His contentment burned away the second her thick, honey-tipped lashes swooped up. Her green eyes, wide and questioning, held him prisoner.
A thousand words ran through Jake's mind, phrases that would make this first time easier for her. Easier for him. He didn't utter a single one. He couldn't. The anticipation he saw in her eyes clogged any words he might have spoken in his throat.
Her hands lifted, skimming his back before her fingers tangled in his long, dark hair. Her palms cupped his scalp, drawing his lips down to hers for a searing kiss. Only when their lips met did Jake's hips arch forward. Only then did he slowly, slowly enter the tight, warm core of her.
The barrier was broken as delicately as his feeding passion would allow. He felt her tense, and he captured her startled whimper with his mouth. His scalp burned from the pull of her fingers fisting his wet hair, but the pain didn't last long; it only seemed like it lasted forever. Soon, she relaxed. Soon, she began moving in an age-old rhythm beneath him.
Jake pushed forward, sliding into her fully. Only once he'd buried himself as far as he could go did he pause. A surge of emotion rocked through him. The strength of it made him shake.
The feeling was that of coming home.
Amanda moved restlessly, arching her hips upward, searching. Now that the initial pain was forgotten, she began to burn again. It was like a slow-building fire that sparked in her thighs, insistent and demanding. The warmth spiraled to her abdomen when Jake began moving atop her, moving inside of her.
His thrusts were smooth and unhurried, deep and long—and much too slow, as far as Amanda was concerned. She wanted a tempo to match the one drumming through her blood. She wanted fast and wild. She wanted more. Of Jake. Now.
She wrapped her legs around his hips. Her grip tightened, her hips eagerly met his as he plunged into her. She held him to her, deeply, until he groaned, shifted, almost withdrew, then thrust into her again.
And again.
And again.
The fire in her blood melted into the liquid heat of all-consuming passion. A need stronger than anything she had ever known before throbbed through her. It was aggravated beyond endurance by the way Jake's head dipped and his mouth and tongue suckled her neck. Her chin shot up, her head twisted atop the ground as, following her urgings, he quickened the pace.
"Remember," she murmured, his words coming back to her with breathtaking clarity, "once you've set the pace you can't let up or you'll have to start from scratch."
He laughed—softly, deeply, a sound that rocked Amanda to the core. His hands slipped beneath her back, holding her close. Their moist bodies slid together and apart and together once more. Flesh rubbed against hot, wet flesh.
Amanda's hands skimmed Jake's back in a smooth, downward stroke. She cupped his hips in her palms. Her fingers tunneled into flesh and muscle as she encouraged him to move faster still.
The feelings inside her were melting together—electric, building, just out of reach. No, just within reach. Her body arched to meet powerful thrusts and retreats. Each plunge was longer, deeper, fuller than the last. Each rise of her hips was bolder, more daring, more demanding. She felt herself tightening around him, felt minuscule spasms shudder up her spine, building and building. She was on the brink, the very precipice of...
What?
Jake had held himself back for as long as he could, but... dammit he was losing it. He couldn't wait much longer. She felt too good, too warm and tight and wet. Her body was milking a response out of him that he didn't want to give her, a response he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, hold back from her.
Think of it as like... making love.
He drove into her, his pace reaching a frantic pitch. Each thrust brought their chests into searing contact. He could feel her hardened nipples grazing against him, burning into his skin. He could feel her rapid, ragged breaths burning over him.
He wanted release. He wanted it right now. And, goddammit, he wanted it for both of them!
And what Jake Chandler wanted, Jake Chandler got.
The first tiny quivers of her tightening and releasing around him was the sweetest form of torture Jake had ever known. His control came damn close to shattering. White heat shot through him when he felt her arch, clinging to his back as she buried her face in his shoulder and cried out her pleasure.
That was all Jake had been waiting for. His hands searched the ground until he found hers. Their fingers locked, entwined, their grips white-knuckled and strained as his hips arched forward, his thrusts hard and demanding, the rhythm no longer smooth and controlled, just needy.
Amanda wrapped her legs higher around him, tightening, accepting, demanding all of him. Her body rippled around him as Jake filled her time and again. She groaned, shuddered, and felt the earth splinter around her.
Jake knew he'd waited too long. His intentions had been to make this first time feel so good she wouldn't think twice about doing it again. And again. And again.
Good intentions flew right out of his mind when he felt her sweet, hot spasms of satisfaction. He would have liked to wait, liked to bring her to that peak again and again, but he couldn't. Not this time. He had needs of his own that had been too long suppressed and refused to be denied a second longer.
Before he could suck in a breath, his body arched and he was speeding after her, a mere second behind. His climax came long and hard, feathering up his spine, bursting behind his tightly closed eyelids in a blinding haze of earth-shattering completion. He felt the culmination of their joining literally rip through his body, and spill into hers in a burst of liquid heat.
When it was over, when they both lay panting and spent, he groaned and slowly lowered himself atop her. Her body was a bed of soft, moist, feminine curves that welcomed his weight.
Jake was too weak to move. Too weak to breathe. In all his life, he'd never felt anything as depleting as what they'd just shared. Nor anything as good and right.
Home, he thought again as, with a weary sigh, he nuzzled his face against her neck. Making love to Amanda Lennox felt like coming home.
Chapter 12
"You all right?" Jake asked as, leaning to the side, he helped Amanda onto the white. His large, warm hands spanned her waist, positioning her between the hard wedge of his thighs.
"Yes, fine," she answered, knowing full well she'd just told the biggest lie of her life. Fine? Oh, no, she felt better than that. Much better.
"You're sure?"
"Positive," she said dreamily. "I'm... fine." Actually, what she felt came closer to giddy. Relaxed, unfettered, happier than she'd been in months. Make that years. Make that her entire life! Right now, she felt like she could conquer the world. Sighing in contentment, she leaned back and snuggled into the hard contours of Jake Chandler's chest. Not for the first time did she admire the way her body fit into his so nicely, so perfectly. The last time she'd found herself in this position, her blood had been hot with anticipation. While her blood was still hot, this time it was with an entirely different emotion. The feeling was contentment. Pure, physical gratification. It burned away every other emotion she'd ever felt before it.
The firm chest pressing into her spine and shoulders, the hard, corded legs flanking her outer hips and thighs, the arm molded around her waist and the palm possessively riding her thigh... not a single inch of Jake Chandler's body held any mystery for her now. Maybe that explained why even his simplest touch was more exciting now than it had been before. Maybe. Although Amanda thought it more likely her excitement stemmed from how... stimulating she now knew that touch could be.
Perhaps her outlook had changed because the look and feel of Jake was now stamped in her mind, on her palms, on her body. She no longer wondered what he felt like, she knew, and she couldn't forget! Sleek and warm and appealing—that was how Jake Chandler felt. Her desire to have his mouth on hers had been temporarily assuaged. So had other, baser cravings she hadn't known she had—until Jake had awakened them in her. She knew what it felt like to ha
ve his hands scouring her body. And she knew...
Well, she knew that what Jake looked and felt like was heaven. Even now, with clothing separating them, he felt good. Very good! Good enough to make Amanda's mind swerve, good enough for her thoughts to turn suggestive and hungry once more.
Again and again.
That was what he'd promised her. She clung to those words, replayed them in her mind. Her heart skipped when she thought of the next time with him, and the time after that.
Again and again.
The words sliced through Jake's mind like a warm knife through butter. He angled his head, and the underside of his jaw scraped the top of Amanda's head. Her hair felt damp and cool against his skin. At some point while he'd been busy satisfying his craving for this women the raindrops had begun to mix with snow. Amanda's hair was now dusted with it. So was his. Most of the flakes melted on contact, cooling passion-heated flesh, cooling passion-heated thoughts. Well, almost.
He glanced down, and noticed that Amanda's skirt was hiked up to midthigh so that she could ride astride.
Jake's vision filled with shapely, snow-moistened legs. She was only slightly tall for a woman, and most of her height was in her legs. They went on for miles, all long and slender and white. Perfectly shaped, the muscles firm, yet appealingly so.
His gut fisted when he remembered what it felt like to have those legs wrapped around his hips, urging him on, drawing him deeper and deeper into the hot velvet core of her. He gritted his teeth when he remembered how willingly he'd gone there, how willingly he'd picked up and quickened the pace that she had set.
That was a first. Jake had never before let a woman take the initiative during sex. Then again, with Amanda Lennox... well, what had happened between them couldn't be called mere sex. In this instance only, the term seemed too cold, too clinical, too dirty for his liking. But the term "making love" didn't fit, either. Or did it? God, he hoped not! "Making love" to a woman meant a certain amount of give and take. It meant a union of more than two bodies, more even than two minds. It meant...
Jake shifted uneasily. Making love. The phrase ran circles in his mind, hitting a raw nerve inside him. It was a term he rarely thought. Just the words made him uncomfortable, probably because they described an act he'd never participated in. Jake had never "made love" to a woman. Until now. Until Amanda.
Dammit! He could deny it all he wanted, but the fact was, he had made love to her. With Amanda Lennox, it wasn't just sex. As good as that had been, there was a hell of a lot more to it. He'd be lying if he said otherwise. There was something about her velvet-smooth touch, her petal-soft scent, her feathery kisses, that catapulted him over the need for physical gratification—strong as that need was—and made him crave something more. Something that was his alone. Something he could wrap his arms around and cling to. Something unattainable and forbidden.
That was what Jake wanted, more than he wanted to draw his next breath. He wanted Amanda Lennox, all of her, and he wanted her so much it hurt—more so now that he'd had her once. He wanted her, to coin a phrase, again and again. In every way imaginable. Yet he also wanted more than to leave his brand on her body. He wanted to burn himself into her soul as well.
The strength of that desire brought to mind the question of his sanity. Was he crazy? Yes, Jake thought, that was a good possibility. It would explain why he'd paid dozens of whores for his pleasure in the past and come away only mildly content. It would also explain why he hadn't paid Amanda Lennox a plugged nickel, yet he'd come away from her feeling like he'd gotten more than he'd bargained for. More than he knew how to deal with.
"Jake?" Amanda shifted, turned, nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder. His shirt felt cool and wet. She didn't mind. The skin beneath felt warm and solid, the play of muscles strong and firm. She sucked in a tiny breath and thought he smelled even more wonderful than he felt. His sharp, woodsy scent wafted around her, enveloped her, made her head spin.
"Jake?" she said again when he didn't answer. She glanced up, but at this angle all she could see was the strong, smooth underside of his chin. The urge to reach out and touch him was strong. She didn't bother trying to deny or repress it. Her palm cupped the hard, square line of his jaw. She felt him startle. "Jake?"
His gaze sliced down to her, over her, into her, then quickly returned to the snow-dusted woods through which they continued to pick their way. "Hmmm?"
"I want to apologize."
One inky brow rose. Those were not the words he'd expected a properly bred society snob would say to the man who'd just stolen her virginity. Amanda Lennox should, to his way of thinking, be having a fit right about now. Wasn't that what all well bred young "ladies" did? Begged a man, teased him until they'd brought him to his knees, then cried that he'd forced her afterward? Yes, that was exactly what ladies did. He knew.
But not this lady. Amanda wasn't reacting at all the way he'd expected her to. In fact, she seemed oddly pleased with the loss of her innocence. Instead of coy or fearful or repentant, she looked... well, downright rejuvenated, that's how she looked. And, Jake groaned inwardly, she also looked like she wanted to talk.
"Are you going to accept it?" she prodded.
"Accept what?"
Amanda sighed. Whatever he was thinking about was too distracting. She decided it was time to distract his mind back to her. Lifting one of her hands, she toyed with the buttons trailing up his shirt. Actually, she spent more time on the warm, silky flesh her fingers frequently slipped beneath the plackets to stroke.
"My apology, Jake," she said finally. "What else?"
What else? God, he could think of several dozen things he would gladly accept from this woman right now. Hot, hungry, lustful things. An apology wasn't one of them. He forced a shrug. "All depends, princess. What are you apologizing for?"
"All the terrible things I said to you back there, before we... you know."
"No, I don't know." The barest trace of a grin tugged at his lips as he slanted her a look. His steely gaze was teasingly hot. "Before we what?"
"You know!" she insisted. Her blush deepened. His grin broadened. Amanda huffed and turned so that her back was again cradled by his chest. "I really am sorry, Jake."
"Did you mean what you said?"
She thought about that a second, then nodded. "Yes."
"Then don't apologize."
"But—"
He sighed. "Drop it, Amanda. Please, just let it go."
Amanda strained against him, craning her neck to look into his face. His long, inky hair was dusted with snow, his skin wet from where the flakes had melted to his body heat. His thick, dark lashes were at half-mast, his steely gaze lazy and hooded. Only his expression looked tight and controlled: tense, anxious.
She stiffened warily. "Jake?"
"Hmmm?" Blinking hard, Jake forced his eyes to pull the snow-dusted woods into focus. He scowled when his attention dipped, and his gaze meshed with haunting green. Her eyes were large and round and confused. He shifted uncomfortably, and pretended to tug on the reins that tethered her horse to his.
"Are you...?" Amanda pulled in a steadying breath. Something wasn't right. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the muscle in his cheek twitch, and she took note of the way his body had gone rigid against hers. "You aren't sorry we... well, about what happened, are you?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, his voice a soft, throaty whisper. "I'm very sorry about it. You should be, too."
Amanda's bubble of contentment burst, pricked by the sharp bite in Jake's tone. She winced, feeling as though he'd just reached inside her and ripped out a chunk of her heart. In a way he had. A very large chunk. While she knew the logic behind his words—his reasons undoubtedly stemmed from their last argument—knowledge didn't make her feel better. He was sorry he'd made love to her... oh, how that hurt!
She wasn't the only one hurting. Jake was shocked to realize that he was hurting, too. What had happened between him and Amanda was special—Jesus, was it ever!—but it was also con
fusing as all hell. He needed time to sort out his feelings—whatever they were. Time to think. Time to put his unnatural desire for this woman into its proper perspective.
His gaze had settled on the top of her head. His attention shifted, focusing on the woods the white was weaving its way through. They were almost at the top of the hill. Soon they would crest it. In only a few short minutes he would leave Amanda at the cabin that neither of them had dared to mention for quite a while now. Only a few more minutes.
Jake knew there were things he should say to Amanda right now, while he still had the time. Words he didn't want to say, words she probably didn't want to hear, words that needed to be aired all the same. He should have said them a while ago, but he hadn't. Looking back, he realized that immediately afterward, neither of them had talked at all. It was as though they'd both clung to the same desperate need not to say anything that would shatter the contented afterglow. Amanda hadn't cried, hadn't begged him to make false promises that he would live to regret come sundown. Promises he could never hope to keep to a woman like her.
While they'd dressed, their gazes had met and held often. Quick, hungry glances had spoken all that needed to be said at the time.
Again and again, for as long as it lasts. That was what Amanda's eyes had promised, what Jake's urgent gaze had reinforced. That, and nothing else.
Passion had eventually thawed. Reality had returned.
Never, never again was what Jake's gut was telling him now, what the protective shell encasing his heart demanded. One quick, almost awkward encounter with Amanda had made all the women who'd come before her pale into insignificance. Jesus, even now when he closed his eyes and tried to picture a face or body beneath him, the only one he could see was Amanda's. He couldn't remember another's, didn't want to. Only hers.
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