Sweet Wind, Wild Wind

by Elizabeth Lowell

  The whispered, barely audible words sent an answering tremor through Lara. Her arms tightened, and she held Carson very hard for a few moments. Then she looked up at him. The intensity of his amber eyes made her breath shorten. She wanted him to kiss her but knew that he wouldn’t, even though it was obvious he wanted to very much. He had been careful to keep the promise he had given to her a few weeks before. He had done nothing to make her afraid. Nor would he do anything now. If she wanted to be kissed, it was up to her to take the initiative.

  “Can I…kiss you?” Lara asked. Her voice was hesitant, and her eyes mirrored her own inner conflict. She wanted the kiss, yet even as she leaned toward him, her memories warned her of danger.

  “I’d like that,” Carson said, looking at her mouth, his voice gritty. Again Lara felt the small shiver of response take Carson’s strong body. And again he did no more than tighten his hold on her for an instant. That reassured her. As much as she wanted to be in his arms, to know again the pleasure of his touch, the memory of what had happened four years before still had the power to make her want to turn and flee.

  Carson could sense Lara’s uncertainty. Despite the hunger that sent tiny, uncontrollable tremors through him, he didn’t bend down and take the lips that trembled very slightly as Lara looked up into his eyes. She knew that he wanted her. Standing as close as they were, she could feel the proof of his desire. So he waited for her to come to him, knowing that she would feel more secure that way, knowing that she had to want him enough to overcome her fear.

  Lara stood on tiptoe and kissed the corner of Carson’s cleanly shaped mouth, then pressed her lips against his. She had meant to feel only briefly the firmness and warmth of his lips and then to retreat as gently as she had advanced. But the silky texture of his mustache and the smoothness of his mouth sent sweet memories rippling through her. Some small corner of her mind recognized that Carson was right; she should try to remember the good as well as the bad. And it had been very good to open her lips beneath his, to taste and feel his mouth consuming her softly.

  Hesitantly Lara’s hands crept up the front of Carson’s shirt. Her lips brushed over his once, twice, and then her arms came around his neck, allowing her to lean against him. Instantly his arms shifted, supporting her as he gathered her even closer to his body. She opened her mouth slightly and kissed him again, expecting him to take her mouth with a single hot stroke of his tongue.

  When that didn’t happen, Lara pulled back and looked up at Carson. His eyes were closed. The taut, intense look of concentration on his face left no doubt that he was enjoying the soft kisses. Reassured, Lara kissed him again, nuzzling against his firm lips, hoping that they would open in response to her caress. But they didn’t. Puzzled, frustrated, Lara wondered how to get Carson to open his mouth for her. She had had no experience in being the leader in this kind of sensual play. It had taken her a long time even to accept a date after Carson had rejected her, and the men she had dated had been more than willing to be the aggressors. In the end that was what had made Lara retreat; the men were demanding the very thing that she had once offered Carson. She simply hadn’t wanted any of the men enough to take the emotional and physical risk of offering herself again. As a result she was no more experienced in lovemaking now than she had been four years ago. She wanted to increase the intimacy of the kiss she was sharing with Carson, but she didn’t know quite how to go about it.

  Lara kissed Carson again, pressing harder against his mouth. That was more satisfying because she could almost taste him, but it was stili much less than she wanted. Again she pulled back, looking at his mouth as though it were a puzzle she was trying to solve. When she finally glanced up, he was studying her own mouth with equal intensity.

  “Carson?”

  A questioning kind of purr was her answer.

  “Why won’t you – “ Abruptly Lara’s courage deserted her. Putting what she wanted into words suddenly seemed more intimate than any kiss she could imagine. She was about to abandon the whole idea when she shifted her weight and felt the blunt, hard ridge of Carson’s sex pressing against her torso. The certainty that he wanted her gave her the nerve to try again. After all, he had already taken the risk for her, he had made her the gift of himself two weeks ago when they had been at Long Pool. Now it was up to her to find out how to unwrap that gift. “Why won’t you open your mouth for me?” she asked in a rush.

  “Do you want me to?” Carson asked, smiling a slow kind of smile.

  “Yes,” she said huskily, “but I don’t know how to make you.” She heard the last two words and winced. “I don’t mean ‘make you,’ exactly,” she muttered. “That sounds awful. I mean I want you to want to – “ She stopped again, realizing that she already had hard physical proof of his wanting her. “I mean, I don’t know how to tell you I want you to open your mouth without just coming right out and saying it,” she admitted in a rush, flushing. She buried her hot face against his shirt. “Oh, Carson, I don’t know what to do,” she said miserably. “All I really know about kissing is what I learned from you four years ago.”

  Carson’s expression changed, surprise replacing passion for an instant. Somehow he had assumed that, even if Lara hadn’t given herself completely to a man during the past four years, she had at least gone in for the kind of heavy petting mat made the question of virginity a technicality rather than a real issue of inexperience. The realization that he had hurt Lara so badly that he had all but crushed the expression of her sensual nature shocked him. She had meant what she said when she had cried I love you. He hadn’t believed in love then. He still didn’t – not in the same way she did. But he was learning just how deep Lara’s feelings ran, and just how badly she could be wounded. It made him want to give her a pleasure as deep as her capacity to feel emotion.

  Carson gathered Lara closer, kissing the top of her head. “There’s nothing wrong with telling me what you want,” he said, the words soft and gentle. “In fact,” he murmured, moving just a little against Lara, teasing and easing his hungry body with the same motion of his hips,

  “it’s sexy as hell to hear you say that you want my mouth. But if talking makes you feel shy, just run your tongue over my lips.” He laughed softly, deep in his chest. “I can guarantee that I’ll get the message. I’ll even make you a deal. Whatever way you touch me, that particular kind of touching will belong to both of us. But until you do it first, I won’t do it at all. Okay?”

  Lara looked up, saw gentle amusement, anticipation and hunger in Carson’s eyes. She smiled. “Okay.”

  She went up on tiptoe again, nuzzling against his lips, enjoying the firm feel of his mouth. Slowly her lips parted and her tongue hesitantly brushed the full curve of his lower lip before circling to trace the deeply indented peaks of his upper lip. She felt the shiver of Carson’s response and heard the thick, stifled sound of his groan. His mouth opened, and his tongue repeated her caress exactly, leaving an exciting trail of warmth and moisture around her lips. Breath rushed out of Lara’s mouth in a sigh that sounded like Carson’s name. The tips of their tongues met, retreated and touched again. It wasn’t enough. She wanted her lips to be pressed hard against his and her mouth to be fully joined with him while his tongue stroked hers. It had been that way once. She remembered it vividly. He would kiss her like that again if she could just show him what she wanted. Lara’s fingers slid up into Carson’s thick hair, sending his hat tumbling to the ground not far from where hers already lay. The pressure of her fingers brought his head down to hers. She tilted her head a little, then a little more, trying to find the angle that would allow the greatest contact with his lips. Even after their mouths were fully joined, she continued moving her head slowly, rocking back and forth, remembering that he had once kissed her that way and she had felt a wave of sensation clear to the soles of her feet Carson made a thick, inarticulate sound of pleasure as he felt Lara’s warm breath sigh into his mouth. In an agony of suspense, he waited until La
ra’s tongue rubbed over his, silently telling him what she wanted him to do to her. His arms flexed as he straightened, lifting her off the ground until her face was level with his. He teased her tongue slowly, luring her deeper and deeper into his mouth until the sensual trap was sprung and he could fill her mouth in return.

  The shiver of Lara’s response set fire to Carson. It was all he could do not to carry her down into the tall grass and join their bodies even more deeply than their mouths. He wanted it with a violence that shocked him. In that instant he learned that, although he had taken other women since he had turned away from Lara, he hadn’t really wanted them. Not like this, with his blood rushing and gathering heavily between his thighs until his head spun and his knees wanted to give way, tumbling him into the soft grass with Lara still in his arms. With an almost harsh sound Carson slowly lowered Lara until her feet were touching the ground again. He didn’t know how or where he found the control not to keep on going, to pull her down with him and cover her sweet, forgiving softness with his own hungry need. When Carson’s arms loosened, Lara swayed slightly as her legs gave way. She realized that if he let go of her completely, she would slide down his body and end up in a boneless heap at his feet. The certain knowledge that she would fall unless he supported her was all that gave her the strength to pull her mouth away from his, ending the deep kiss.

  “Hold me,” Lara said, her voice so husky that it didn’t sound like her own. “My legs – “ She tried to take a breath, only to have it break into pieces with a ragged sound. She laughed helplessly. “What have you done to me, Carson? I don’t have any more bones than a spoonful of honey.”

  “Funny you should mention that,” he said, his voice deep, almost rough. “I was going to say the same thing.” Automatically he bent down to capture her mouth again, then realized what he was doing, the pursuer rather than the pursued. He straightened and took a deep breath. “You go to my head worse than Willie’s 180-proof white lightning.”

  Lara blinked and then smiled, pleased that she wasn’t the only one who felt a little weak in the knees. “Do I?” Her Oreath caught with a husky, intriguing vibration. “I like that idea,” she admitted. Carson made a sound that was a cross between a growl and a purr. Lara felt as much as heard it. Her eyes went again to his mouth. It was reddened from the force of their kiss and from the blood beating heavily through his body. Slowly Lara went up on tiptoe, supporting herself by leaning against Carson’s chest, feeling his heat and strength radiate through her blouse until her heart beat as rapidly as his. She closed her eyes and strained upward until her lips barely touched his. The tip of her tongue went out and whispered over his lips as lightly as her breath.

  “Are you doing it deliberately?” he asked, his voice both sensuous and rough.

  “What?”

  “Torturing me.”

  The tip of her tongue nuzzled the corner of his smile. “Am I torturing you?”

  “Yes,” he said, but there was no anger in the word, simply an underlying masculine purr of pleasure and laughter and hunger. Suddenly Lara remembered one of the ways Carson had “tortured”

  her years ago. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and tugged delicately, running the tip of her tongue along his resilient, captive flesh. Carson’s laughter was replaced by a deep sound of desire. His tongue slid beneath her upper lip, making her gasp. As her teeth parted, he tilted his head and fitted their mouths together smoothly, hotly, no longer worried about who was pursuer and who was pursued. She was asking for his mouth, aching for it, and they both knew it Lara felt the kiss throughout her whole body, lighting up nerves that had slept too long. The sweet friction of his tongue on hers, the taste of him, the heat and pleasure of his mouth, every aspect of the kiss swept through her. She didn’t know that she whimpered deep in her throat as her knees gave way. Nor did she know that her breasts were pressed against his chest and her mouth was straining against his every bit as fiercely as his was straining against hers, as though they both wanted a single kiss to bridge the dark chasm of misunderstanding and years that lay between them.

  It cost Carson all his strength to slowly, slowly end the kiss, although even then he held Lara as though she were his last hope of peace after a lifetime of conflict. They both were breathing quickly, unsteadily, soft bursts of sound and heat. He had never wanted a woman so much, not even the night he had turned and walked out on Lara.

  “I never knew how hot a kiss could be,” Carson said huskily, watching Lara with eyes that were dilated by passion until there was only a narrow ring of green-flecked gold around the pupils. “You’ll have to let me take time out, or I’m going to forget all my fine promises and drag you down into the grass.”

  The thought both intrigued and made Lara wary. Carson could sense passion in the rosy softness of her mouth and uneasiness in the sudden stiffening of her body against him. He nodded slowly.

  “I know,” Carson said heavily. “It’s too soon for you, isn’t it?”

  Lara closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  His thumb stroked tightly over her sensitive lips, silencing her.

  “Hush, little fox. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You gave me more with that kiss than I deserve.”

  “But you…that is, you’re – “

  Helplessly Lara’s glance went down to the thrusting evidence of Carson’s desire. His own eyes followed hers, and he smiled crookedly.

  “Yeah, I sure am. Sorry if it bothers you, but there’s not a hell of a lot I can do about it when I’m around you.”

  “Bothers me? What about you?”

  Carson laughed softly as he brushed his lips over Lara’s forehead.

  “Honey, after a kiss like that, I’d be a lot more bothered if all I had in my jeans was a pocketknife.”

  Biting her lip, Lara tried not to laugh as she looked up at Carson from beneath a black fringe of eyelashes. Then she gave up and let laughter bubble out.

  “Just for that,” Lara said finally, fighting for breath as she held out her hand to Carson, “I’m going to lead you down the primrose path of history.”

  “Is that where the primrose path leads?” Carson asked dubiously, lacing his fingers through hers. “I always thought it went to something more, um, exciting.”

  “Depends on how you define excitement.”

  “Guess,” he said succinctly.

  Lara flushed, but the color had more to do with pleasure than embarrassment. “Did you really like it?” she whispered, hardly able to believe that the kiss had been real.

  “Oh, yes,” Carson said, slanting her a sideways grin. “I really liked it. But I know scholars are trained to go to the original source for their information. So feel free to do some truly original research. Rummage around in my pockets and see what comes to hand.”

  Carson’s expression was such an outrageous combination of sober encouragement and frank sensuality that Lara forgot to be embarrassed. With a small shock she realized that the thought of sliding her hands into his pockets right now made nerves quiver deep inside her body.

  She was quite certain that she would find more than a pocketknife.

  “I think, for now, I’ll settle for researching the Rocking B’s first boundary marker,” Lara said, unable to meet Carson’s eyes or to entirely suppress the small, very female smile that tugged at her mouth.

  When Carson saw the smile, a raw stroke of desire ripped through him. His hand flexed slowly, making his palm rub over hers as hotly and completely as his tongue had. “Where do we start?”

  It took a moment for Carson’s question to register in Lara’s mind. The sensuous promise of his skin moving over hers had scattered any thoughts of history and the Rocking B’s original boundary markers. At the moment the present was far too sweet for her to care about the past.

  “Where do we start to…?” she asked, her voice trailing off as she met Carson’s eyes.

  Lara looked at Ca
rson. The angle of the sunlight had caught his eyes and turned them into brilliant topaz jewels. Light tangled in the thick hair she had so recently run her fingers through. The slanting radiance brought out highlights of deep chocolate and darkest bronze. The play of colors and sliding light shifted with each of his breaths, changing before her eyes, fascinating her.

  “Lara?”

  She blinked, but he didn’t vanish. He still stood before her, radiant with the late afternoon light, as strong and as perfect as though he had condensed from the land itself.

  “Lara?” asked Carson softly, wondering why she had gone so still.

  “You are so…perfect,” she said helplessly.

  The emotion that closed Carson’s throat for a moment had nothing to do with desire. She was coming to him so trustingly, so…perfectly. And he knew that he could not match her perfection.

  “Oh, God,” he said raggedly, closing his eyes against the light’s burning clarity. “I wish I were, Lara. For you. Just for you. But I’m not perfect. Remember that when I fail you,” he whispered. “Remember, and try to forgive me.” Lara felt herself being lifted even as she reached for Carson. She held him tightly, trying not to cry, wanting desperately to ease the wild pain she had seen in his eyes before they closed.

  “It’s all right, Carson,” she said huskily, holding him. “Whatever it is, it’s all right.”

  He held her until he ached, knowing that it wasn’t all right, knowing and praying that she would be able to forgive him when she discovered what he had done.

  Chapter Eight

  “You’re sure you’ll be all right?” asked Lara anxiously.

  “The doctor, he told me there was nothing wrong that a few weeks off this ankle will not cure,” Yolanda said, gesturing to her left ankle, which was thoroughly swathed in elastic bandages. Sighing comfortably, she propped her foot on a hassock and settled back in the worn, overstuffed chair that dominated her cabin’s small living room.