by Amber Scott
If his friends were that scary, what kind of a man did that make him? The kind who warned her, came back for her, and gave her his shirt, she mentally scolded her inner voice. The kind who was going to drive her home. Or at least as far as town.
After what felt like forever to her bare feet, they came to a tiny clearing where a tall, black horse bent its neck grazing. Samantha halted in her tracks, scanning the dense foliage for his car. Truck? SUV?
No. But then, the terrain here wasn’t clear enough for a vehicle, SUV or not. So they were going to ride to the truck. To get away from the evil, violating men he kept company with. She could handle that.
She hoped.
~~~
Chapter Three
Torn didn’t encompass what Jesse felt when he found her again. She was standing up, and the moonlight outlining every slim curve. Her long hair trembled in the breeze, and lengths of skin were exposed. The seductive—surreal—image of her struck him, and his body responded with a force he couldn’t reckon with.
His heart beat faster, his palms sweated, and his gut tightened just looking at her. Jesse hoped he could withstand the ride down. One voice said, “Leave her be.” Another negotiated that with that much skin bared, she had to be a painted lady. If so, it said, “Seduce her, take her.” He’d denied both. His partners slumbering nearby were more than enough motivation to stay focused. His focus didn’t stop the struggle, though.
Though Jesse knew the horse had scented them approaching, Jesse whispered reassuringly to Diamond, stroking the stallion’s neck.
If she were a soiled dove, he had no interest in taking up with her. Certainly, a woman on her own had tough choices to make, and he was in no position to judge. But in his experience, ladies with such a past carried a long list of heartaches with them.
“A horse?” she asked, her teeth a-chattering.
Not knowing what she was really asking, he gave Diamond a good pat instead. He should have brought her a blanket. But he’d found nothing of use that wouldn’t raise brows or make a ruckus.
The part of him that wanted all that beckoning creamy skin to be bared for innocent reason, though, didn’t help matters with its logic. A woman abandoned as she was in the middle of nowhere, whimpering under the cold, might come with a different set of troubles. Whoever helped get her out here wasn’t the kind he’d like to tangle with.
Say both parts of him were wrong. Then what?
Jesse stole a glance her way and retrieved Diamond’s reins from the saddle horn.
He was not a man in any position to woo a woman proper-like. Even though she cussed like a miner and exposed her calves for all to see, she had the bearings of a lady, gently reared and born. The proud, almost sophisticated way she carried herself, even as she trembled in the cold and showed her anger, warned him not to assume the worst.
He gave her his full attention. “To make good time, you’ll have to ride astride.”
She shivered, but nodded. “That’s fine. Front or back?”
His sleeved shirt wasn’t helping her much, no matter how good she looked in it. Damn it, he should have grabbed his blanket, but if Mick or Joe woke and found it gone, they’d know he was, too, and come after him. Thereby her.
Front meant her derriere in his lap wriggling at a trot. Back meant her breasts.
He wanted to kick something. They didn’t have time for indecision. “Front will do.”
Leastwise, he could keep her warmer from behind, arms wrapped around those slim shoulders—. He halted his thoughts then and there. He needed his senses focused on signs of danger. A mountain lion or snake, or worse, Mick or Joe.
Hopefully, his cohorts would see his empty blanket, figure he was taking a leak, and roll back over. Leastwise ’til sunup. He didn’t have a lot of time to get her back to wherever she’d come from, and he was surer with every passing moment he didn’t want to know how.
Sympathy would only feed the fire sparking his libido.
Jesse laced and cupped his hands to help her into the saddle. She hiked up her skirt and threw a long leg, pale in the shadows, over the saddle and settled in with an impish smile.
Had she worried she wouldn’t find her seat?
He almost grinned back, but he wasn’t out to get friendly. Scanning the trees and listening for out-of-place sounds once more seemed a better strategy, lest he ogle her legs.
Keeping thoughts about her long legs wrapped around his hips would make for a hard journey, in more ways than one, and they’d soon both be suffering. The less they spoke the better, so he kept quiet, telling his body to follow suit and do the same.
Ladies like her expected vows. Life on the run left no room for promises. Besides, he wasn’t the settling kind. Yet.
Should have known ignoring her beauty was too much to ask. He fit a boot into the stirrup. She moved to accommodate, and her less than practical skirt (or was it a petticoat?) hiked up another four inches, exposing too much smooth creaminess than any man could be expected to handle.
He would. He had no choice in the matter but to take his bad intentions elsewhere.
The idea of the two he’d left in camp laying eyes and hands on her gleaming flesh held him steady, and he got up into the saddle behind her. Making swift and abrupt adjustments in the narrow seat, within seconds he had her in his lap, pressed snugly against his groin.
Diamond nickered, shifting and ready to go.
She gasped and peered around at him, but didn’t protest. He refused to look her in the eye, lest she see the lusty effect she was having on him and want to bolt. No sense chasing a woman scared in the dark.
Trusting a stranger couldn’t be easy for any woman, but as far as he could tell, she didn’t have a choice. Getting her away from Mick and Joe—that’s what he’d focus on. Then getting his hide back before they came looking to skin it.
He might be the brains of their triad, but those two jumped to brawn fast.
He nudged his heels, letting Diamond walk away softly. The stallion did so without straining under the extra weight. Course, she couldn’t weigh much. She was tall, thin, but not too thin.
She leaned back against him as they took a short down slope. Her back warmed his chest and sent a shiver over his bare skin that should have ended at his belly. Instead, his belly tightened again. His belly and too damn far below it.
*
Oh, he was cold, Samantha realized, and leaned back a little more. Not in an obvious way. Just enough to volley a signal asking, “You feeling what I’m feeling?”
Half of her was trying to figure out if he had an erection, and the other half was thinking of ways to give him one. Bad, bad Samantha! She should be all twisted up in fear. Or sorrow. Her wall of numb gave way for this?
Well, he was really hot. If anything could penetrate the numbness, off-the-charts hot should, right?
No. No, no, no. Not happening, Samantha. And not just because he was in no way returning her subtle leans and wiggles. Because she should be focused on getting home. Home. Charles. Law school. Real life outside of stuck in time Winnemucca, Nevada.
Maybe if she were still cold, her thoughts wouldn’t keep painting in pictures of his rippling muscles and tight jeans. Even stooping to scoop her foot, nothing but skin on muscle. Damn. The only things missing were a cowboy hat and oil to make his smooth skin glisten like a black-haired Adonis.
She bet his hair was soft and smelled like leather. Mmm. Leather and earth.
Heat rushed through her limbs. Delicious heat that pressed back the raw hollow inside her and filled up empty space. She couldn’t resist. Surreptitiously, slowly, she adjusted her weight. She wiggled a bit, testing his body with her bottom. She let her muscles relax so their bodies drew closer.
She listened for sounds of approval, signs to keep going.
Nothing. And while his non-response should have acted as a cold water douse, it didn’t.
She wanted to push it further instead, to test him more. Test her powers of feminine persuasion. She res
isted. While all this sensation swirling inside of her might feel like such a relief contrasted to the last two years of hard work, singledom and estrangement, she knew in the end that it would hurt worse if she pursued it.
After a few minutes tucked in the trees, carefully weaving through them, Handsome veered the horse out into the open. They traveled along a stream’s bank down the short hill, and the horse’s walk made it easy for her imagination to take over again.
She relaxed a bit extra, which made her bounce a bit more and lean a bit deeper back. If she concentrated very hard, she could swear that was more than a zipper or fly pressing back.
Okay. So not pressing since he’d barely moved a muscle under all her jiggling. She almost sighed, but feared doing so would make him ask what was the matter. Hell, she didn’t know. What was the matter with her? One little tragedy, and she was ready to throw herself at the first hot, moving man nearby?
Yeah, there was the gentlemanliness factor. Undeniably sweet on her insides. But still. Hooking up was not an option.
At the bottom, a small finger of water outcropped, forking and twining in front of their path.
Rather than going around, the horse jumped it. Samantha slid to the side and yelped. She’d been on only a handful of horses, and none had ever jumped.
“Shhh,” the man said against her ear, his breath ticking her neck. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”
He did. He held her by the waist, similar to before when he’d pinned her after waking her. This time, something was different. For one, she wasn’t fighting him. For another, he didn’t move away once she relaxed back into him. He kept a firm but yielding hold on her, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his fingers itched to explore. If they didn’t, something else had them subtly shaking.
She relaxed her back farther, every sense straining to pick up signs she was going too far.
Her rational mind apparently exited stage left, because she no longer considered stopping. Stopping sounded abysmal, like the wrongest choice. Neither did she fear blundering into dangerous territory with a stranger, under far-from-normal circumstances. She chased only the heat, the need filling up an emptiness she’d grown too used to.
She didn’t even know his name. He’d never even asked hers.
A thrill went through her body. Like a dare. Two strangers, riding in the dark, breathing in each other’s warm scents. She couldn’t have fantasized a better situation. A full moon, crickets chirping, stream burbling.
A night breeze blew through the trees, a hiss of leaves.
Samantha’s mind raced through possibilities. Unthinkable possibilities. Anonymous, like ships passing in the night—close enough to be seen, too far away to be identified. Ships? Ugh. She could practically hear Charles snort over that cliché.
She shut the imaginary best friend voice up in a skeleton closet. Forget Charles.
She would never see this man again. She didn’t even know his name.
Could she pull it off?
Dare or not, she was no seductress. She’d had no more than a handful of lovers. Only two were long term, and none were interesting enough to relive with a sigh. Nothing like this. No one like him.
Samantha’s body rippled—not heat this time, but something else. Something she’d felt only a few times in her life. She recognized the unique attraction, but how suddenly it came on, how intensely, took her aback.
God, she prayed he felt it, too. Otherwise, she was about to make a complete idiot out of herself and, in the process, probably annihilate her chances at a ride home. She could wait until they got to his car, try to flirt, or try some innuendo, until he propositioned her and pulled over ... no.
A fling in a car amounted to no fantasy and wasn’t nearly as daring as a shirtless cowboy on a black stallion, rescuing her in the dark, stealing her away from harm’s way.
She could so easily inch her body backward and up, rotate her hips and reach behind. Or she could turn around—without falling off—then blame the cold, lean in, lick his neck. Open his jeans and free his—
“We have to stop,” he said.
“Why?” Samantha whispered, alarm shooting through her. Her body screamed, “Don’t back down!” She couldn’t let this chance pass her by! No one would ever know except him and her. She would know and could remember it—him—forever. As this grew more real, more vibrant, her other life seemed far away.
“Shhh. You’re safe.” His breath tickled her scalp. Was his voice husky, or did she imagine the low tones as a caress? His arm loosened its nice hold, but he didn’t let go. “Stay calm, and let me listen.”
Samantha closed her mouth on her ragged breathing. His warmth shivered over her skin. She shut her eyes and swallowed. God, he smelled good. He felt good. Broad, wiry strength oozed from every muscle. His thighs, his arms, and his chest pressed against her.
If there was a chance for something between them, she couldn’t ignore it. She had to be bold. This was one of those moments, the kind a person reads about, that if passed up, leaves a well of regrets behind. She’d missed one like this once before, a long time ago.
At least it seemed like a long time. Really, it was no more than ten years. The summer before her sixteenth birthday, the day Tommy Holt was leaving for college and snuck out to see her and to say good-bye. That night, sitting on her roof under the stars, she should have kissed him. But shyness had gotten the better of her, and to this day, she missed that boy. That missed kiss.
The horse held as unmoving as he did. What did he hear? Samantha only heard her own heart. She only felt her attraction building, mixing with a dash of desperation. She dug deep down, finding something—anything—to embolden her. It was now or never.
Her chance was right there at hand, lying at her feet, sitting right behind her. All she had to do was turn her head, gaze into his eyes, and show the unspoken question every man and woman in history ask at some perfect crossroads in their lives.
“Did you hear that?” he asked. The horse shifted weight under them.
Samantha’s throat tightened, her palms became wet. Shit. Hear what? Had the bad guys found them? Breathless, she twisted to see his face.
~~~
Chapter Four
She met his gaze, but didn’t speak. In truth, she couldn’t speak. Didn’t know what to say. The moonlight seemed to shine right into his eyes, and they, in turn, suffused her soul. His eyelids lowered, his gaze fell to her mouth.
Hand gripping the saddle horn, she turned more fully toward him, parted her lips.
Please, oh please, let this happen! Let him kiss her, devour her senses with his mouth. He leaned forward. Her breath caught.
His gaze snapped back to hers, his arm pulled her close, and within an angel’s whisper, he answered Samantha’s prayer. He slowly touched his lips to hers, gently at first. She responded in kind, forcing herself not to rush and to follow his lead. He pressed and suckled, inhaling through his nose like he was drinking her in.
Her belly quivered.
She opened her mouth to his soft tongue, and as he tasted her, a tiny moan escaped her. He paused. She stiffened and opened her eyes. His were open, too, and regarding her curiously. Samantha swore to suppress all future sounds of pleasure. She didn’t want this to end. She shut her eyes. He kissed her again, deeper, lips pressing, mouth suckling. She opened fully to him, as his tongue stroked and teased, until her body sang with hungry pleasure.
In one deft, effortless move, he lifted her and straddled her over his lap. Cold air tickled her thighs. She suddenly faced him, all without breaking the press of his mouth on hers.
Im-freaking-pressive.
Samantha gasped at the remarkable difference her new position made. All that gleaming muscle there for the taking, but she couldn’t dare. Could she? Her hands shook. She made fists at her thighs. He cupped her cheek and pulled her close by her lower back. So possessively that her confidence rose. She put her hands on his chest. So hard, but soft, too.
His tongue explored her lips.
His kiss deepened, making her dizzy as her hands roved over his pecs, up his neck, and down the deep ripples of waist to his jeans. She paused at the top button, then continued past, over his hips, covering his thighs, ever aware of what she was not touching. Yet.
She pressed her hips closer, shocked at her body’s throb. If she was eager and hot, he was collected and cool. The cowboy cupped her face, ran his fingers into her hair. He kissed her in an intense, drawn-out fashion, slowing her, tempering her fever.
His mouth moved over her cheek, to her ear, where he suckled and nipped her lobe. Tickling fingers trailed down her belly, landing lower, feeding the ache building there.
“Who are you?” he whispered against her skin.
The horse shifted beneath them. Handsome held her steady. She fumbled with the button of his jeans, catching her nail. His hands covered hers, stopping her. The world suspended. He went very still.
Samantha opened her eyes. The world had not, in fact, disappeared. Neither had he. The shadowed green of his eyes had darkened with passion. What he wanted showed on every feature, from his heavy-lidded gaze to his clenching jaw.
He looked away, glanced around.
The bad dudes he’d protected her from. She’d forgotten them entirely, threat and all. What did this man do to her?
She also looked around, unsure of what she was looking for, but feeling like she should, and wanting to do anything to return his attention to her. She parted her lips.
“Don’t speak,” he whispered, nudging the horse into motion.
They were leaving? Her hopes began to plummet.
Her stranger stiffened slightly. The horse under them shifted, beginning to walk. Samantha straightened, looking up to see what was wrong.
“Someone’s coming,” he said and kissed the tip of her nose.
Oh, no! Here she’d been swept away by the heady effects of his kiss, and she might still be in danger. In another easy motion, he flipped her up and facing outward once again. He adjusted under her and if she had wondered about his reaction to her she no longer needed to. She felt it. Too bad fear and adrenaline had bathed all that heat in cold. She corrected her skirt and forced a keen sense of sadness at bay.
