Montana Wildfire

by Rebecca Sinclair

  The hand fisting her braid tugged, angling her head back even as his tipped forward. His mouth opened, his tongue stroked and teased, insisting hers to do the same. When she did, his mouth ravished hers.

  Three days of pent-up desire had whet his appetite. Passion flamed instantly. It felt hot and bubbly inside of him, raging at a fevered pitch, humming through his body and tightening like an iron-hard fist in the more integral parts of him.

  He was no longer merely kissing her. His severely weakened restraint wouldn't allow tenderness. Instead, he devoured her soft, moist, willing lips. When she opened for him, he plunged his tongue into her mouth and fed off her honeyed taste like a man parched.

  The thrust of her breasts against his chest—firm and oh, so temptingly round—was a bittersweet torture. Even as his fingers flexed, he fought the urge to find the buttons concealing her from his needy palms, fought the urge to rip free the flimsy barrier separating flesh from hot, hungry flesh.

  He couldn't do that. He couldn't lose that much control over himself, but... Dammit! It was hard to show restraint, especially when her tasty little tongue stole into his mouth and began a slow, timid investigation. How could he not touch her when her delicious body was arching into his, begging him to do exactly that? Touch her... all over... again and again.

  Jake wasn't stupid. He'd lain with enough women to know when one wanted him. Yet he couldn't remember a time when any woman had wanted him this badly. Lord knows he'd never wanted a woman to the extent he wanted this one. Here. Now. Fast and hard. The need to claim and possess ate at him, consumed him. He wanted Amanda, and only Amanda. He wanted to be buried inside of her, to feel her hot and wet and tight around him. He wanted her in a variety of ways that would probably have shocked her to the prim Bostonian core. And he wanted it all so badly he ached!

  The more he kissed her, the more passionately she responded, the more real those possibilities became. And the more the sharply drawn line between past and future blurred, the rules of the game grew hazy. Reality, consequences faded to insignificance.

  Jake delved his tongue into her mouth. His savage, claiming strokes fed the fire that was burning out of control inside them both. But it wasn't enough. Dear God, it wasn't enough!

  She arched into him, he swallowed her groan. He deepened the kiss, she swallowed his own low, tortured moan.

  He could have her now. Amanda was hot and willing in his arms. Exactly the way he wanted her. Exactly the way he'd dreamed she would be. She wouldn't fight, she would surrender. Rain be damned, she would not turn him away. Her sweet lips moving beneath his, giving as good as she got; her tantalizing body moving hungrily against his, pleading without using words; all of it said he could take her now, make her his. He could pull her down from the mare and join her on the hard, moist ground. He could finally, finally soothe the empty, hollow ache this woman's mere presence carved inside of him. If he dared, he could find out how it felt to have her forbidden white flesh skim like silk beneath his rough copper palm.

  Jake remembered how her nipple had pebbled to hardness for him once before. His fingertips burned with the memory. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? His entire body burned with it! With need. For her. He could learn what the lush fullness of her breast really felt like now, without the obstruction of cloth, without barriers.

  Memories circled in his mind—sharp, biting pictures that haunted—but they were swiftly being banished by all the frustrated fantasies that rushed to the fore. The prospect of taking Amanda Lennox to his bed was impossible to resist. He wanted her. Her, dammit! And he wanted her now. He wanted to know what it felt like to have her long white legs wrapped around his hips as he pumped his life into her. He wanted, needed to take her, to feel her heal the hurt inside of him in ways that Jake sensed only she could.

  He should resist. Should, but couldn't. He had to know what it was like to be an integral part of this woman. Just once. Because the three days—the three hellishly long nights—of wondering had nearly driven him insane. The unbearable desire surging through his body said he was only human. A man could only take so much, and he'd already taken his fair share. He simply could not face needing her this badly another second.

  From the way she was moving urgently against him, it was what Amanda wanted too. Even if she didn't quite know it yet.

  She shifted. Her hands skimmed his shoulders, then dipped beneath the open collar of Jake's shirt.

  The decision, if there ever really had been one, was made. The way her choppy, almost confused sounding sigh rang in his ears was an unnecessary confirmation that, while what he was about to do wasn't exactly right, he was going to—had to—do it anyway. Consequences be damned. What was going to happen had been a foregone conclusion—an inevitability—since the second he'd slipped his hands beneath that frigid river-water to free her ankle from the tree branch.

  He'd wanted her then.

  He wanted her more now.

  And he was going to have her. Damned if he wasn't!

  The male in him was wild with hunger, driven by urges too essential to deny. Primitive needs rushed to the fore. They had no rhyme or reason. They were too strong and consuming to ignore or deny.

  He was going to have her, going to make her his. God help him, he was going to possess this lady—this white lady—right here, right now.

  Chapter 11

  The sun peeked from behind a water-heavy cloud, warming the cool breeze that puffed over Amanda's skin, warming the drops of rain that sprinkled her cheeks.

  Of course, she could have been in a blizzard for all she would have noticed. Jake was kissing her—deeply, hungrily, as though he never intended to stop kissing her. His mouth ate at hers, devouring the giving softness of her lips. His hands stroked feverish paths up and down her arms. Her body burned for him to stroke her just as feverishly elsewhere. Everywhere.

  If there was anything else in the world besides the two of them, Amanda didn't notice. She'd waited so long for this moment. She wouldn't let herself be distracted.

  Jake's fingers, riding her waist, tightened as he deepened the kiss, lightened it, then deepened it yet again. Amanda snuck her hands under the collar of his shirt. The muscles gliding beneath her fingertips bunched and flexed with his every move, proof of his dormant strength. It was odd that she didn't feel frightened or intimidated by that, the way she had been by his fury. Considering the circumstances, she should be scared senseless. And that, she thought, was exactly the problem. When Jake Chandler held her like this, kissed and touched her like this, she simply could not think straight. Nor did she want to.

  Their mouths hungrily locked, Jake shifted and lifted Amanda off of the mare. He turned her slightly, and settled her in front of him atop the white. The animal felt strong and solid beneath her, but not as strong and solid as the big hand that settled possessively on her hip. She sucked in a ragged breath when Jake dragged her up against his chest, tightly, as though he was trying to melt her through his clothes, into his warm flesh. His fingers curled into her bottom as he molded the side of her hip into the wedge of his parted thighs. The firmness of the horse felt as soft as sun-warm clay when compared to the hard strength of Jake's body, pressing against her.

  Jake pulled back only far enough for his tongue to stop plundering Amanda's mouth. His appetite momentarily appeased, he seemed content to let the very tip of his tongue skim her kiss-swollen lips. He licked and savored, sipping at the hot sweetness of her mouth without launching a second invasion. Yet.

  While one hand hovered near her waist—the fingers flexing and releasing the wrinkled calico, tunneling possessively into the soft white flesh beneath—his other hand slipped behind her back. His palm stroked a path of fire up her spine, then hooked over a slender shoulder. He yanked her so close their frantic heartbeats entwined.

  "Remember the kiss?" His hot, moist tongue stroked her lips between each huskily whispered word. "The first kiss, princess. The one we were supposed to put behind us and forget."

  Amanda h
esitated, then nodded as best she could with her head thrown back, and Jake's breath burning hotly over her chin, along her jaw, down the sensitive taper of her neck. "I... yes, Jake, I remember."

  "It didn't work for me either. I didn't forget you, Amanda. I tried... God, how I tried! But I didn't, couldn't forget how sweet you taste. How much I wanted to taste you again."

  "I know," she said hoarsely and sucked in a shaky breath when his teeth nibbled a particularly vulnerable spot, the center of her lower lip. A trickle of heat feathered through her blood, a hot surge of desire poured through her veins. Her hands fisted his shirt, even as she arched more closely against his hard male heat. "I—I know you didn't forget, Jake."

  His silky hair tickled her throat when he nodded. He tasted the skin on the side of her neck, just below her ear. With a throaty moan, he sucked a patch of it into his mouth.

  Damn, she tasted good! All creamy and sweet. Forbidden fruit, forbidden white skin. He hesitated, abandoning himself to the bittersweet flavor of her, the bittersweet feel of her flesh skimming beneath his hungry tongue. He kissed her neck, nuzzled the possessive red mark his suckling mouth had branded into her flesh. He stopped to gulp in a long, shuddering breath.

  Jake's head lifted. His passion-darkened gaze seared into Amanda. Her head was thrown back, cradled against his shoulder, her throat eagerly exposed to him. He could see the pulse pounding in the creamy hollow. As tempting as it would be to caress that frantic beat with his tongue, he didn't. Not yet. But the temptation was there, and it was stronger than anything he'd ever felt before.

  His gaze lifted. Wispy strands of spun gold had escaped the braid at her nape. The long, rain-dampened tendrils made spirals to frame her cheeks and brow. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. So moist. So tempting. As he watched, her lips parted oh, so softly, as though begging for a fuller exploration.

  Jake promised himself she would get exactly that.

  Soon. But there was something his mind demanded he say to this woman before his body took control. He waited until her lashes had swooped up. The fear that he was about to stop this sensuous madness shimmered in her eyes; it was tempered by a determined green glint that said she would not let him stop. Not now, perhaps not ever.

  "I told you I don't repeat my mistakes, Amanda Lennox," he said, his voice strained. He tightened his hold on her when she flinched. Her eyes looked huge and moist in what little light the day offered. Her attention shifted to the side of his neck, which was concealed from view by the thick black curtain of his hair. Their thoughts meshed on the scar creasing his skin.

  Pain swam in her eyes, tightened her expression. The same pain knifed through Jake. The intensity of it might have made him stop talking there and then, had he allowed himself to surrender to it. He didn't.

  He sandwiched her cheeks in his open palms and held her steady when she would have looked away. Dammit, he didn't want her looking away from him! Not now. He wanted her eyes on him, nowhere else, when he said what needed to be said and said it as quickly as humanly possible. "Kissing you once and hoping it would get you out of my system was a mistake, lady. One I don't intend to repeat."

  "Kissing me is a mistake?" she asked weakly. Her voice cracked, but it was nothing compared to the crack his words chiseled in her heart. He was going to reject her again. She could feel it, dreaded it.

  "No, princess. God, no! Thinking I could kiss you once, then turn my back on you... that was my mistake. I've learned my lesson, though. I know better now. Once won't be enough for me. Not with you." He hesitated, willing himself to continue when he'd rather have kissed her again. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Amanda?"

  She nodded, but it was an unconvincing gesture. Jake's frustration mounted. Somehow, he had to make her understand the rules of this newer, more dangerous game they were playing—rules he wasn't sure he understood himself—and he had to do it quickly, before things went any further between them.

  "I'm only a human, lady. I can't... not just once... not with you... Damn!" For the first time in his life, Jake was tongue-tied. Jesus, the depths he'd sunk to! Maybe if he came right out and said what was on his mind? To hell with trying to coat the truth in sugary phrases. He'd never been good with words. And the way Amanda was gazing up at him, her lovely green eyes shimmering with sweet confusion, wasn't making this any easier.

  His grip on her tightened as he pushed the truth harshly past his lips. "I'm going to have you, Amanda Lennox. There's no stopping now. I'm going to do things to your body that you'd be too embarrassed to dream about. And you're going to do things to mine. We've both wanted this too long and too badly to hold back. The problem is... hell, what I'm trying to say is that one time with you isn't going to be enough for me. I'm going to want you in my bed again. And again. And I will have you there, again and again, for however many times it takes to work you out of my system. You have to know that up front. You have to go into this with those beautiful green eyes of yours wide open... the way I intend to go into you."

  Her hands lifted. She blanketed his roughened knuckles with her trembling palms. "What about me, Jake? Don't I have any say in this?"

  "No." The way he said it made Amanda think he acknowledged his answer only as he mouthed the word. "I don't think you do. I don't think I can let you have a say in it."

  "Pity. I'll have my say anyway." She hesitated, rolling her lips inward. Jake swallowed back a groan, knowing she had no idea how provocative the gesture was to him. "Did it never occur to you, that I might want you again?" Her gaze burned over his lips, her eyelids thickened slumberously. "And again?" Her lips parted oh, so softly, oh, so invitingly. "And again?"

  Her words rustled like a sweet summer breeze in his ears. It wasn't the prissy, sensible answer Jake had expected, had prepared himself to hear. His entire body convulsed, as though he'd sustained a crushing blow. His gaze shifted to where his fingers curled over her shoulder. Her neck was a mere fraction away from his fingertips. The contrast in color and texture—satin-soft and sandpaper-rough, burnt-copper and milky-white—was jarring. What he couldn't figure out was why, why that wasn't the stumbling block it should be?

  His eyelids hooded but in no way blotted out the intensity of his gaze. "It's wrong," he whispered, and the words felt like they'd been torn from his throat. It cut him up inside to think them, let alone say them aloud. Not that it made a difference. No matter what he said to Amanda now, no matter what she said to him, it wouldn't matter. Words couldn't stop him. He was beyond caring about logic and consequence. The sharp edges of reality had blurred to the white-hot need sluicing through him. "It's wrong for us to be together. You know that, don't you? Jesus, lady, tell me you know that!"

  "In your mind, Jake. Not in mine." With the tip of her index finger she ironed out the creases between his brows. His skin felt warm and smooth and wonderful. Would the rest of him feel this good? Amanda suspected it would, and she had a desperate need to prove the theory out. "The way you make me feel is right, Jacob Blackhawk Chandler. Very right. Very good. That's all I know, all I want or need to know."

  His spine went rigid. His jaw jutted up at a proud angle. At that moment, his silver eyes shimmering with restrained passion, his expression tight, Amanda thought he'd never looked more like the proud, untamed savage. The observation frightened her, but in a way it thrilled her, too.

  His gaze sliced downward. Steel grey meshed with luminescent green. "I want you," he said simply, harshly, as if those three words were all that mattered to either of them.

  They were all that mattered to Amanda. I want you were three words no one had ever said to her before. There were three other words she'd never heard, even from her father, but she knew instinctively that this man would not be the one to say them. Jake wanted her physically, the way she wanted and needed him, but that was all he wanted. It would have to be enough. He wouldn't give her more, and her pride demanded she not ask it of him. Because if he refused her, if he rejected her again...

  "Show me," she d
emanded huskily, even as she curled her arms around his neck and tugged. He remained stiff, unmoving, but only for a second. His posture loosened, and he bowed over her, around her, as though sheltering her with his body from the drizzling rain. His cheek caressed her temple. His hot breath blasted raggedly in her ear. The heat of it, of him, seeped into her skin, warming her flesh to a feverish degree.

  His hair fell forward over his shoulders. The damp, dark strands grazed Amanda's jaw as she turned, her mouth searching out his neck. She nuzzled the warm, earthy scented skin with her lips, and whispered huskily against it, "Show me how much you want me, Jake. Please, I need you to show me."

  Jake didn't need an invitation to take from this woman what, to his mind, had been his from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. But now that she'd given her permission, it dawned on him that he wasn't taking anything from her. At least nothing that wasn't freely given. It brought a subtle change to his perspective, added a complex aspect to an act that in past had always been very, very simple; an act that had once been driven only by physical necessity.

  Amanda Lennox wasn't for sale. What she offered, she offered freely. Damned if that gesture didn't touch Jake deeply.

  He slid from the white, still cradling Amanda close. His movements were slower, gentler than they would have been a few passion-fogged minutes ago. He carried her to a spot where two fallen tree trunks crossed, sheltering the earth beneath and keeping it relatively dry.

  Amanda sighed, and curled comfortably within the safe harbor of Jake's arms as he kicked prickly twigs and rocks aside. His heart drummed a wild beat beneath her ear. His breaths burned over her hair, seared into her scalp.

  Ingrained morals said she should be protesting right now, not surrendering. But Amanda was honest enough with herself to admit there would be no sense to that. She wanted this—wanted Jake—too badly to give social standing and racial barriers a thought. How could she? Jake's arms were cradling her to his hard chest, pinning her to him gently, as though she was a priceless, fragile piece of art that needed sheltering and protecting. His tenderness, so unexpected, touched her.