by Heidi Betts
She should be embarrassed, but she wasn't. At least not enough to call a halt to what was happening. She'd waited too long. And wanted it too much.
She must have made some sound, some small noise, because David raised his head. Their eyes met and he smiled. Then he wrapped his arms around her. Not just his hands, but the full length of his arms from shoulder to wrist. His chest pressed against hers until not a wisp of air separated them. His elbows hugged her waist, his forearms cradled her back, and his hands kneaded the muscles just below her nape.
Lifting her off the bed, he held her close, kissing her neck and leaving a trail of moisture from where his tongue darted out here and there.
He held her off the ground with his body and she worried that the added weight would tear open his gunshot wound, although it had been healing nicely this past week.
"David,” she murmured. Her entire being felt too languid to manage even that much, but she needed to say something. “Your side."
"You're light as a feather, notsa?ka?,” he whispered back, his lips spending an inordinate amount of time nipping and sucking at the pulse point of her throat. “Don't worry about it."
"But. . ."
Before she could utter more, he swept her up and tossed her high in the center of the bed, near the headboard. She gave a small squeak of surprise, but he quickly followed her down, one knee between her legs, hushing her with the almost smothering sensation of his overwhelming breadth and presence.
"Is that better?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.
She grinned. “A little."
One brow quirked upward. “Only a little? What else should I do?"
She shrugged a shoulder, letting her gaze skitter away bashfully. “I'm not sure. You're the one who's supposed to be showing me how this works, remember?"
"What do you want to know?” he asked in a low, husky voice.
Reaching up, she looped her arms about his neck. “Everything."
Chapter Fifteen
Their mouths met in a soft, tender kiss, and when he pulled away, he said, “If you want to know everything, this will have to go."
She followed his gaze to where he held a fistful of purple taffeta. Her bodice had long ago been flung to the floor. She was half-naked and lying underneath a fully naked man. Losing her skirt would be nothing compared to that.
It surprised her to realize she felt not a whit of apprehension over the idea, either. She was completely comfortable with David, trusted him wholeheartedly. With her body, her feelings, and her life.
Arching her hips off the mattress, she reached behind herself to loosen the skirt's ties. With David's help, she shucked out of the voluminous layers. Slipping the garment off her heels, he tossed it aside to join the rest of their discarded clothing.
Hannah waited, watching breathlessly as David's gaze scoured her frame. From head to toe and back again, he studied her, his eyes coming to rest on the apex of her thighs.
Of course, she was still wearing the simple, homemade drawers she'd kept on when he'd first made her change into the gown she'd originally thought of as the purple atrocity. She was now coming to actually appreciate the garish thing, along with the sleek stockings that had been balled up with it. They were a far cry more comfortable than her sturdy linen stockings, which by this time had any number of holes and snags running through them.
One silk stocking was still rolled all the way up her leg, held in place high on her right thigh by a buff-colored garter with a small pink rosette sewn into the outer edge. Her left leg, however, was practically bare, the stocking still flopping around her ankle, the remaining garter holding up nothing but air.
David slipped the tip of an index finger beneath the fabric, running his hand back and forth between the snug, lacy material and the sensitive, never-before-touched-by-man skin.
"Very nice. Is this what you showed the fellow who came here earlier looking for us?"
"You told me to,” she countered pointedly.
I know. I'm just surprised he could bring himself to leave after getting a glimpse of these gorgeous limbs.” His finger snapped out from under the pliant band and ran at a snail's pace down the length of her leg. Along the outside of her thigh, into the dip of her knee, over the rise of her calf muscle, to her ankle.
"Mind if I take this off?” he drawled.
His eyes rose to meet hers and all she could do was shake her head. Her mouth had gone dry as the Chihuahuan Desert the minute his perusal had begun.
So slowly Hannah had to bite her tongue to keep from demanding he move faster, David slipped the crumpled-up stocking off her heel. Returning to her thigh, he found the tiny strings of the garter and began unfastening them.
Now one long ruffle, with ties at either end, he laid the strip of lace on her belly and trailed it along her torso. He brought it up and around the curve of her breast, then left it there like the frilly trimming of a fancy decolletage.
He grinned, kissing the underside of that breast before doing the same with the gaiter from her right leg. Once both articles decorated her otherwise naked chest, he began rolling down the remaining stocking.
He was driving her crazy. His actions were drawn out nearly to her breaking point, making the fine hairs all over her body stand on end in sweet anticipation of what he would do next, where his hands would caress next.
With the second stocking, he agonized her even more by pressing his lips to the small portion of skin he exposed each time he rolled the diaphanous silk farther down. Roll an inch, kiss. Roll an inch, kiss.
She wiggled and moaned, begging him to hurry, threatening to finish the task herself if he didn't. But he merely graced her with a devilish, knowing smile and continued the torture.
When he got to her foot, he peeled the stocking the rest of the way off and kissed the inside of her ankle. Then the top of her foot, then the arch, then each toe in turn. Her toes curled involuntarily under his ministrations, and she tried yanking her leg back, but he tightened his grip on her calf, holding her in place.
Hannah didn't just groan this time, she growled. “Aren't you ever coming back up here?” she bit out in frustration. “You're driving me crazy, taking so long."
He looked at her through long, sable lashes, lips caressing the side of her foot. “Now you know what you do to me,” he informed her. “And patience is a virtue, notsa?ka?. Don't you like the way I'm touching you?"
"I like it too much. I want you to kiss me again."
"I am kissing you.” To prove his point, he pressed his lips to a spot near the ridge of her toes.
"Not there” she protested. “Here.” She gestured toward her mouth like a child beckoning for a peppermint stick.
Leisurely, David crawled his way up her body, moving one hand and then the other along the mattress and pulling his great weight after him. When he reached her stomach, he stopped.
"Where did you want me to kiss you? Here?” And he kissed the gentle slope of her abdomen, his warm breath tickling the tight curls at the apex of her thighs.
"Or here?"
He dipped his tongue into the hollow of her navel, causing her to moan and arch her back up off the bed.
"No, that's not it,” he muttered, his voice growing gravelly. Drawing himself up a few inches more, his mouth moved to the side of her right breast. “Here?” He kissed her left breast, a hairbreadth from the beaded peak that ached and strained for his attention. “Maybe here. Or maybe. . ."
He hovered over her, his face directly above her own. “I remember now,” he all but whispered a moment before his mouth came down on hers. “Here."
He kissed her until her body grew heavy and her bones felt no more substantial than the wings of a dragonfly. She flung her arms over his shoulders and linked her wrists behind his back, opening her legs wider to cradle his large frame.
He snuggled close, pulling her against him until the perspiration of their two bodies seemed to suction them together as one. His hands, with their long, splayed fingers, pla
yed over her waist and hips, and then slipped around to cup her buttocks.
She was heaven, pure and simple. He'd been with women before—even as a half-breed, he wasn't entirely repulsive to the opposite sex. Of course, most of the time he'd had to pay them. No self-respecting white woman would spread her legs for a Comanche, and even the less than respectable ones tended to cross the street if they saw him coming. But women like those Cora employed didn't seem to mind the color of his skin as long as he had the right amount of coin.
Women like Hannah, however, were few and far between. If he hadn't known her since she was the size of a wheat chigger, she probably would have been one of the cross-the-street-when-she-saw-him-coming or even the run-screaming type, too. Even now, he couldn't figure out why she was with him, letting him touch her like this. He only knew he was exceedingly grateful. As soon as he got the chance, he'd get down on his knees and thank the Great Spirit and the Holy Spirit both.
But for now . . . for now, he just wanted to enjoy his good fortune and make love to Hannah the way he'd always dreamed. Long and slow, and then again later, faster and maybe in a new, more creative position.
She was a virgin, though, and he needed to keep that in mind. She might be more beautiful than a thousand Greek goddesses and as passionate as Aphrodite herself, but deep down she was still an innocent. He wanted to make her first time pleasurable, not frighten her away from men—or worse, from him—for the rest of her life.
"Hannah,” he murmured against her lips.
"Mmmm."
"I want you to tell me if I hurt you, notsa?ka?. All right?"
"You won't hurt me,” she told him with confidence.
"I'm told it hurts for a woman the first time."
"You won't hurt me,” she said again.
"I want you to tell me if I do. I'll stop; I promise I will."
Her fingers tunneled through his hair, holding tight to his temples as she gazed up at him with azure eyes and smiled her angel's smile. “You won't hurt me, and I won't want you to stop. I trust you, David."
She couldn't know what her words did to him, and because he was afraid she would see his stark vulnerability, he buried his face in the curve between her neck and shoulder and tried to figure out what he'd done to deserve a woman like Hannah.
"Nu? kamakuru mui,” he whispered against her throat.
He felt the stroke of her hands over his scalp and through the long sweep of his hair just before she asked, “What does that mean?"
He lifted his head, startled by her question. “What does what mean?"
"Those words. What you just said."
He honestly hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud and his muscles tensed, knowing she'd heard his declaration of love in a moment of weakness.
"It means . . . you're beautiful,” he lied, shifting his lower body intimately against her own so she wouldn't notice that he refused to hold her gaze. “The most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I want desperately to make love to you."
Her soft, rose-pink lips turned up at the corners. “For someone who wants desperately to make love to me, you're certainly taking your sweet time about it."
"I want it to be good for you."
"It's already good for me. I'm just waiting for you to make it even better."
With a groan of defeat, he kissed her again. Sliding a hand over her thigh, he lifted one of her legs to crook over his hip before lightly brushing the short, sun-gold curls that formed an inverted triangle between her legs. He used two fingers to find the moist furrow that led to her center and slowly explored her womanly flesh.
She was wet, arching into him at every touch, nearly panting in need. His gut clutched, knowing he was the reason for her present condition. It made him want to howl at the moon like a coyote on the prowl.
He settled instead for shifting closer, bringing the tip of his shaft to her opening, and entering her the merest fraction of an inch. Hannah stilled beneath him and he sucked in a great gulp of air.
She was tight. Even though he was barely inside her, he could tell, and he gritted his teeth to keep from moving and possibly hurting her. He would cause her pain eventually, he knew, but he didn't want to bring it about any sooner than necessary.
"Are you all right?” he ground out, holding himself up by his forearms and looking down into her bright blue eyes.
She nodded, her chest hardly moving as she held her breath. And then she began to squirm.
Walker's jaw clenched as he fought the urge to simply thrust all the way inside her. He tried to pull back, to keep her from going too far, too fast, but she wouldn't heed his warning. “Hannah, stop. You're going to hurt yourself."
"No. It doesn't hurt, it feels wonderful. And I want it all. Now."
"You don't know what you're saying; You've never—"
She cut him off. “Then show me. Please, David. Don't make me wait any longer."
Holy Jesus. How could he deny such a charming request? Even if he'd wanted to, the needs of his body were fast overriding any thought of patience his brain was trying to impart.
Teeth grinding, nostrils flaring, and heart pounding like horses’ hooves through his system, he braced himself above her, shifted her legs higher around his waist, and covered her mouth with his own as he pushed fully into her.
Her lips parted beneath his in a sharp inhalation of breath as he broke through the barrier of her innocence. He took her small cry of pain into himself and prayed the pang would pass quickly.
It hardly hurt at all. She'd been prepared for something much worse and gasped more from anticipation, she thought, than any real sense of discomfort. And then she moaned against David's mouth because it felt so good.
She didn't know what she'd been expecting. No one had ever talked to her about man-woman relations or what she should expect from the marriage bed. Granted, she and David weren't married, but the concept was the same.
Probably thinking he'd hurt her irreparably, David remained perfectly still. Though his mouth was planted firmly on hers, he didn't even move his lips.
Darling man. He was a sweet, caring, generous, darling man, and he didn't realize he was even half of those things.
Looping her arms about his neck, she hugged him tight and started kissing him the way she wished he'd kiss her. Finally, the tension began to leak from his rigid muscles and he kissed her back. His tongue tangled with hers while she stroked the solid planes of his back and lifted her pelvis to bury him even deeper within her silken folds.
It was David's turn to groan when she did so, and his fingers dug into her buttocks. She thought he meant to hold her in place, but Hannah was having none of it. Following the lines of his arms, she pulled them free of her bottom and brought his hands higher, near her breasts.
"Don't stop now,” she murmured in his ear. “Things were just getting interesting."
He lifted his head and stared down at her, the corners of his mouth quirked up in amusement. “Impatient, are you?"
"It's your fault,” she chastised. “You promised to make love to me, and if the rest feels as lovely as this, I'm eager to get to it."
He chuckled. “I may be sorry for this later,” he said. “You may turn out to be insatiable and I'll never get any rest from pleasuring you."
"Something tells me you won't consider it a trial."
He rotated his hips in a gentle clockwise motion and sent her eyeballs spinning in their sockets.
"No, ma'am. I'd have to say I'm downright looking forward to it."
Chapter Sixteen
Hannah grinned and he grabbed her close, kissing her as he rubbed up and down the sides of her body and slowly started to move inside her. She could feel her muscles expanding to accommodate him and then contracting to hold him in place. The gentle friction sent waves of pleasure up and down her spine and she began to rock her pelvis in contrast to his so that each time he thrust forward, they came together with such force that it caused delightful little stars to shoot to life behind her eyelids.
"Hannah.” He said her name, pressing his cheek against her face and nibbling the corner of her mouth. She was the only woman he'd ever truly wanted to be with like this. Probably the only woman he would ever again want to be with this way.
"Hannah, Hannah, Hannah.” It became a litany as he moved into her. Heart pounding, muscles surging, he felt her body wrapping around his like a soft, kid-leather glove.
"Come with me, Hannah.” He felt the pressure building in his groin, rushing through his veins, and he wanted the same for her. “Come with me."
"Yes.” She uttered the word on a sigh, her inner muscles clutching at him and her back arching as she threw herself into the abyss.
Lowering a hand from her rib cage, he very carefully slipped one finger between them and into her moist heat, teasing the tiny bud of desire nestled there.
His touch brought a sharp jolt of pleasure, and she called out his name a moment before her breath hitched and spasms pushed her back into the mattress.
David drove into her a few seconds longer and then his body tensed and a liquid warmth spilled into her, filling her.
His weight covered her, both of them gasping for air. Hannah's limbs were like lead weights; she couldn't have lifted a finger if a troop of soldiers had barged through the door at that very second. She'd never felt so sated, so comfortable. So content.
David made her feel that way. Not only the manner in which he'd touched her, made love to her, but his simply being here with her, holding her this way.
Just as she was thinking that, he raised his head from her chest, shifted to one side, and brought her along so that her body reclined half on, half off his long, solid frame.
She went with him without a qualm, letting her head rest in the crook of his shoulder. His chest rose and fell rhythmically with his breathing and she found herself tracing nonsensical designs over his golden bronze skin with the tip of one finger.
