His Most Wanted

by Sandra Jones

  Kit laid his finger across her lips. “Shhh. Not done yet.”

  He kicked out of his pants and boots and then straightened to look down at her with warmth in his eyes.

  Encouraged, she smiled. Lifting her arms around his shoulders, she intended to bring his head down to hers for more, but he surprised her first, scooping her off her feet.

  “Gracious.” Squeezing her eyes shut against the height, she clung to his neck.

  “I won’t drop you. You weigh less than a minute,” he teased as he carted her to settle on the bed. Bracing a knee beside her, he leaned over and kissed her forehead, cheek and neck. Then he ran his thumb gently across her lips, letting it linger and holding her gaze as he stared at her for a long, dizzying moment. The room and everything around them seemed to evaporate to nothing, leaving them completely alone. “Speak to me only with your body, Cora. I want to hear the sound of your breathing, how much you like what I’m doing. Will you promise me that?”

  “I promise.” She spoke against his thumb and touched him with the tip of her tongue. Kit’s eyes closed, and he gave her more of his digit, keeping his body inches from hers. She nibbled and sucked his thumb while sliding her hands down his lean torso. He opened his eyes with a gasp and withdrew to scold her with a wag of his finger and a smirk.

  Keeping his own directive, however, Kit said nothing, instead kissing her deeply again before descending in a blazing trail down her neck and her side. She felt his slow path circle her breast and his fingers span across her ribs. Her nipples ached, remembering the exquisite sensation of his mouth.

  Threading her fingers in his hair, she arched her back, turning slightly on the bed toward him. He lifted his face, looked her in the eye and gave a negative shake of his head.

  Not yet.

  Oh. No wonder the brute had made her promise.

  She curled her bottom lip into a pout. He smiled in return and went back to his kisses, forming a languid path across her stomach, dipping his tongue into her navel, before traveling back up her midsection. Reaching across her, his body hovered close—so close she could feel the tiny hairs of his body teasing her skin, kindling a thousand tiny fires in their path. She melted inside, heat rapidly pooling lower and lower in her belly.

  Her toes curled against the bed as he came for her breasts at last and took a nipple inside the heat of his mouth. “Ahhh…”

  He lifted his head and cool air instantly hit her taut bud. “Shh. I want only one sound from your lips.”

  She nodded, biting her tongue. Of course, she would try harder. Anything to bring his mouth and touch back. Scoundrel!

  His heavy erection rested on her leg, and she gasped. Before when they’d made love in the bath, she’d felt some discomfort at his entry. He’d been large then, but beneath the sudsy water, she hadn’t been able to see their bodies join. The union now, in daylight, brought new concerns. How could she pretend to enjoy him the way he intended if he was so thick? She was experienced, of course, but she wasn’t one of her girls, well-practiced in the arts of the bedroom.

  As if sensing her thoughts, he slowed, swirling his tongue around each nipple, taking his sweet time as he ran his hands across her body, playing his fingers over her flesh like a musician’s over an instrument. Soon she heard her breathing change like the airy notes on a woodwind, tuning at his skillful artistry. Delight spun through her.

  After a while, he dipped his hand between her legs and stroked her sex, spreading her dew in a sensual circle that had her biting her lip to keep words from tumbling out—though what she had to say was surely mindless rubbish. Her skin went feverish as she clung to him, gripping the back of his neck.

  But even after he’d admonished her from speaking, she couldn’t help the whimper of desire that escaped her mouth when he moved between her legs. He replaced the rhythm of his fingers with his intimate kiss, his tongue stroking her with wild decadence that had her aching for more. Her knees drew up beside his dark head and her fingers caressed his scalp. She sensed herself growing more savage with hunger with every passing moment. Soon. Very soon. Each second, she turned more feral, uncontrolled. Another whimper came from deeper in her chest.

  This time, he broke his rule and groaned into her flesh. Her insides quivered in response. Surely now was the time—

  “Kit,” she bit out, tilting her hips.

  He lifted his head and broke into a dazzling smile. “Shhh. Almost.” Rising above her, he wrapped his hands underneath her, molding to the curves of her backside. His body arched above hers as he brought her up to meet his thrust and entry.

  Her pleasure was instantaneous, pure splendor, his size providing exactly what she needed. He drew back and pushed forward, deeper, his hands exploring her body as she took over, grinding her hips to his rhythm. His mouth began an exploration of its own, kissing, nibbling, everywhere at once, while he moved over her, a mountain of sinew and warm skin.

  Kit was a marvel. She longed to tell him where her body begged to be touched, but he was right. She had no need for words. He was there, at every nook, every line, every aching point, answering her cravings with exactly what she needed, guided by instinct alone.

  Now, pleasure coming to a head, her legs clenched him, her inner muscles tightening as the pressure within broke and his calculated motions brought her writhing to a spiraling climax. His name tore from her lungs as she met his thrust.

  Oh, Christ!

  It was all he could do to keep from spilling into her at the sound of her cry and the feel of her throbbing release, but he wasn’t done yet. Far from it.

  Although Cora had admitted she was no practiced lover, her lovemaking had him feeling like the youth he’d been his first time, when he’d paid his way into a lady’s bed. Only now he wasn’t with a bought whore, but with a woman he’d desired with an ever-escalating need, a woman he respected and hoped to please. God, yes, he hoped to bring her the pleasure she’d been missing all those years, and the fact that she’d chosen him—worthless idler that he was—as her lover made him try all the harder.

  Cora’s legs tightened around him, bringing him deeper inside as she gripped him in her slick core, refusing to yield to her initial spasms. She urged him under the waves with her, drawing him down the whirlpool of ecstasy that was her climax, a wild, crashing surf beating against her shores. He couldn’t look away from her face, her expressions, wanting to experience every moment of her victory over the past, longing to bring her the delights she’d been missing all her adult life. Suddenly it came to him with a surge of emotion…

  He was no longer the self-centered man his uncle had accused him of being.

  He lifted her into his arms as he filled her, embracing her completely as joy sent him soaring. His expression must’ve shown it, because when he looked into her eyes again, pleasure reflected there. She gave another adorable moan as she came. The sweetness of the sound was his last undoing. He gave her all he had—a quaking climax that turned his body into steel—and then collapsed with her in his arms.

  Cora nestled against him, and he pressed tiny kisses to the crown of her forehead, loving the feel of her slick body against his.

  “This day has meant more to me than you’ll ever know,” she said in a shy, breathless voice as she traced a pattern on his chest with a fingertip.

  His heart constricted. This day. Somehow, those two tiny words pierced his soul. Of course he would have to return to town with her soon. Sheriffs weren’t supposed to have bordello madams for lovers. That unwanted thought was enough to make him wish he’d told the mayor where he could hang his badge.

  Worse, she would return to her place, the club frequented by men—some even more contemptible and dangerous than himself. There, she would continue her command of the tight ship, barking out orders and rules that kept her ladies safe and prosperous. Admirably so. Or perhaps now that he’d freed her from her dark fears and mistrust of all men,
she would take other lovers too. Paying clients.

  Of course she might. Who was he to say otherwise?

  No. His soul howled deep inside.

  Cora mustn’t go back.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cora finished buttoning her bodice as she admired Kit lying beside her. His hand rested on her skirt, lightly caressing her thigh while his eyes remained closed and his long body spread across the surface of the flat rock on the bank of a lovely creek. The late afternoon sun lit the gurgling water like thousands of diamonds passing by, and with Kit’s shirt open, exposing his chest still-damp from their latest lovemaking, his skin glistened as well.

  Six times they’d made love now. Six glorious, magical moments of stirring, breathless romps followed by slow, intimate hours of exploring each other’s bodies.

  Each time, they’d chosen a different setting for their stolen moments, surreptitiously avoiding Ben—though the old codger had to know why they’d sent him off alone so often. But even as they’d grown closer to each other, they’d also avoided conversations about home. Yesterday, when she’d mentioned how she’d dreaded the horseback ride to Fort McNamara, Kit had told her that his side wasn’t healed enough to travel, and he’d swiftly changed the topic of conversation. Then this morning, after a lengthy kissing session in the barn, she’d broached the subject of returning to check on her employees. Kit’s face had reddened, but he’d said nothing in return, merely mumbled something inaudible before heading into the house to make her the most wonderful breakfast with the dwindling provisions.

  Maybe he didn’t want to talk about her work. Fine. Some men were uncomfortable with her profession. Jupiter, for one. But for Pete’s sake, Kit had owned a brothel before, and he’d even been a Willows’ client himself before they’d come to his ranch.

  It made no sense why he would want to avoid their obligations in town. Cora didn’t buy his late uncle’s insistence that Kit would never be anything but lazy. He’d worked hard on the ranch so far, helping Ben with every chore that needed to be done. Kit’s pride seemed evident in his efforts and demeanor.

  He was a good man, a caring man. He didn’t deserve the lingering guilt from his uncle’s untimely death.

  Now, unbeknownst to him, she studied his face, the regal bone structure beneath the skin she’d enjoyed shaving earlier, the thick black lashes resting on his cheeks, the full mouth that had loved her so well these past several days.

  Her insides fluttered as she imagined his eyes opening to catch her staring. Yet even if he did, she would welcome the smile that would surely follow. His easy, charming grin could melt her heart. She couldn’t imagine having a day without seeing his smile.

  Oh, gracious Lord. Could she be in love with Christopher Wainwright?

  Impossible.

  They’d talked some about themselves, shared a few personal stories, but there was still a lot about each other they didn’t know. Maybe she should look for some reason not to care about him—aside from the fact he was a sheriff and she was the owner of a house of ill-repute and killer of the last lawman.

  “What do you know about your family, Kit?” she began timidly. “I never knew my father, but my mother said he was a wealthy planter in Mississippi. You said your uncle and aunt raised you. Why didn’t they have any children of their own?”

  His eyes opened to regard her through narrow slits. “Maybe having me was enough?” He snorted, giving her leg another stroke. “Honestly, I don’t recall the two of them being exactly enamored with each other.”

  “Oh, surely you’re wrong. Your uncle wore mourning clothes all those years…didn’t they ever kiss in front of you? Maybe they couldn’t have any babies.”

  He pushed up on one elbow, regarding her with one arched brow. “I have no idea. They never mentioned wanting children. I never saw any cordiality between them, let alone embraces or warmth. Why all this sudden interest in the Wainwrights?”

  Heat traveled up her neck as she struggled to think of an answer. Because I care about you, what your childhood must’ve been like…who you are and what’s important to you.

  Ugh. Please God, don’t let me be jealous of the bride he has yet to meet and marry.

  Too late. Her mind went there, imagining him with a beautiful wife, living in the idyllic ranch she’d helped him fix up, and a precocious little raven-haired tot at Kit’s side. A life she could never have, no matter how she longed for it.

  She cringed and scooted away from his touch. “We still have time to make it into town before sunset.”

  He snagged her hand, keeping her from rising. “Cora—”

  “We can even take it slow, follow the river so there’ll be fewer hills for your horse to climb.” A current of warmth traveled up her arm from his touch, but when she tugged against him, he didn’t release her.

  He squeezed her hand. “Look at me.”

  His voice compelled her and twisted her insides like ribbons around his finger, made her glance into his eyes. His deep and serious gaze pulled her in.

  “I know you have obligations to the club and the ladies, but I have a job to do too.”

  “Catching the sheriff’s murderer, you mean?” She set her jaw and drew back her shoulders, mustering all the courage she could. “I told you I would surrender—”

  “No, you won’t.” He shook his head, bending over their joined hands as he drew in a long breath. When he glanced back up, his mouth curved. “I told you, there’s no need for you to do anythin’ like that. Just give Velvet Grace a rest, retire the hood and give people time to forget what happened. In the meantime, you and I—”

  “Whoa.” She put her free hand on his shoulder, bracing herself from the embrace he was pulling her into. “I can’t give up protecting my friends.”

  A frown appeared between his eyes. “No. I didn’t think you could. But at least quit runnin’ into town at night, tryin’ to scare dangerous men. I’m the sheriff. It’s my job to protect you and the others. I could stay in the Willows—or at least have a room nearby—where I could keep a better watch on the place.”

  “What? No. I couldn’t ask you to do that. For one reason, it’d be professional ruin…for both of us. The town would never stand for a sheriff who spent all his nights hangin’ around the Row. And for another, if you did stay close by, who would keep an eye on your ranch and the rest of Fort McNamara? Surely not your deputy. No, it’s a terrible idea.”

  He released her and leaned back, searching her face. “I thought you might like the idea of me being around. Guess I was wrong.” He folded his arms over his chest, and his face tightened with emotion she hadn’t seen from him before.

  Her heart hammered with anger and disappointment. If only he’d said he cared about her, that he’d simply wanted to be with her.

  “If I let you hover over the club, sleeping with me,” she said, the hot words tumbling from her mouth before she could stop herself, “how would that be any different than the arrangement I had with Sidlow? The only difference would be that you would be getting sex and he was getting money.”

  His eyes darkened, and she could feel him withdrawing from her.

  “I think it’s past time we went back to check on Ben.” Kit got to his feet, pulling her up with him. Leaving her standing, he jumped off the rock to the ground, grabbed his gun belt and lifted his arms to assist her.

  A flare of temper overtook her. She moved out of reach, gathered up her rumpled skirt and hopped down on her own. They marched back through the woods in icy silence, her leading and him walking farther and farther behind her. He lagged so far back, the only way she knew he was still there was from the occasional whap of wood hitting a tree as he kicked a fallen limb out of his path. By the time they reached the empty pasture, her chest ached from the angry drill of blood in her breast.

  “Cora! Cora!” Her name reached her ears as a shout, making her wonder how long Kit had repe
ated it before she heard him. She turned around to find him catching up with her, his finger pointed at the group of riders heading their way on the horizon.

  How had she missed seeing them? Clearly, the men were coming to greet them.

  She glanced back at Kit, putting a question in her expression. But his eyes were locked on the riders, his face rigid. She couldn’t help noticing his hand resting on the handle of the gun now strapped on his hip.

  For all his vowing he would give up wearing the weapon, he still put it on each day. Now she was damned glad he had since she’d left her own pistol on the bedroom dresser.

  He moved closer to her as the riders grew near.

  She made out the faces of the men as they got close enough. There were three of them. Ray, Jupiter and Joe Buchanan from the telegraph office and one of her regulars at the club. All looked grim, no smiles or nods in greeting as they stopped. No man moved to dismount.

  This can’t be good.

  The mayor spoke first. “Sheriff, Jupiter told us he thought we’d find you out here.”

  Kit lifted his hand as if to touch the brim of his hat, but he’d left it behind on the rock, probably forgotten when they’d quarreled. “Yes, sir. Doing a little work on the place.”

  Kit crossed his arms over his chest again, and Cora’s face heated at the sight of his state of clothes, his open shirt, mussed hair.

  She glanced down at herself. At least she’d managed to finish dressing before they’d argued. She looked back at Jupiter. Why would the mayor be asking him about the sheriff’s whereabouts? And why did Jupiter refuse to meet her gaze?

  Then she caught the flash of new metal on his chest.

  “Have you been deputized, Jupiter?” She took a step toward his horse, but Kit cut her off, blocking her from the other men.

  “What’s the meaning of this visit, Mayor? Not a social call, I’d imagine.” His voice was serious and the set of his shoulders held wary aggression.