Outlaw m-3

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “Ten,” Diana cried, feeling another of the strange, tiny convulsions building in her. “I-”

  The word became a gasp and another shudder and then another as she felt his touch glide into her body, retreat, return, only to retreat once more, leaving her dazed and empty, aching. He skimmed the edges of her softness, probing sweetly, discovering the aching nub hidden between sleek, silken folds, rubbing it slowly, hotly, stripping away her breath, her thoughts, her restraint.

  Diana twisted sinuously, trying to know more of the pleasure that was greater than any she had ever felt but still not enough; it was driving her mad. Ten was driving her mad, stealing into her so gently, retreating, always retreating when what she wanted, what she must have, was his own flesh filling the emptiness she had never known existed within her own body.

  “So soft,” Ten said, his deep voice a rumbling purr. He teased Diana slowly, loving the wild tremors of her response when he slid unerringly into her softness, groaning as he touched as much of her as he could. “So damned hot.”

  Ten’s name broke on Diana’s lips, a strained sound that could have been either fear or passion. Slowly, reluctantly, he began withdrawing from her body. Her hand locked over his, holding him in place.

  “Are you sure you want this?” Ten said hoarsely, rubbing his cheek along her bare hip.

  “Yes.”

  “And this? Do you want this, too?”

  His hand shifted. The sensuous pressure within Diana increased. The glittering sensation that had haunted her body condensed into a network of wild lightning. The sound she made was as involuntary as the tightening of her body around him. Afraid that he had hurt her, Ten withdrew before she could stop him.

  “Baby? Was that pleasure or pain? You’re so tight…”

  Diana looked over her shoulder at Ten with sapphire eyes that burned in the aftermath of sensual lightning. Slowly she turned her whole body until she was facing him. When she spoke, her voice was low. smoky, as helplessly sensual as her response to him. She guided his hand from her shoulder to the dark triangle at the base of her torso. When he accepted her wordless invitation and returned to her body, a shaft of pleasure made her gasp and tremble even as she instinctively sought more of Ten’s touch. His hand shifted and she felt herself gently stretched. Sensual lightning came again, as unexpected and ravishing as it had been the first time.

  “You were right,” Diana said when she could speak.

  “About what?”

  “This. It’s as much pleasure as your senses can stand.”

  Ten laughed softly, then groaned as Diana’s mouth caressed his bare chest. “We’ve just skimmed the surface,” he said, bringing her mouth up to his. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  She smiled hesitantly. “Are you enjoying it, too?”

  “Baby, I’d have to be dead and buried not to enjoy touching you.”

  Ten felt Diana’s slender ringers searching restlessly over his chest, pausing to tease the flat male nipples, then moving on to his back. She probed the line of his spine between ridges of muscle, stroking him, learning what it felt like to hold a man in her arms. Closing her eyes, sighing, half-smiling, she kneaded the long, heavy muscles of Ten’s back, openly savoring the heat and power of his body.

  Seeing Diana’s enjoyment at touching him was as arousing as anything a woman had ever done to Ten. The tips of Diana’s breasts were like tight pink rosebuds pressing against him with each movement of her hands. When he could no longer bear looking at her breasts without caressing them, he bent his head to her. A startled gasp became a moan as he circled one bud with his tongue, then took her deeply into his mouth, tasting her, tugging softly on her, making her shudder with each soft stab of his tongue, each exquisitely restrained caress of his teeth, each movement of his fingers within the clinging heat of her body.

  Sounds rippled from Diana, the elemental huskiness of passion combined with rising notes of feminine surprise. The hot movements of Ten’s mouth and hands increased, deepened, quickened, and she called his name with every rapid breath she took, every stroke of sweet lightning scoring her, shaking her, until finally she shimmered and burned in his arms, her body consumed by the pleasure he had given to her.

  Ten held Diana as close as he dared, stroking her trembling body with hands that also trembled, kissing her flushed cheeks, her eyelids, her reddened lips, until finally her breath came more evenly. Her lashes stirred and lifted, revealing eyes more blue than any gems Ten had ever seen.

  “How can I…what do I say?” Diana whispered.

  “Whatever you want.”

  “I love you, Ten.”

  The line of Ten’s lips shifted into a bittersweet smile. Before she could say any more, he kissed her gently. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, baby. Damned glad.”

  Diana opened her mouth to object that what she felt was more than the aftermath of physical pleasure but Ten’s tongue slid between her lips. Without thinking she closed her teeth, lightly raking his tongue then soothing it with slow motions of her own in a pattern he had taught her. The tightening of his in response and the sweet friction of his own tongue made her nerve endings shimmer again, echoes lightning from her breasts to her knees. Her caught, broke, caught again.

  “Ten?”

  He closed his eyes, trying to ignore both the soft heat of Diana’s body and the hard heat of his own.

  “I want more of you,” Diana said huskily, sweeping her hands from his shoulders to his waist. “I want all of you. If you-do you want me, too?”

  “Move your hands down a little more and tell me what you think,” Ten said hoarsely.

  She had moved her hands barely at all when she discovered precisely what he meant. The sound he made while she measured his arousal with a slow pressure of her palm could have been pain, but she was looking at his eyes and she knew it wasn’t. She repeated the caress again, drawing another hoarse, low sound.

  “Baby, you’ll…”

  Ten’s breath hissed between his clenched teeth. His hand slid from Diana’s knee to the apex of her thighs as he sought the secret well of her femininity. It was even hotter and softer than his memories. She whimpered and moved with his touch. Her response and her hands searching over his hard, eager flesh nearly undid him.

  Very carefully Ten eased Diana’s hands up his body, kissed her fingertips and palms and held them hard against his chest while he caught his breath.

  “Ten? What’s wrong?”

  “Hush, baby. Nothing’s wrong.”

  Ten turned away and took a packet from his jeans pocket. With the swift, sure motions of a man performing an accustomed task, he opened the packet. When he turned back to Diana he wasn’t completely naked. He saw her rather startled, somewhat dismayed look. With a calm that was exactly opposite to what he was feeling, he put his finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his own.

  “Want to change your mind?” Ten asked.

  Rather tentatively, Diana ran her fingertips over Ten’s tightly sheathed flesh. “It felt better…without.”

  He clenched his teeth against agreeing with her. It had felt one hell of a lot better to be completely naked. Just as she, now, felt exquisite to his bare fingers as he once more slid into her, testing her readiness to receive him and simultaneously drawing a low sound of pleasure from her as she melted at his touch.

  “Sex is temporary,” Ten said tightly. “Children aren’t. It’s a small price to pay for a big amount of protection.”

  Diana’s head snapped up, surprise clear on her face. At that moment Ten realized she hadn’t even considered the fact that she might become pregnant He wanted to swear and laugh and then swear some more at her trust, but most of all he wanted to plumb the depths of her heat with the very flesh that she was once again caressing tentatively. Though her touch was muffled by the price of protecting himself against the lifetime complications of fatherhood, the feel of her hand was nonetheless driving him to the edge of his control.

  “Baby?” T
en said.

  The aching restraint in his voice made Diana’s heart turn over. “Yes,” she whispered. “Whatever you want, just show me.”

  “The first time, it would be easier if… will it bother you to be beneath me?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Holding Ten’s eyes with her own, Diana lay back and opened herself to him. Her complete trust pierced Ten, making him tremble with an emotion that was deeper and more devastating than desire. Slowly he settled between her legs, watching her for any sign of fear or pain. He saw only blue eyes that widened slightly at the gently probing pressure between her legs, then her eyes closed and she unraveled in a long, shivering acceptance of him within her body.

  The ease with which Ten became a part of Diana was another instant of piercing emotion deep within him…and then he was moving and she was clinging to him, measuring him in a new way, moving with him, loving him as she had never loved another man.

  Fire swept through Ten’s restraint, burning him, burning her, each wanting more and yet more. Instinctively Diana’s legs shifted, wrapping around his lean hips, luring and demanding with the same motions. He answered with hard, sweeping movements, driving into her, filling her, drinking from her sweet mouth until he felt his self-control slipping away. He fought against ecstasy, not wanting it to come to him so soon, not wanting to end the burning arousal that was in itself a savage pleasure; then it was too late, the pleasure was too piercing, too overwhelming.

  Ten took her one final time, all of her, and held himself there while ecstasy stripped everything away but Diana and the deep, endless pulses of his own release.

  14

  Ten sat in the rocking chair, moving it with a gentle rhythm, looking down into Logan’s turquoise eyes. The baby stared with absolute seriousness back into Ten’s eyes.

  “I know, old man,” Ten said, smiling. “I don’t look like your momma. What’s worse, I’m not built like her and you’re getting too hungry to be pacified by a rocking chair and a soothing voice much longer. But I’m afraid you’ll just have to lump it for a while. Luke has been trying to show Carla that new colt all day, and this is the first chance they’ve had. You don’t begrudge your parents a few minutes alone together, do you?”

  Ten smiled to himself as he spoke. He suspected the new colt wasn’t all that was keeping Luke and Carla away from the house. The men were scattered all over the ranch, Diana was working on sketches at the old house, Ten had promised to watch Logan, and thebarn was empty of all but a few horses. Ten wouldn’t have blamed Luke for taking advantage of the opportunity to steal a few kisses or even the whole woman.

  The thought of enjoying a similar opportunity to have Diana alone within the twilight silence of the barn had a rapid and very pronounced effect on Ten’s body.

  “Damn,” he muttered softly. “It’s not like I’ve been exactly deprived in that department, except for the weekends.”

  When they were away from September Canyon, Ten was careful not to show any difference in his treatment of Diana. Some women could have laughed off or ignored the cowhands’ brand of humor with regard to “unwed marriage” or “riding double” or the like, but Ten didn’t think Diana was one of them. When the hands discovered, as they quickly would, that no marriage was planned, the humor would degenerate into sidelong looks and blunt male speculations. Diana’s trust and uninhibited sensuality deserved better than that. She was very different from the kind of women the cowboys associated with summer flings.

  The only time Ten allowed himself to be alone with Diana was in the old house, in the workroom, sorting shards after dinner, the curtains open and both people plainly in view to anyone who cared enough to glance in. Outwardly, as long as anyone was around, nothing had changed since Diana had become his lover.

  As much as Ten was tempted by proximity, he didn’t so much as kiss Diana when they were at the ranch house. He didn’t trust himself to stop with a kiss or two. On Friday, the drive back from September Canyon had taken so long that dinner was over hours before Ten and Diana made it to the ranch house. Part of the trouble had been a rain-slicked road. The other part had been Diana; Ten hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. What had started as a quick kiss had ended with both of them breathing too hard, too fast, their breath as steamy as their bodies had become.

  All that had prevented Ten from taking Diana right there was the fact that her first, unhappy experience with sex had been in the front seat of a vehicle. So he had put the truck back in gear and driven to the ranch with the weekend stretching like eternity in front of him. But it had been a near thing. He had never been like that with a woman, riding the eroding edge of his own self-control until he wanted to put his fist through a window in sheer frustration.

  Two nights in the bunkhouse did nothing to make him feel better. No matter how hard Ten tried not to, he kept seeing Diana holding out her arms, opening herself to him. The memory made heat and heaviness pool thickly between his thighs, a reaction that had become uncomfortably familiar since he had first seen Diana.

  Becoming her lover had meant only a temporary improvement in the condition, followed all too soon by an even more pronounced return of the problem. Knowing the passion that lay behind Diana’s smile didn’t help to cool Ten’s response. He wanted to make love to her after an evening of conversation and laughter, and then again in the middle of the night, and then he wanted to kiss her slowly awake in the morning, bringing her from dreams to passion, watching the pleasure in her eyes when she woke up and found him inside her. But he couldn’t do that on the weekends, when they returned to the ranch house.

  Logan bunched up his little fists and cried.

  Ten sighed. “I know how you feel, nubbin. I know how you feel.”

  He shifted the baby and stroked the tiny cheek with his fingertip. Logan’s hands flailed with excitement until more by chance than anything else he connected with Ten’s left index finger, bringing it to his mouth. Instantly the baby began sucking on Ten’s callused fingertip.

  “Uh, old man, I don’t know how to break this to you, but…oh, the hell with it. You’ll figure it out for yourself soon enough.”

  The controlled, throaty rumble of a powerful car engine distracted Ten. He looked out through the window into the last light of evening. The paint job on the car was a dirt-streaked, sun-faded black, but everything that affected the car’s function was in top shape. The tires were new, the lights were bright and hard, and the engine purred like a well-fed cougar.

  Even before the driver got out and stretched, Ten knew that Nevada Blackthorn had come back to the Rocking M.

  Smiling with anticipation, Ten watched his younger brother climb the front steps with the lithe, coordinated motions of an athlete or a highly trained warrior. The knock on the door was distinct, staccato without being impatient. Ten’s smile widened. There had been a time when his brother would have driven up in a cloud of dust and knocked on the door hard enough to rattle the hinges.

  “Come on in, Nevada.”

  The door opened and shut without noise. Nevada crossed the room the same way. Without noise. Tall, wide-shouldered, his thick black hair two inches long and his dense beard half that length, Nevada looked as hard as he was. Even as his pale, ice-green eyes took in the room with its multiple doorways, his unnaturally acute hearing noted the near-silent approach of someone coming toward the living room through the kitchen.

  Knowing that Ten was baby-sitting Logan, Diana had been all but tiptoeing across the kitchen as she headed for the living room. She didn’t get that far. Two steps from the doorway she froze at the sight of the lean, long-boned, broad-shouldered stranger who moved like Ten when he was fighting.

  Ten held Logan and watched Nevada cross the floor toward the rocking chair. Rain-colored eyes measured the changes in Nevada-the brackets of anger or pain around his flat, unsmiling mouth, the razor-fine physical edge, his muscular weight always poised on the balls of his feet because he had to be ready
to throw himself into flight or battle at even instant. For Ten, looking at Nevada was like going back in time, seeing himself years ago, youthful dreams and emotions burned out by the timeless cruelty of war.

  Silently Nevada stood in front of the rocking chair, staring down at his brother and the baby.

  “I will be damned. Yours?”

  Ten shook his head. “Not a chance. I know what kind of husband I make. I’m definitely a short-term man. Marriage should be a long-term affair.”

  Nevada grunted. “The bitch you married didn’t make much of a wife, long or short.”

  The corner of Ten’s mouth curled sardonically, “Wasn’t all her fault. Women aren’t interested in me for more than a few weeks.”

  “The way I remember it, you weren’t real interested yourself after a few weeks. Two months was your limit. Then you were tugging at the bit, looking for new worlds to conquer.”

  “The curse of the Blackthorns,” Ten agreed, his voice casual. “Warriors, not husbands.”

  Diana stood motionless, her throat clenched around a cry of protest and pain, realizing that she had lost a gamble she hadn’t even understood she was taking. She had understood the risk of physical injury she took in trusting Ten, and she had been lucky; Ten had given her extraordinary physical pleasure and no pain at all.

  But she hadn’t understood that she was risking her emotions and unborn dreams. Now she felt as she had the instant the kiva ceiling had given way beneath her feet.

  No wonder Ten has been so careful not to touch me when other people are around. He doesn’t want them to know we’re lovers. They might assume something more, something that has to do with shared lives, shared promises, shared love. But he doesn’t see us that way.

  I didn’t know I saw us that way until now, just now, when a dream I didn’t even know I had burst and I fell through to reality.

  God, I hope the landing is easier than the fall.