Wild Desire

by Cassie Edwards

  “It is unwise of him to leave you alone for an entire night,” Runner said. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have returned to my hogan last night. I would have stayed with you.”

  A thrill ran through Stephanie. “You would have?” she said softly.

  “But not only to guard you from harm,” Runner said, pulling her closer.

  “Why else?” Stephanie said, her knees growing weak with passion.

  “You need to ask?” Runner said huskily. He lowered his mouth to her lips and gave her a frenzied kiss.

  Stephanie twined her arms around Runner’s neck. Her heart throbbed and the delicious spiraling need that she had felt before returned. Yet a warning sounded in her mind, reminding her of where she was, and who might come in her private car at any moment. Adam had the habit of not knocking.

  But when Runner gathered her up into his arms and carried her from the darkroom and took her to her bed, all worries of Adam—of everything but this wild desire that was pulsing heatedly through her blood—were gone from her consciousness.

  Lying on the bed, the ribbon gone from her hair and her clothes discarded, as well as Runner’s, Stephanie reached her arms out and smiled as he knelt down over her, the pulsing need of his manliness resting hard and heavy on her thigh. She opened her legs to him and received him inside. Closing her eyes, she gasped with pleasure as he began his rhythmic thrusts within her.

  The room was bathed in a golden sheen as the morning sun streamed through the windows. Stephanie was caught up in a web of wondrous ecstasy, lost to time, to caution, to any senses, except for those being ignited within her as she clung to Runner. At this moment in time, he—only he—was her universe.

  Adam was only a fleeting thought as his face flashed before Stephanie’s mind’s eye. The idea that he might come in and find her with Runner in the throes of passion was lost to her in the rapture that was overwhelming her.

  Chapter 13

  Love’s a fire that needs renewal of

  fresh beauty for its fuel.

  —THOMAS CAMPBELL

  Stephanie’s nipples hard against his palm, Runner reveled in the feel of her firm, silky breasts. He pressed his lips to her throat, his hips thrusting against her in a steady rhythm. He could feel the warmth spreading, passion curling, then unfurling like hot flames through him.

  Stephanie clung to him, ecstasy moving with bone-weakening intensity, her breasts tingling as his hands caressed them. She moaned as Runner’s breath stirred her hair, and then he captured her lips beneath his in a kiss that awakened her wild desire to its full intensity.

  She returned his kiss with wildness and desperation and wrapped her legs around his hips, enabling him to move more freely within her.

  His tongue sought hers between her parted lips. She flicked her tongue against his and trembled as one hand moved down over her ribs, across her stomach, which quavered in the wake of his fingers, and then down to her moist channel, where the center of her desire lay, waiting for his caress.

  Stephanie experienced agony and bliss when he began caressing her tight bud with his fingers while he still moved within her, powerfully, wonderfully, causing her whole body to feel as though it was fluid with fire.

  His mouth left hers and his tongue moved along her flesh, from the hollow of her throat, to one of her breasts, and Stephanie rolled her head with pleasure. She bit her lower lip as he pressed his lips against her breast, moving them over her abundant nipple, drawing the taut peak between his teeth.

  Stephanie was overcome by an unbearable sweet pain. She ran her hands over him, down the full length of the tight muscles of his back, stopping to splay them over his hips. She clung to him, yearning for the promise of what his body was offering her.

  Again he kissed her with fire. He placed his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her closer. Sweat pearled on Runner’s brow, the air heavy with the inevitability of pleasure. Each stroke that he took within her was bringing him closer to fulfillment.

  He caught his breath, feeling the heat rising, spreading, and then splashing through him like wildfire. He burrowed his face against the soft skin of Stephanie’s neck and groaned out his pleasure.

  In tune with Runner’s feelings, and seeking her own rapturous release, Stephanie tumbled over the edge into ecstasy with him. She cried out against his shoulder, the spinning sensation flooding her whole being as surges of intense pleasure swept through her.

  Their shudders subsided into a quiet peace. Runner rolled away from her. Stephanie turned to him and kissed his brow, first one cheek, and then another, then feathered a kiss across his lips.

  “I’ve never been happier,” she whispered, turning to cling to him. “Let’s not allow anything to spoil what we have found together. Please, Runner.”

  The sudden thuds of sledgehammers burying more spikes into the ground as the work gang arrived outside, to lay more tracks, made Stephanie stiffen. Her eyes widened and she drew a blanket around her. She had forgotten the time of day. She had forgotten her brother.

  “Adam,” she said, looking quickly over at Runner. “He could arrive home at any moment.”

  A cold barrier slammed down between them again at the mention of Adam’s name. Stephanie scarcely breathed as Runner scowled at her, then rose and began dressing.

  Adam awakened with a start. Momentarily disoriented as to where he was, he blinked his eyes nervously. Fear struck at his heart when he looked around and discovered that he was in a Navaho hogan.

  A soft hand trailing down his back in light, tender caresses made him tremble with renewed passion as he remembered with whom he had spent the night, and in whose hogan this passionate love had been made.

  Pure Blossom.

  She had led him there under the cover of darkness the previous night. He had spent almost the entire night making love to her; she was initiating another round of lovemaking with him now. She crawled to his side and leaned low over him, her long, lustrous hair rippling along his flesh in the wake of her lips and hands.

  He inhaled a breath of rapture and closed his eyes, unaware that the translucence of darkness and the blaze of the stars had left the sky. The only light in the hogan was the glow of the embers in the fireplace. The only true fire was in his loins, spreading into something fiercely hot as Pure Blossom’s mouth sought his throbbing member, her tongue flicking along its tight stem.

  “Oh, God,” Adam moaned, wondering how he could ever leave this woman that had awakened him to such complete passion, unlike anything he had felt while bedding whores in the past.

  He stretched his legs apart and spread his arms out on each side of him, his eyes closed to the pleasure that was engulfing him.

  When he felt as though he could not take any more of this wonderful punishment, he placed his hands to Pure Blossom’s waist and turned her over, onto her back. He kissed her breasts, her stomach, and then moved over her and thrust himself deeply within her.

  His hands cupped her breasts. “I love you,” he whispered against her parted lips, then ground his mouth into her lips, taking all the sweetness from her that she was willing to give.

  Pure Blossom clung to him, tears of joy spreading down her cheeks. She had never thought that any man would desire her, much less love her so intensely. She would not allow herself to think about how her father felt about Adam, nor her brother. Adam was hers. No one would be allowed to take him from her.

  The sound of voices and the laughter of children outside Pure Blossom’s hogan drew Adam’s lovemaking to a quick halt. He looked frantically toward the door, then into Pure Blossom’s eyes.

  “It’s morning,” he said, his voice edged with fright. “Does anyone ever come to your hogan in the morning? My horse.... Pure Blossom, what if someone finds it?”

  Pure Blossom placed her hands on his cheeks. “No one comes to Pure Blossom’s hogan very often,” she reassured. “Everyone knows that I work best this time of day. And no one disturbs me when I weave my beautiful blankets. As to your horse—do you not reme
mber how well hidden it is? No one will ever find it.”

  “Pure Blossom, it’s daylight,” Adam said, again glancing toward the door. “How in the hell am I going to get out of your hogan without being seen?”

  She turned his face around so that their eyes could meet again. “My sweet white man, you do not leave the hogan while it is daylight,” she said, giggling. “Stay. Spend the day with me. We can make love, eat, talk, and make love again. Tonight, when the dark shadows fall around our little world, I will go with you to your horse.”

  Adam’s heart pounded as he looked into her beautiful, innocent eyes and her delicate features. What she suggested was very tempting.

  He hesitated a moment longer, then laughed loosely. “All right,” he said, framing her face between his hands, bringing her lips to his. “I will stay. How could anyone want to leave, ever?”

  He was not worried about Stephanie. She would think that he was with Damon, or in Gallup. She was used to his shenanigans. But he knew that she would never suspect that this time the woman he was bedding was Navaho.

  He laughed softly against Pure Blossom’s lips, then kissed her hard and long, as once again he moved himself within her. Their moans intermingled. Their hands discovered each other’s sensitive, secret spots.

  When Pure Blossom’s hair had fallen aside and he had seen the lump growing at the base of her neck, even that had not repelled him. To Adam, everything about Pure Blossom was perfect. Magnificently perfect.

  He loved her. With all of his heart, he loved her.

  Sage had been awakened at dawn with the news that several horses had been stolen from the corral. He was sitting tall and straight on his strawberry roan as he sought out tracks in the mixture of dirt and sand beneath his horse’s hooves. This search had carried him not all that far from the village until tall bluffs began shadowing him.

  His eyes flashed angrily when he soon lost the tracks. They had seemed to disappear into the wind. He drew a tight rein and gazed up at the bluff above him and then at the sloping trail that led upward. If he went up there, perhaps he could see the horse thieves in the distance as they herded the horses along with them.

  There were no signs as to when the horses had been stolen. If it had been just before daylight, the thieves would not have gotten so far that he would not be able to see them across the straight stretch of land in the far distance.

  He turned to his braves. “Stay,” he ordered. “I will go and take a look from the bluff.”

  Holding his reins steady, he urged his steed up the winding trail. When it leveled off to the first ledge, he shielded his eyes with a hand and stared across the land, grumbling to himself when he saw nothing.

  “I shall go higher,” he whispered to himself.

  He wheeled his horse around and went in a slow, cautious trot up the other trail until once again it leveled off to another straight stretch of rock and sparse grass. He started to ride to the edge of the bluff, but drew a tight rein and stopped his horse, puzzled over having found a horse that had been left there, tethered and partially hidden.

  Dismounting, he went over to the horse and patted its rump, then ran his hands down its withers as he studied it. “There is something familiar about this animal,” he said to himself.

  He threw open the saddlebags. Reaching inside, he found a small journal. He didn’t get any farther than the first page, where Adam’s signature loomed up at him like some ghastly apparition.

  He grew cold and numb as he then studied the horse more carefully. His jaw tightened and his eyes lit with fire, and angrily thrusting the journal back inside the saddlebag, he stamped to the edge of the bluff and looked at the hogans of his village in the distance.

  “There can only be one reason he has hidden his horse this close to my village,” he growled out. “It would not be to spy, for I would have seen him. Pure Blossom. He is with Pure Blossom.”

  He had seen the instant attraction between his daughter and Adam. He had not thought to warn his daughter about him, for he had thought that she had seen for herself the sort of man he was.

  And taking a man to her hogan was not a normal thing for his daughter to do. As far as Sage knew, she was still a virgin.

  But Sage had seen a charm about Adam that might fool Pure Blossom into believing that he truly cared. She was so vulnerable. She had not experienced being in love before her.

  He looked heavenward and said a soft, desperate prayer to the Great Unseen Power. “Let me be wrong,” he whispered.

  Hate racing through his veins, he grabbed Adam’s horse’s reins and took it with him from the bluffs. Without giving any of his braves an explanation, he rode off hard toward his village, Adam’s steed trailing behind him on a rope. He did not stop until he was at Pure Blossom’s hogan.

  “Pure Blossom!” he shouted, not having yet dismounted. He feared going into the hogan. He feared he would tear Adam’s heart out if he found him making love to his precious daughter. “Daughter, come out here and face your father.”

  Sage was unaware of the silence that had fallen around him, and that his people were staring and edging closer, puzzled over a father who was enraged with a daughter everyone knew he cherished.

  Inside the hogan, Adam and Pure Blossom fell away from each other, eyes wide, hearts pounding.

  “My father,” Pure Blossom said, drawing a blanket quickly around her nudity. “And he is angry.” Her eyes wavered. “He must know you are here.” She swallowed hard. “But how?”

  When Sage shouted her name again, she turned from Adam, whose face was ashen. Frightened, guilty, and meek, clutching to her blanket for dear life, she stepped outside and gazed up at her father.

  His daughter’s behavior told Sage all that he needed to know. He dismounted and brushed past her, entering her hogan. Rage filled him when he found Adam scampering into his breeches, his eyes wild and frightened.

  Sage grabbed Adam by the throat and half lifted him from the floor. “I could kill you with my bare hands,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “And I will if you ever approach my daughter again.” He felt sick to see the rumpled blankets on his daughter’s bed.

  With a force that sent Adam flying across the hogan, Sage hit Adam, then stamped toward the door. He feared the anger seething inside him, knowing that if he stayed another moment with Adam, he would kill him.

  He turned and gave Adam one last warning look. “Don’t ever get near my daughter again and never come near my village,” he said tightly. “You have shamefully used my daughter for your own greedy, white man’s gain.”

  Adam reached a hand out to Sage. “No,” he cried. “That’s not the way it is at all. I love your daughter.”

  This made Sage even angrier. He took a step toward Adam, but was stopped when Pure Blossom came into the hogan and stood between them.

  “Father, please don’t,” she cried. “Please!”

  Adam took the opportunity to escape. He grabbed up the rest of his clothes and ran outside, not surprised to find his horse tied to Sage’s—the source of the discovery of their liaison.

  His fingers trembling, he thrust his clothes into the saddlebag. Clothed only in his breeches, he swung himself into the saddle. Humiliated and angry, he spun his horse around and rode away, people scattering to make room for him.

  Sage turned to Pure Blossom. There was much that he wanted to say to her, although his warnings had come too late. But he knew that she had been humiliated enough today. He gently took her into his arms and hugged her.

  Pure Blossom sobbed as she clung to him, yet she could not find it inside her heart to tell him that she was sorry. She wasn’t. Adam had awakened her to feelings that she perhaps would have never known. She would cherish them. She would cherish and relive those moments with him until the day she died.

  “Adam is hogay-gahn, bad,” Sage said, his voice drawn. “You are good. You are not meant to be together.”

  He eased away from her and gave her a lingering look, then left.

 
Pure Blossom threw herself onto her bed and cried, hugging the blankets upon which she had made love.

  “Adam,” she sobbed. “My Adam.”

  Chapter 14

  If thou lovest me too much,

  ’Twill not prove as true a touch;

  Love me little more than such.

  For I fear the end.

  —ANONYMOUS

  Stephanie and Runner rode along an old oxcart trail, the pack mule trailing behind them. Stephanie looked over at Runner. “I truly appreciate you being here with me.”

  She waited for him to respond, growing more tense when he didn’t. He continued looking straight ahead, as though she weren’t there.

  “Runner, please tell me what’s the matter,” she said. “Back at the train, everything was so beautiful between us until I mentioned Adam. I didn’t know that your feelings about him ran this deeply.”

  “Adam is a stranger to me now,” Runner said, giving Stephanie a scowl. “Many years have passed since we shared a friendship. Those years changed Adam into someone with whom I could not be a friend.”

  “But, darling, you knew that before we made love,” Stephanie said. She shifted her horse’s reins from one hand to the other. “Why did the mention of his name have to ruin what we share? Although Adam is my brother, he and I do not always agree on everything. I never allow his opinions to overshadow mine.”

  “And I admire that in you,” Runner said, his lips moving into a soft smile. “And I am sorry that I allowed my bitter feelings about Adam to come between us.”

  He paused and again stared straight ahead, into the distance. “You see, my feelings for Adam run deeper than those of my father,” he said thickly. “I resent Adam for being here with plans that will put more hardships on the Navaho. But it is the friendship that we had as children that bothers me. Through the years I had hungered to be with my friend Adam again. My mother told me more than once that it would happen.”