“Kit,” he said against her lips as he tried to move his head.
She kept right on kissing him, knowing full well he was much stronger than her, and if he really, really wanted to stop her from kissing him, he already would have. Catching his bottom lip between both of hers, she lightly nibbled on it before she ran the tip of her tongue along the curvature of his mouth.
“Kit,” he said warningly as he grabbed her shoulders.
“Yes?” she whispered into his mouth, while running her fingertips down the front of his chest and around his sides.
He let out a low growl as his lips caught hers and then led them on a marvelous adventure of tasting. She clung to him as the excitement he instilled in her burst into life with renewed urgency.
By the time the kiss ended, she was warm and tingling from head to toe, and her insides had stirred up that unique desire where she craved something she couldn’t explain. A jolt of hot and molten excitement flared in her most private spots, and once again her breasts tingled, felt heavy and tight.
He was looking at her and breathing as heavily as she. After a moment he tugged the blanket over her shoulders again. “You—you should crawl under the covers. It’s going to get cold when the sun goes down.”
He wasn’t angry; she could tell that by his eyes. But the way his body tensed and the deep breath he took said he was battling against something. Another spark ignited in her. She leaned forward, but he jumped off the bed, started toward the door.
Disappointment flooded her. “Where are you going?”
“Just stay there, Kit,” he said, walking away.
Chapter Fourteen
Even though Kit was in the very back of the cave, Clay heard her pacing, and willed himself to stay right where he was, sitting on a rock, staring at the dying embers of the fire. One more kiss was all it would take, and he couldn’t let that happen. The world was full of tempting, alluring women.
But not one like her.
It was as if someone had drilled a hole and planted a stick of dynamite inside him. And then lit the fuse. It was exhausting, frustrating and downright thrilling.
Knowing what he knew should help him control such things. She’d barely been outside of Oscar’s house. Didn’t understand the complexities of men and women, and what kissing led to. There she was, as innocent as they came, and here he was, as randy as a stallion.
He loved her, had no doubt, and not acting on that love was worse than not loving. Picking up a pebble, he threw it among the coals, watched the sparks fly up and burn out, suspended in the air. The kiss she’d initiated inside the cave had shortened the burning wick inside him to a very dangerous stage.
“Clay?”
He shot to his feet so fast his back cracked.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, standing in the entrance.
“Are you hungry?” His voice sounded squeaky even to him.
“No.”
Unable to keep his distance, he walked over and leaned against the opposite wall. “What do you need?” That was a damning question if ever he’d asked one. It set all sorts of visions dancing in his head.
She pulled the blanket tighter beneath her chin and sat down against the rock wall. “You know that letter from Gramps?”
Perplexed, Clay moved closer and sat down beside her. “Yes.”
She let out a long sigh. “I understand things better now.”
His mind darted back to the bed, to before she’d kissed him. “You mean your mother?”
“Yes.”
Compassion struck him like a bullet. He laid a hand against the softness of her cheek. “You can’t take the blame for something that wasn’t your fault, Kit.”
She pressed her face into his palm. “I know.”
Clay’s heart swelled with care for her. His hand slid beneath her hair and caught her opposite shoulder, pulling her against him.
“Gramps said she loved my father so much she couldn’t stay in Chicago,” she said.
He rested a cheek on top of her head. “Yes, he did.”
She let out a long sigh. “I know how she must have felt.”
A quiver touched his spine. “You do?”
“Yes, I do.” She snuggled closer. “And I’m more like her than I knew.”
Clay closed his eyes, bracing himself. After the mine explosion, One Ear and Sam’s absence, she was ready to go home. He knew it would happen, and should have been better prepared.
“But I’m not like that other woman.”
His guts clenched, but then released just as quickly. “What other woman?”
“The one you built your house for.” He would have bounded to his feet, but she wrapped her fingers around his. “Tell me about her, Clay. Please.”
He was ready to get rid of that piece of his past, but couldn’t deny the trepidation at telling Kit. Yet she did deserve to know. He had to search his mind to remember what had happened. “Her name was Miranda and she was an actress in Denver. The opera house in Nevadaville had burned down, so I had it rebuilt, and then started building the house, but before either were finished she had an invitation to perform with a troupe in Paris.”
“Will she be back?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
He stared at the stars overhead, waiting to make sure his next words were completely true. They were. “If she does return to Colorado, it won’t matter to me.”
“Did you love her?” Kit asked.
“Miranda?” he asked, mulling over the question. “I thought I did, but now I know I didn’t. Not the way love should be.”
Kit tilted her head, gazed up at him with those brown eyes so full of affection he felt it flow through his veins. “How should it be?” she asked. “Love?”
He was lost. Utterly, hopelessly lost, and one hundred percent sure he’d never love another woman the way he loved this one. “Like this,” he whispered, leaning down to capture her sweet mouth.
Kit was besieged by the undemanding pressure of his lips. They were warm and moist, and moved against hers with a tender slowness that made her feel cherished and loved. She slipped her arms up and wrapped them around his neck, completely spellbound.
The gentle command of his tongue easing between her lips had her opening her mouth, and even then the kiss remained featherlight and precious. When Clay lifted his face, she had to work hard to make her eyes open. It was as if she were floating on a cloud somewhere.
“We can’t do this, Kit,” he whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. “I can’t do this.”
A profound instinct said he wanted her as badly as she wanted him, and she couldn’t understand why he fought it so strongly at times. “I won’t leave, Clay. I’m not leaving. Not tonight. Not ever.”
“You don’t know that, Kit. There may come a day when none of this, none of Colorado, is what you want.”
His frustration was so real she felt it inside her. In her very heart of hearts. Things she’d read about finding love, and had imagined were just tales, collected in her mind. Two become one repeated itself several times. That’s what had already happened. He was living in her heart. She reached up and ran a finger along the ridge of his chin. “Did you go after her? Look for her?”
He frowned. “Who?”
“Miranda.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because acting is what she wanted.”
Kit’s heart skipped a beat. She let her finger trail down his neck. “Silly woman. Do you want to know what I want, Clay?”
A little smile appeared on his lips. “A family.”
Her eyes misted. “Only if that family includes you.”
He shook his head slowly, but the shimmer in his eyes had her toes curling.
“You don’t know what you’re saying, Kit.”
She undid the top button on his shirt and kissed the hollow of his neck. “Yes, I do, Clay. I love you.” Her lips trailed the underside of his chin, then up and over the edge of his
jaw.
“It’s not that easy, Kit.”
“You’re the one who told me not everything in life should be hard. That some things should just fall into place as they were meant to be.” Catching his lips with hers, she combed her hands into his hair, sending his hat to the ground, and arched her back, pressing her breasts against the solid span of his chest. For as tender and sweet as his kiss had been, hers was just as soul-shattering. She felt him strain and struggle, and immersed everything she had in deepening the kiss until his lips parted and his arms tightened around her.
He took control then, driving the kiss until her very soul cried out for a release she knew only he could provide.
Gasping, he pulled his lips from hers. “We can’t do this.”
At some point during the embrace, she’d crawled onto his lap, now sat straddling his legs, with her skirt twisted around her thighs. She lowered her weight onto him and the feel of him sent the need swirling in her center to new heights. “Yes, Clay, we can. What we can’t do is keep fighting it. It’s going to happen. We both know that, and we both know it’s exactly what we want.”
“Kit,” he said once more, though it was more of a groan this time.
“Love me, Clay,” she whispered. “Love me the way love should be.”
He let out a low, electrifying growl, and grasped her hips, forcing the heat of their bodies to unite even through their layers of clothing. His kisses held her attention, until the next thing Kit knew, she was being lowered onto the bed in the back of the cave. She closed her eyes, surrendering completely as Clay slid her stockings down her ankles. Her dress was next and then her undergarments, leaving her with nothing but Clay’s glorious hands and mouth to warm her exposed flesh.
Warm her he did, by kissing and caressing her until she grew restless atop the covers. His mouth was on her breasts, licking and suckling, until the glorious sensations had a need inside her throbbing, begging for more. “Clay,” she said between gasps. “I feel as if I might explode, like that mine did.”
His husky chuckle made her hips pitch upward. One of his hands was between her thighs, teasing her womanhood with slow, delirious strokes. It was beyond imagining, beyond describing.
She buried her hands in the covers, not knowing what else to do with them, and rode wave after wave of newfound pleasures that had her wanting to moan. The ache inside her was undeniably fierce and fiery, yet sweet and promising.
Growing frantic, she locked her hands onto the sides of his face, dug her fingers into his hair and pulled his head up, where her lips could catch his. He kissed her over and over, and while she was fully participating, her tongue swirling with his, her hands moved to his shirt, tugging open the buttons and pushing it from his shoulders.
He eased off her then, and Kit tried to catch her breath, but watching the outline of his figure, the shimmer of his skin as he shed his clothing, only had her yearnings screaming louder.
When he bent over the bed, she raised both arms, welcoming him with her heart, body and soul. “I thought you’d never return,” she whispered, as her hands slid across his bare shoulders to latch on to the back of his neck.
“I was wrong, you know,” he whispered back, kissing the side of her neck.
“Wrong about what?” she asked, half wondering how she was supposed to carry on a conversation at a time like this.
“You.” His husky chuckle tickled the tender skin over her collarbone.
“Me?”
“Yes, when I said you could tempt the devil out of hell.”
She sucked in air through her nose as his tongue licked her nipple, leaving her feverish breast desperate for more. “How so?”
“You are worse than that. You could tempt a saint out of heaven.”
Elated by everything, his hands, his mouth, his whisper, she let out a tiny giggle. “Oh, and tell me, Mr. Hoffman, are you the devil or a saint?”
He licked his way to her other breast. “Well, Miss Becker,” he said teasingly. “Which do you prefer?”
Kit couldn’t answer. The havoc of his mouth taking its fill of her breast was too great to speak through, and she couldn’t even comprehend all the things his fingers were doing between her thighs.
When the commotion ebbed for a moment, as he shifted his length above her, she glided her fingertips along the muscles bulging beneath the skin of his upper arms, and then slid her hands around his back. “Whichever one I’m holding in my arms right now.”
They became one then. His entrance was slow and steady, easing into her gently as his eyes held hers with a loving gaze. It was profound and stunning. She lifted her hips, wanting all he had to give.
Her breath wedged in her lungs as a sharp sting caught her unaware.
He paused, looking at her keenly.
She grasped his backside and pressed her hips harder against his. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” she begged, somehow knowing he could erase the pain.
His mouth captured hers, made her forget everything except the tumult leaping back into life between them as he moved inside her. She gave in to the astounding sensations, riding the steady, gentle pace he set. Every time the connection deepened, she thrust her hips upward, made dizzy by the commotion building in her veins.
Clay’s kisses continued, and the vibrations his mouth caused mingled with those swirling in her torso until the two became one and grew into a passion that consumed her entire being. The chaos swelled, became larger than anything she’d ever known, filling her with a great obsession of love and need that was capable of carrying her away.
Clutching him, praying she wouldn’t float off into some unknown world, she rode surge after surge of delight that stole every last sense she had.
Then, with a startling awareness, she cried out, “Clay!” as a shattering rent split the pressure inside her. The resulting pleasure was immense, and intensified by a number of tinier bursts, spewing delight through her body as he stiffened and shuddered against her, while repeating her name over and over.
She welcomed his weight as he relaxed upon her, and tightened her hold as a great wave of bliss washed over her.
He moved, easing his weight from her, and Kit, not ready to release him, followed his roll, snuggling into the heat of his body with complete contentment.
“Clay,” she said, moving nothing but her lips.
“Hmm?”
The smile on her face couldn’t have grown any larger, but felt as if it did. She was complete and spent, and that had her ready to share the understanding she’d found earlier. “This is why my mother left Chicago.” She tilted her head to gaze at him.
A frown formed as he opened his eyes. “What?”
“She left because living without my father was too painful. I know, because that’s how I feel about you.”
He stiffened, but his hold tightened, crushing her to his side.
“I don’t ever want to live without you.” She slid on top of him, to look directly into his face. The handsome, handsome face she wanted to look at every day. All day. Wiggling, positioning her body perfectly atop his, she said, “And I want to do what we just did over and over again. Until the end of time.”
The following morning, Clay, sharing a pot of coffee with Kit by the fire, was marveling at how he could feel so rested and refreshed on such little sleep, yet be more confused than a mule with eight legs. He wanted to kick himself in the ass at the same time as he wanted to haul Kit right back into Sam’s bed.
That was not going to happen. He was in love with her, and wanted to marry her, but asking her to stay out here … he couldn’t do that. She’d never lived anywhere except Chicago. Then there was the will. If she married before she turned twenty-one, she’d lose her inheritance. Furthermore, what they’d done last night had other consequences—pregnancy. He should never have let it happen.
Letting Oscar down—which was ultimately what he’d done—ate at Clay’s conscience. The man had trusted him with his most cherished possession.
A thu
nder of hooves had him looking up to where Jake Hoover, one of the miners, bounced on the back of an ore car mule. “Telegraph arrived. Sam was spotted over by Georgetown.”
“Georgetown?”
“Yup. Want to send some more men that way?”
Clay shook his head. “No, I’ll—” Kit clearing her throat had him changing it to “We’ll go.”
Less than half an hour later, with saddlebags packed from Sam’s never-ending supply of beans and peaches, he and Kit rode away from the cave, toward Georgetown, following what Clay knew was the shortcut Sam always used.
Clay had completely given up any thoughts of asking Kit to remain behind. For one, she was too stubborn, plus he didn’t want her anywhere but at his side. He would just have to learn to control himself. Not have a repeat of last night.
They rode all day, cross-country on the little-worn trail, without finding Sam, as he’d hoped. That night when they laid down their bedrolls, Clay fought the urge to merge his with hers. They’d slept across the fire from one another once before—and parts of him wished she was dressed as Henry, with that bagful of fish guts again.
Long after they’d bedded down for the night, he was staring at the stars above, trying hard not to think of the night before, when a soft whisper hit his ears.
“Clay? Are you sleeping?”
“No,” he answered gruffly from his spot several yards on the other side of the small fire.
“Oh,” Kit replied, with chagrin in her tone.
Sighing at the frustration eating at him, he asked, “What did you need?”
“Nothing,” she whispered. “I was just cold.”
Glancing up, seeing her standing next to him, he held the corner of his blanket up for her to slide under. She did, tossing her own blanket over top his as she snuggled up next to him, nuzzling his neck with the tip of her nose.
When her fingers made their way inside his shirt, he whispered, “Don’t, Kit. We need to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be another long day.”
To his disappointment—though he tried hard not to admit it—her hand stilled. But soon, as the wind rustled the trees into a soft melody, just holding her was torture. He shifted, but that just had her snuggling closer. She nipped and nibbled on his neck, and then suckled the area, sending a jolt through him. Her hands under his shirt were moving again, driving him wild by playfully dipping into the waistband of his britches. He held his breath for a moment, fighting to find fortitude.
Inheriting a Bride Page 22
