as her body boiled with creamy need.
“Forty.” He squeezed her breast and she mewled. “Twenty-eight.” He cupped her waist and she gasped. “One hundred and sixty pounds. All over me.” He kissed her forehead and she chuckled. “What? You thought I was going to be less than a gentleman, right?”
“I would have bet on it, yes.”
“And held you here?” he said, his voice dangerously low and thrilling as he drove his arm beneath her and crushed her lower body and her pulsing, creamy mound against his nice big package. “Want to kiss me now?”
“Un-uh.”
“You lie.”
“I do.”
“When then?”
“When we know each other better.”
“And when will that be?” he asked, his mouth curling up in a half-smile.
She lifted her shoulders. “Tomorrow? We could go to the movies.”
“We could see one at my place.”
“Kind of too convenient, isn’t it?”
“You have to come sometime to look at all the family documents. Might as well come tomorrow. Unless…” He grinned. “You’d like to come sooner?”
His implication was delicious and irresistible. “I’ll do that.”
“Now?” He arched both brows, his face bright with hope.
The man’s charm was criminal. “No. Tomorrow. One o’clock?”
He sighed. “One it is and I’ll grill some steaks for dinner.”
“Oh, you don’t have to make a fuss.”
“Will you stop that?”
“What?”
“Being so humble.”
“It’s who I am.”
“I know, but with me you can be proud.” He nibbled at her lips. “And wild.”
Her heart blossomed in her chest. He saw this need in her?
“You’re sweet too. I like the combination. I want to see all those qualities all the time. Tomorrow I want to cook you dinner. I want to watch a movie with you. I want to take you to my king-size bed and show you a good time. Anything else I can add?”
You naked. She licked her lips, her gaze eating him up.
“Aw, hell. That does it,” he groaned, struggling to stand.
“What?”
“The end of my chivalry. Get up.” He pulled her to her feet then dusted her off, shirt and jeans, even reaching around to brush off her ass. He faced her and smiled, an evil glint in his eyes declaring they weren’t done quite yet with his seduction. “All pretty again. And we’re back to business. Know what this place is?”
She was assured of him now. Comfortable. Open. “Where you take all the girls to try to get in their panties?”
“Har, har.” He brushed off dirt from her shoulders and down the sleeves of her shirt. “This is Rock of the Bull. The boundary of one of the lands of the Antelope tribe. In other words—”
“It’s the place where Bull Elk killed one of his own men to protect Fancy?” Blade had written about it in his diary. An old Comanche fable spoke of a rock atop a hill where a True Man had once killed one of his own to save his new wife from the other man’s rape. Willow’s heart sang. “This really exists?”
“It does.” He watched her mouth, his dreamy gaze growing stormy with desire, her mind telling her she mustn’t notice, mustn’t want to tear his clothes off here. “And yes, this is where Bull Elk paused on his journey north with his captive white woman.”
She clasped her hands together, ecstatic, and so suddenly overcome with joy that she hugged him.
He clamped his arms around her as if he had just clapped her in a vise. Her legs wedged between his, her mound against his bulging thighs, her cunt pulsing, demanding this m
arvelous hunk of man come inside her.
“Oh, Wade. I didn’t think…I wasn’t sure…” Any man like you existed.
“What, that this place exists? Of course it does. It’s where he first embraced her.”
“And kissed her,” she said as if she were sleepwalking in a different time, aware of this man’s strength, this man’s arms, this man’s lips coming closer to hers and—
“Oh, baby. Do not move.”
“What?” she asked, his lush lips more enticing by the second.
“Listen to me now,” he said in a low, stern voice. His eyes became stones. “You will just stand there like a good girl. And let me do this.”
Fear, bright-red and hot, washed through her veins. But she stared at him and—
He grabbed her by the nape with one hand while the other whisked up high and hard. He flung something away, grunted. “Got him. Hold. Still.”
Oh shit. She clamped her eyes shut.
He grabbed at something on the crown of her head. “Damn!”
She winced.
“And again,” he growled as he sent his fingers through the hair over her left ear.
“Turn around.” He frowned and spun her, ripping her shirt out of her waistband. “Take this off!”
“What? Why?”
“Scorpions.”
She froze. “Scor—” She scrambled to work the buttons on her shirt. Damn, damn, damn. She stripped. “See anything?”
She felt his fingertips skim her flesh. Goose bumps rose. She shivered.
“No more.” He spun her around and hauled her close. “Got ’em.” He petted her back and made consoling little noises like those he would to comfort a hurt child. “Got ’em.”
“You’re sure?”
“You’re good, darlin’. I never should have let you roll in the dirt.”
“Oh, Wade!” She threw her arms around him. He cradled her close, like a treasure. “I hate bugs. Bees. Ants. Wasps. I can’t—”
“Hey, hey, look at me.” He looked her over once again, his hands to her shoulders as he smiled. “All clear now.”
“Am I? I feel all creepy-crawly.” She wiggled her arms and head.
“A normal reaction.”
“Is it?” She twisted one way and the other. He ran his open palms down her back. “I might have—did they bite me?”
Bind Me Close: 3 (Knights in Black Leather) Page 6
