by Andre, Bella
The tight, clawing bands of pain around her heart loosened and broke away; her muscles and sinews relaxed as if she'd shed a heavy coat of armor.
How long had it been since she'd known the healing comfort of simply being held by another person? Of a heartbeat pulsing the cadence of life against her chest? Of skin and hair beneath her fingers, rich and warm and brimming with life? Of his breath mingling with hers until she didn't know where he ended and she began?
She wanted to stay right there forever, in the comfort of his arms, with his lips merged with hers.
He deepened the kiss, his mouth firm on hers, and she tightened her arms around him, loving the rough, hard textures of him, the solid, unyielding strength. Her movement brought her closer to him, and Andie could feel his heat through the thin material of her nightgown.
Suddenly the kiss took on another, more primitive meaning. She held her breath as her breasts ached with a deep, ancient need.
An instant before she would have rubbed against him, she realized what was happening. She froze, horrified at herself, at her own helpless response, at the pulsing arousal that seemed to surge out of nowhere like a flash flood violently pounding through a desert arroyo.
She inched back from him, pulling her mouth away, disentangling her arms from around his neck.
What on earth was she thinking? She closed her eyes and took a shallow, shuddering breath, struggling for control. And where had all these glittering, alive sensations come from?
When she opened her eyes, she found his face inches away, his gaze fierce and unwavering. Time seemed to pause, shimmering between them, then he reached for her, engulfing her in the tight haven of his arms.
There was little of gentleness this time. His mouth was hot and turbulent on hers. Urgent, demanding. Arousing.
She should be protesting this, she thought. Should be putting up some token resistance, about how she wasn't the sort of woman who rolled in the grass with a man who'd never acted as if he wanted anything more from her than an odd, stilted friendship. But he weaved such magic with his mouth and his hands, promised such healing, such nurturing, she could do nothing but meet him kiss for kiss, taste for taste.
He lowered her onto the cool grass, his mouth fused with hers, his hands buried in her hair. She felt the length of him against her, felt his hardness, such a heady, intoxicating contrast to her own curves.
He kissed her for what felt like forever—and yet not nearly long enough—until she was panting with need.
When he finally lifted a hand and slid it to one aching breast, when he cupped her in his big, hard hand, Andie thought she would burn away into cinders.
She arched against him, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, he worked free the fastenings of her gown. The quiet rasp of each button sliding through the buttonhole, the feel of his rough fingers brushing her skin, sent tremors through her. Finally he undid the last one.
He eased himself away from her, his face expressionless as he studied her in the moonlight. For a moment—an awful, heart-stopping instant—Andie was terrified he would jerk away again, as he had that night in his kitchen.
I don't want you.
She braced herself for it and held her breath. I don't want you.
"You're beautiful," he said, his voice husky, aroused. "So damn beautiful, Andie. I can't even think straight when I'm around you."
Weak with relief as his low words strummed through her, she exhaled on a shaky sigh.
He had been lying that night. With a calm assurance, she knew it, that he had been fighting this wild heat between them as fiercely as she had been. It seemed so pointless now, like two people trying to hold back the stars or hide the sun. Their coming together was inevitable. It had been since that night in his kitchen.
She smiled gently as he watched her through those uncanny wolf eyes. "You're not so bad yourself, Sheriff," she whispered.
He groaned and pulled her up to him, but she wedged her hands between them to unbutton his shirt. With trembling fingers, she drew it off his shoulders and nearly moaned at the glowing heat of his bare skin. She could feel his heart race, and she closed her eyes as she lay her hand flat against his hard chest, feeling his life's blood pulsing, strong and swift, beneath the light matting of hair.
She spread her fingers out to explore him and felt him stiffen just as her little finger encountered something that didn't quite feel right. Lowering her head for a closer look, she could barely make out through the dark the angry evidence of his recent wound, a nickel-sized scar just beneath the ridge of his collarbone. Her gaze flew to his, then down again to the scar.
"Oh, Will," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." Then gently, gently, she pressed her lips there, wishing she could kiss away the pain she knew still bothered him.
He moaned, and she felt it rumble beneath her mouth, then he pulled her up, burying his fingers in her hair, and meshed his mouth with hers. The movement pressed her bare skin to his, and this time she rubbed against him as his tongue licked and teased at her lips until she opened for him.
In one smooth motion, he slid off her nightgown. Mindful of her own scars that crisscrossed her abdomen, she was enormously grateful for the concealing darkness.
"No fair, Sheriff," she whispered against his mouth. "You're still half-dressed."
"It's only a matter of time, sweetheart. Trust me," he whispered back, and she gave a shaky laugh that ended in a low, gasping moan as he lowered his head to kiss her
She clasped his back, skimming her hands over his skin until she found a scar to match the one on the front that felt angry and puckered. She would have kissed that one, too, but she couldn't reach it, so she contented herself with gliding her mouth against his shoulder, tasting the saltiness of his skin, inhaling the cedar-and-pine scent of him.
He touched her and she felt as if she were caught up in a wild wind, twirling amid the treetops like a feather on a current of air. Faster, faster the wind tossed her. Higher, higher, until she cried his name as she touched the sun in a blinding flash of light. Slowly, she fluttered back to the ground to find he'd removed his jeans and was waiting, his face dark with need.
She couldn't quite figure our why, until her gaze met his. He was waiting for her to grant him permission to give them both the complete intimacy their bodies craved.
After what he had just given her—after the magical, wondrous world he'd just shown her—did he really think she would want to deny him anything? She smiled and drew his mouth to hers, answering his wordless plea with one of her own.
"Are you sure?" Will asked gruffly, his blood thick and heavy in his veins. He would have died if she'd said no. As it was, he felt as if he were teetering on the precipice of control.
Through the dark he thought he saw her nod her head. It was all the answer he needed. At the feel of her, all his careful restraint sizzled away, leaving only the pulsing urgency that thrummed through him.
He wanted to move slowly, to make it satisfying for her. He tried. Damn if he didn't try. But all he could focus on was the way she felt so good against him, around him, tight and slick and welcoming. The way her body arched under him. The way her mouth parted a little more with each kiss.
Beyond conscious thought, he grasped her hands in his and lowered his mouth to catch her sweet little gasps of arousal. She kissed him back, pressing her mouth against his again and again, and he completely lost any hold on his sanity.
With one last, tremendous surge, he felt the world explode, felt her muscles contract around him as he found release.
When he could think again, he realized his face was buried in her hair, the dark curls surrounding him with the lavender-and-vanilla scent that clung to her. For a moment he had an odd feeling, one he struggled to recognize. Finally it came to him. Peace. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation. For the first time in three years, he felt at peace, cleansed by the fire of her arms.
But at what cost? He lifted his head and saw in the moonlight her eyes were tightly closed, her lashes
fanning her cheeks. Guilt rushed through him and he rolled off her, staring up at the stars that dotted the sky like tiny pinpricks in black paper.
What kind of animal was he to attack her when she was in such emotional agony? And outside in the grass, for pete’s sake.
Just when he thought he couldn't stoop any lower in life, he'd managed to dig an even deeper hole for himself. How could he possibly face her now, knowing he'd taken advantage of her pain, of her soft vulnerability, to appease his aching hunger for her.
He sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face, not daring to look at her. He was very much afraid if he saw her now, limned in moonlight like a beautiful alabaster goddess, nothing would stop him from taking her again.
"I'm sorry, Andie," he muttered. "I lost control. It's been... a long time for me."
"Don't you dare apologize to me, Will Tanner." He winced at the fury in her voice. She had every right to despise him.
But why did it bother him so much that the woman he'd been trying to avoid for a month now likely wouldn't want to have a thing to do with him? It's what he wanted, wasn't it?
"That's the only thing I can say. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
Even as he spoke the words, Will felt a wrenching sense of loss. In her arms, he'd felt alive, his senses and his emotions humming with energy for the first time in three years. And now she hated him.
"I should never have taken advantage of you, of your pain," he said gruffly, trying to find his jeans in the shadows while self-contempt broiled inside him.
To his shock her low laugh rippled through the night, and he jerked his gaze from the ground to her face.
"Who took advantage of whom here, Will Tanner?" Her smile was seductive and sweet at the same time. "I wanted you. Wanted that. Good grief, I have since the day you moved in. You, with that stubborn streak as big as the Wind Rivers and your surly get-out-of-my-face attitude. Don't you dare apologize."
He stared. "Are you sure? I didn't give you much time to make up your mind back there."
"Will, I'm sure. I have absolutely no regrets. Except that we didn't do it sooner."
She shivered suddenly, and he realized the air had reached the dew point. The grass beneath his feet was moist and cool, and a chill wind was sweeping down from Lone Eagle Peak.
He spied her nightgown, a pool of white against the darker grass, and he reached for it. She felt fragile in his arms again as he slid the nightgown over her body.
"You're cold. You'd better go on inside."
"Not unless you're coming with me," she said.
Doubts and misgivings and lingering regret battled inside him, but one look at her there in the moonlight swept them all away. He wanted that peace again. Just one more time. Was that too much to ask?
"A whole herd of Jace's mean old range cows couldn't keep me away," he vowed, and followed her into the house.
***
Frowning in frustration, Andie reached again underneath a vine for a particularly stubborn acorn squash. No matter how hard she pulled it, the blasted thing didn't want to budge. She had it in her hand, she could move it an inch or two either way, but she couldn't pluck it free of the tangled growth.
"Come on out, buster, or I'll leave you in there to rot," she muttered. Finally she tried sheer muscle and, grunting with effort, tugged on the thing. With one last tremendous heave she yanked it free and ended up on her backside in the dirt.
Score one for the garden, she thought, chuckling despite her awkward position.
Any other Sunday morning she would be relishing this quiet time, one of the only days she didn't have to hurry through her gardening to make it to the preschool. Today, though, try as she might, the solace she usually found here among her plants was as elusive as that darned squash. Her thoughts were completely consumed with the man currently sprawled in her bed.
Oh, mercy. She had a man sprawled in her bed.
Andie slid off her work gloves and rubbed a hand through her hair. Not just any man, either. Oh no, when she decided to break her five years of celibacy, she did it with a vengeance. With the blankets tucked around his hips and his brown hair mussed, Will had been so appealing she practically had to use a crowbar to get herself out of bed. But she needed this space, this distance, to come to terms with what had happened between them.
She glanced at the grass near her garden bench. She could find no trace of their wild passion there, but she didn't need any physical evidence. It was forever etched in her mind, from his first healing kiss of comfort to the fiery heat that had followed it. And the long hours of the night they'd spent entangled in each other's arms in the soft comfort of her bed.
Her cheeks burned as she remembered coming to life with Will. She'd been married three years, and she'd never once known making love could be so... shattering.
How could she not have known? How could she have reached the age of thirty-two without any clue she could burn like that? Or that she had the ability with her touch to make someone else catch fire as Will had?
She heard again the echo of his voice, rough with passion, as he groaned out her name. Felt again the rasp of his stubbled cheeks against her neck, against her breasts. Tasted again the salty sweetness of his skin as she'd explored him.
"Good morning."
Andie jerked around, nearly tumbling the bushel basket brimming with vegetables. Will, his shoulder propped against the edge of the barn, stood watching her. The man moved like a blasted ghost. How long had he been there? She flushed. Had he seen her yelling at her vegetables and then her ignominious trip to the ground?
"Good morning," she replied, looking away.
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"I figured you needed your rest," she said, though that was only part of the truth. She wasn't quite sure how to deal with him this morning. Slipping out of bed and escaping to her garden had seemed the prudent course.
"I did need my rest," he said. "It's the first decent night's sleep I've had in a long time. Thank you."
He watched her out of those silver-gray eyes, and she busied herself with the vegetables.
"I called the hospital while you were sleeping," she said. "Both mama and baby are doing fine after a restful night. I told her maybe we could all come out later this afternoon. I hope that's okay with you."
"You don't have to do that. I know it's hard for you. The baby and all. Don't put yourself through more than you can handle."
She smiled at his concern, warmed in ways she couldn't even begin to count.
"I'm okay, Will. Honest. Yesterday was a little overwhelming, but I feel much better now."
He looked unconvinced. "What about the rest of it? About us?"
She paused, then spoke truthfully. "I'm okay with that too. How about you?"
"I don't know. The memory's dimming."
The man grinned. He actually grinned! Andie stared at him, stunned by this side of him, this warm and playful man who must have been hiding inside the gruff and stoic soldier.
She cleared her throat and stepped forward, slipping her arms around him. "Maybe I could refresh it for you."
He grinned again, and the sunlight glinted off the auburn highlights in his hair. "What a great idea."
Chapter 8
"Nervous?" Will asked Andie when they were nearly to Jackson and the hospital later that afternoon.
"A little," she admitted.
He wanted to reach across the Jeep and grip her hand, to offer her whatever comfort he could. But he didn't dare. Not with Emily watching them so carefully from the backseat, as she'd been doing since they picked her up from the Lazy Jake an hour earlier.
"I'll be there with you," he said in an undertone. "Don't know if that helps any, but you could pinch me if you start feeling down."
She laughed and lightly pinched the skin of his forearm. "I feel much better now. Thanks."
Despite her studied casualness, he couldn't help but wonder how she was really handling the emotional turmoil of the new baby. He knew it couldn
't be easy on her, not after she'd lost three children of her own. He just didn't believe she was as calm as she seemed.
Still, she had seemed fine that morning when she'd again stirred to life in his embrace. A hell of a lot better than fine. Heavenly. She had been soft and responsive, her body flushed with passion and little cries of ecstasy filling her bedroom as he entered her, as he drowned in her arms.
The sound of her pleasure echoed in his mind, and Will felt his blood churn through him, felt his pulse kick up a notch just from remembering it. She'd been all heat and fire in his arms, responsive and arousing.
He blew out a breath and forced the desire away by concentrating on the serpentine two-lane road to Jackson.
They'd left much later than he'd planned, simply because he hadn't possessed the strength to drag himself out of her arms. He'd found a sweet haven there, one he was loathe to leave.
When he was with her, with her surrounding him, engulfing him, nothing else existed. Not the past, not the future. Just Andie, with her crooked smile and her gentle, giving nature and her lithe, welcoming body.
He probably would have stayed there all day if the chickens hadn't started a hungry ruckus close to noon that sent Andie, barefoot and dressed only in her robe, rushing outside in a flurry of guilt to feed them.
He chuckled, remembering it, which earned him quizzical looks from both the females in his vehicle.
"When are we gonna be there, Dad?" Emily emerged from her headphones to ask the eternal question.
"A few more minutes, Em."
She subsided back into whatever music she was listening to, and he sighed. One step forward, two steps hack. That's how he felt dealing with his daughter. He'd start making a little progress with her, then something would set her off and she would withdraw to a place he couldn't reach.
When they'd picked her up at the Lazy Jake around one, she'd stared at Andie suspiciously. "What's she doing here?" Emily had asked, her tone bordering on rudeness. "And why do I have to sit in the back?"
He'd reined in his temper. "She's coming with us to the hospital. You'll have more room back there, anyway."
