by Lisa Cooke
He kissed her. There.
He nuzzled his mouth through her chemise way too low to have been a mistake. She gasped and attempted to step back, but his hands on her hips refused to let her escape.
“No, baby,” he whispered, and she felt the heat of his words clear inside her body. “Don’t run from me.”
He slid his hands around to the front of her thighs and shoved the chemise up her body until he uncovered his treasure. A voice in her head insisted she shouldn’t let him do this, but when his mouth settled, she grabbed his shoulders instead.
A pulsating madness spread from the warmth of his lips, and a throaty groan ripped from her body in response. The voice in her head yelled at her now. Something that felt this good shouldn’t be allowed, but when she tried to speak, he lifted her and carried her to the bed.
The remainder of his clothing was gone in a flash, and before she could say a word, he was buried between her thighs once more. Only this time, the voice in her head groaned right along with the rest of her. He toyed with her. Stroking her and rubbing places that caused her to throb as before, but now the need was so intense it frightened her.
“Dyer?” she gasped, begging for release.
She squirmed her hips to move away from him, but his grip tightened, refusing to allow her to retreat. She arched her back and yelled as he slid up her body and finally drove into her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding tight as his rocking thrusts scooted her across the bed, and the shattering spasms that squeezed the part of him still inside her left her shaking and stunned.
Somewhere in the midst of her earth-shattering release, he found his own and, despite the quivering of his body, he managed to roll to his back before he collapsed.
They both stared up at the ceiling and waited for the shudders to stop before he finally muttered, “Holy shit.”
She giggled. She should scold him for his profanity, but for once he had summed it up perfectly, and if she weren’t a lady, she would’ve echoed his sentiment exactly.
Then suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. It just dawned on her that she was no longer a lady. She had given him her virginity—twice.
Well, maybe not the virginity part, but she had given him her body, and even though she had done it willingly, she now realized no other man would want her.
Just as well.
She wouldn’t want any others anyway. Turning toward him, she took a deep breath, deciding she had nothing to lose.
“I love you,” she said.
He laid his hand against her face and gazed into her eyes. “And I love you too damn much to be healthy.”
“Then why did you leave me?”
Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed the palm before he pressed it against his chest. “My wife and son died because of me.”
“That’s not—”
Dyer placed his finger against her lips to silence her. “If I hadn’t fought for the North, Dawson would not have sought out my home.” He paused for a moment before he continued, “and they would be alive.”
She held her tongue. She wanted to convince him he was wrong, but a part of her understood his logic.
“When I saw Dawson holding that gun against your throat, I thought it was going to happen all over again. Another woman I loved was going to die because she trusted me to protect her and I failed. When it ended and he was dead, I convinced myself you would be better off to put your faith in someone else. At the time, it seemed easier not to love, then to chance going through that hell again.”
“And now?”
He pulled her closer into his embrace. “And now I realize there are different kinds of hell. These last two weeks have proven that.”
“Would you ever have come looking for me?”
He chuckled, and the rumble of his chest beneath her fingers felt comforting. “Eventually, I suppose I would have. But with my luck, some other man would’ve snatched you up before I’d come to my senses. Then I would’ve had to kill him.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t have, would you?”
“Hard tellin’. Let’s just say it’s a good thing you found me first—else I could’ve ended up in prison instead of in your bed.”
Snuggling against his body, she drew her finger down his chest to his belly. “I don’t think you would have enjoyed it nearly as much.” His quick intake of air confirmed her suspicion. “But are you still afraid I’m going to die?”
“Probably always will be, but I think I’m more afraid that without you, I’m going to die.” He tipped her chin up with his finger and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I believe the way to solve this dilemma is if you marry me, so I’ll always be close by.”
Love swelled up in her heart. “I think I can manage that.”
“Good, ’cause the way I’ve got it figured, it’s the only way I can stay somewhere in the same vicinity as my balls.”
“I’m not sure I understand—”
He interrupted her with a kiss. “It’s all right, Miss Mace. I’m not sure I understand either.”
Then he kissed her again, and she decided he could explain it later. After all, she still needed to find out if the third time really was a charm . . .
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special thanks to my editor, Leah Hultenschmidt, for her patience and expertise; my wonderful friends at COFW for their advice and support; and my husband, Henry, the hero of all my stories.
Copyright
LEISURE BOOK®
April 2009
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016
Copyright © 2009 by Lisa Cooke
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E-ISBN: 978-1-4285-0649-7
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