CHEROKEE

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  Tender. Passionate.

  Rising a short time later, she reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself. For a reason she couldn't quite explain, she didn't dry her body. Instead she went into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

  Maybe she wanted the air to dry her skin, absorb the heat she was feeling. Sarah tilted her head, pushed away a strand of hair falling onto her shoulder.

  Her closet door was open, displaying a simple wardrobe—A-line dresses, functional blouses, serviceable slacks. White, beige, a touch of mint green, a scatter of denim.

  The red serpent stood out like a neon sign. Like cherries in the snow. Sex with a long, lean warrior—a dragon slayer.

  Striking. Mouthwatering. Forbidden.

  He wanted her to seduce him. But could she? And if she did, would she lose her heart? Would she look into his eyes and see her future?

  Maybe, but it didn't matter, because Vicki was right. Sarah couldn't hide from attachments for the rest of her life. And Adam wouldn't hurt her. He was kind and decent and strong, a man who respected women, who wanted a family someday.

  And wasn't that what her mother had meant by the right man? Adam had all the old-fashioned qualities Sarah admired.

  Yes, she thought. She was going to make love. Tonight. With Adam.

  With shaky hands, she dried her damp skin and reached for the dress. This wasn't a mistake, she assured herself, taking a deep, cleansing breath. She wasn't a Victorian virgin, nor was she naive. She had lived a cautious life, judging men with a keen, realistic eye.

  Unzipping the dress, she stepped into it, allowing the satin to slide over bare flesh. Her hair came next. She released the pins and brushed it to a glossy sheen. It fell to her waist in a heavy blue-black curtain.

  Because she wasn't overly skilled at applying cosmetics, she added subtle touches, hoping to soften strong Cherokee features. A coat of mascara lengthened her lashes and a copper-colored blush, flecked with a shimmering powder, highlighted her cheeks. On her mouth, she wore a natural infusion of Jamaica flowers, rosewater and cocoa butter. Sarah smiled. The ruby stain felt as sinful as being naked under a satin dress.

  She dumped the contents of her purse onto the bed and placed her wallet and keys into a gold mesh bag. On her feet she wore gold sandals. Both were simple summer items, but tonight they looked exotic.

  Reaching behind her, she realized she hadn't finished zipping the dress or latching the tiny hooks. Fumbling, she gave up. She was going to remove the garment anyway.

  To keep herself calm, she sucked on a fruit-flavored candy and breathed a gust of sweetened air.

  Cherries in the snow. The image came back like a sleek, sensual temptation. She couldn't turn back now. She wanted him far too much.

  Arriving at Adam's house, she parked and sat behind the wheel for a long, drawn-out moment. The tree-lined street was quiet, the nearly full moon shining high in the sky.

  Finally she went to his front door and rang the bell, convincing herself there was nothing to be nervous about.

  He didn't answer right away, but when he did, her heart leaped for her throat. His hair was loose, his chest bare. And on his hips, a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms rode just below his navel.

  Instantly she knew she had gotten him out of bed.

  He pushed a stray lock of hair away from his face. She couldn't have imagined his hair more beautiful than it was. Rich and brown, it fell to his shoulders, as smooth and touchable as mink. Suddenly she became overly aware of being naked under the form-fitting dress.

  "Sarah." He stared at her. "I can't believe you're here."

  When he stepped away from the door in a silent invitation, she entered the house and stood near a wall, unsure of how to proceed.

  A cat circled her feet, rubbing its sleek fur against her legs. It was the mama cat, she realized. The white one expecting a litter.

  Sarah didn't move, and neither did Adam.

  "You look incredible," he said.

  "Thank you."

  A breeze swept through the room, and she saw that the windows were open, white sheers billowing like a seductive ghost. The house was quiet, with shadows streaking across hardwood floors. The area rug in front of a tiny gas fireplace presented a wash of pale color in the dim light.

  "I've never done this before," she said.

  "Gone to a man's house in the middle of the night?"

  "Yes. No. I was talking about sex."

  He came toward her and stopped when they were inches apart, his gaze riveted to hers. "This will be your first time?"

  She nodded. "Are you surprised?"

  "Yes." He lifted a hand, brushed her cheek. "But—" He paused, and then frowned a little.

  Nervous, she studied his troubled expression. Was he going to refuse to be with her? Send her away? "Is that a problem?"

  "No. I'm honored, sweet Sarah, that you want it to be me. But I—"

  "Shhh." She pressed a finger to his lips, warmed by his concern. Even though Sarah told herself the old ways no longer mattered, virginity was revered in her culture. A traditional Cherokee man would consider her offering a gift.

  They were almost touching, the space between them filled by the mewling cat. "I'm naked underneath," she told him, her nipples grazing the satin. "This is your seduction, Adam." And his chivalry made it even more exciting. More meaningful.

  His breath hitched, the pulse at his neck jumping. "Sarah—"

  "Tell me about your fantasy. Tell me how this scene plays out."

  He closed his eyes, opened them a second later. "I can't."

  Because of her virginity, Sarah thought. And because he was struggling to control the primal urges she saw brewing in his eyes.

  "Then do it, Adam. Make it happen."

  That seemed to be more than he could bear. Pushing the dress from her body, he let it slide to the floor. Cool air shocked her skin, and then his hands were on her, warm and erotic.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, he backed her against the wall, and an immediate thrill, an inexperienced fear rushed through her. She could feel his sex, hard and heavy, through the lightweight sleepwear.

  The cat had vanished, so she knew the purring she heard was rising from her own throat.

  Sarah couldn't describe the sensation of being pinned against a wall, his mouth holding her captive, sucking gloriously on an aching nipple.

  Reaching into his hair, she grabbed hold.

  He kept moving lower, that determined, wet tongue sliding over bare skin. When he dropped to his knees and looked up at her, she touched his cheek.

  There was no time to be shy, to glance away timidly. He told her to watch, and she did, her gaze fixed on his handsome face.

  He loved her, deeply, thoroughly, allowing her to feel like a woman—a twenty-four-year-old seductress. Beautiful, cherished, lusted after.

  She climaxed against his mouth, shattered like glass—edgy, sexy shards of colored glass. She didn't care if she was coming apart, losing pieces of herself, because soon the glass melted into wet, syrupy waves.

  Sarah rode the current, the world spinning around her. And when it ended, all she could do was tremble and whisper his name.

  Adam rose to his feet and held her next to his beating heart. She buried her face against his neck, felt the warmth of his skin, the silky length of his hair.

  "Lie down with me," he said.

  She accepted his hand, and he led her to his unmade bed.

  Everything, including the summer air, seemed fresh and crisp. A cool, herbal scent drifted in from the garden. Even his sheets smelled like the wind, the grass and the trees. Or maybe it was him—this natural healer with magic in his touch.

  His kiss felt like enchantment, a sensual bewitching. And his body…

  She roamed his chest, sliding her hands over muscle and sinew. Catching the drawstring on his pajama bottoms, she tugged. He accommodated her, shifting his hips as she removed the cotton barrier. And when he was naked, she slid her hand between his thighs.

/>   The sound he made, the rough vulnerability, the catch in his breath, gave her power. He was battling to hold on, struggling not to plunge into her hard and deep. His blood was swimming, she thought. Pulsing through his veins in fiery bursts.

  "Adam?"

  "Not yet," he said. "Not this fast."

  She looked up and met his gaze, and what she saw melted her.

  Tenderness. So much tenderness.

  "I don't want to hurt you," he said.

  "You won't."

  He settled his long, fluid body next to hers. Sarah studied the emotion on his face, knowing she couldn't stop the need between them, the closeness, the attachment.

  "I'm so glad I waited," she said, sighing when he skimmed her cheek. He looked strong and virile, a dragon slayer with a kind and tender heart.

  A man capable of capturing a woman's lonely soul.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  Adam inhaled the fragrance of her skin, her hair, the scent of woman and flowers, the sweet, spicy aphrodisiac that made his blood tingle.

  He slid his hands over her waist, down the curve of her hips. And then he closed his eyes, his conscience troubling him once again. How could he do this? How could he make love to her without telling her the truth?

  Adam opened his eyes and saw her looking up at him. Because this mattered, he thought, brushing her lips in a tender kiss. This moment, this feeling. She had offered him a gift—a sweet, beautiful seduction. And he couldn't stop the passion, the need building between them.

  Sarah arched her back, and he tongued her nipple. Her breasts were small and round, sweetly inviting. The darkness of her areolas fascinated him, the color deep and rich, like red earth touched by the sun.

  She caressed him, too. Ran her palms over his shoulders, across his back, pulling him closer. Craving more, he pressed his belly to hers, felt that smooth, slick rush of flesh against flesh, limb against limb.

  Adam straddled her, and she looked up at him. With silent anticipation, they watched each other, hearts pounding. Reaching into the night stand, he removed a foil packet.

  She helped him put the condom on, their fingers brushing.

  "Take me inside," he whispered when they were safe.

  She stroked his face, lifted her hips and welcomed him.

  Heat, moisture—that feminine tightness that made men crave this incredible feeling poured over him. And then there was resistance, just a little, just enough to remind him that he was her first.

  He paused, lowered himself to nuzzle her cheek and pushed deeper. She turned her head and kissed him, took his tongue as he took her virginity.

  Expecting her to tense or gasp in pain, he stopped and waited, giving her time to adjust to the hardness, the heaviness, the discomfort he assumed she would feel.

  They weren't kissing anymore. They were staring into each other's eyes, their bodies joined in stillness.

  It was, Adam thought, the most intimate moment of his life.

  "It doesn't hurt," she said, a smile playing on her gorgeous mouth. "It feels good."

  That smile, those ruby-stained lips, were nearly his undoing. He pushed himself deeper and rocked their bodies, making them both warm, wet and wondrous.

  A mild breeze blew over the bed and stirred earthy scents throughout the room. Her skin was scented, too. And her hair, the flowing curtain of Cherokee hair. The unmistakable blend of cloves and carnations rose from it, seducing him.

  Sweet, sweet Sarah. He couldn't get enough. Not nearly enough.

  He could feel her desire, feel it building and swaying, turning into hot, fresh need. It flashed through him like lightning, a bolt as electrifying as a frayed wire.

  They kissed. They danced. They made love. She moved with him, stroke for stroke, finding his rhythm, becoming one with him.

  He thought he heard her gasp, thought she was climaxing when the first shudder hit him. But he couldn't be sure. He was too far gone, steeped much too deeply in Sarah and sex. Her legs were wrapped so tightly around him, he couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything but the intensity of his release.

  Afterward, he fell into her arms, and she stroked his sweat-slicked back and held him. Neither spoke, but their bodies were still joined, so words didn't seem necessary.

  Adam closed his eyes. The moment drifted like the wind, as fresh and serene as the evening air. Flowers bloomed in her scent, in her long, silky hair. He turned his head and kissed her neck, deciding he could sleep there, his body buried deep within hers.

  She shifted beneath him, and he lifted his head to look at her.

  With her ebony hair spilling over the pillow, and her eyes as dark as the night, he thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. And tonight she was his.

  His lover. His lady.

  She shifted again, so he released her from his weight, already missing the intimacy. Climbing out of bed, he headed to the adjoining bathroom. He removed the protection and discarded it, thinking condoms were a necessary nuisance. After cleaning himself, he brought Sarah a fresh washcloth, dampened with warm water.

  "I thought you might need this." He knew there were spots of blood on the sheets, possibly a little on her inner thighs.

  "Thank you."

  He crawled back into bed beside her, and because she held the washcloth as though embarrassed to use it in front of him, he took it from her and slid it between her legs, dabbing gently.

  "Are you sore?" he asked.

  "No, not really. But that still feels good. Soothing."

  Adam liked the idea that he was her first. He supposed it was a macho way to feel, but it made his past seem cleaner somehow.

  His past. His deception. He had to tell her.

  "May I use your bathroom?"

  He blinked, tried not to frown. "Of course."

  She rose, taking the damp cloth with her. He couldn't tell her now, not on the heels of lovemaking. Adam gave in to the frown. So when? When would he bare his guilty soul?

  A few minutes later, Sarah returned, a towel covering her nakedness. She sat on the edge of the bed, jet-black hair spilling down her back. In the morning, he decided. He would tell her in the morning.

  He touched her shoulder. "Will you stay the night?"

  "I can't." She turned to look at him. "I didn't bring anything with me."

  "Like what?"

  She laughed a little. "Pajamas, a toothbrush. You know, things a person might need."

  "I have one of those travel toothbrushes that's never been opened. You can use that. And you can sleep in one of my pajama tops. I only wear the bottoms anyway."

  Color rose to her cheeks. "What about underwear?"

  He managed a lopsided grin. "Boxers?"

  She returned his humored smile. "Okay."

  He provided the necessary items, and she dressed in front of him, looking a little shy. They climbed into bed and cuddled, the way new lovers often did.

  And when she fell asleep in his arms, Adam closed his eyes and inhaled the fragrance of her skin, wishing morning would never come.

  * * *

  The light of dawn was gray, dim and shadowy, like a poltergeist peeking through the curtains. Adam had already showered, dressed and brushed his teeth, but Sarah looked beautifully rumpled. The sheets were tangled around her legs, and her hair spilled over the pillowcase like rain.

  He stood beside the bed, too guilty to give her an impulsive kiss, a good-morning nuzzle.

  She squinted and sat up. "I can't believe I have to work today."

  "I know. Me, too. But we have plenty of time for tea. Breakfast, too, if you're hungry." Although he couldn't possibly eat, depriving her of food didn't seem fair.

  "Tea's fine."

  "Then go ahead and freshen up, and I'll make it."

  "Thanks." She sent him a sleepy smile. "Do you have some sweats or something I could borrow? I hate to wear that dress home."

  "Sure." He pointed to the chest of drawers. "Just help yourself." A more experien
ced woman would have prepared herself for an overnight seduction. She would have brought a change of clothes, undergarments, toiletries.

  Adam left Sarah alone and headed for the kitchen. After selecting a lemongrass tea, he tore several mint leaves from a windowsill plant, then set the water on to boil.

  When she entered the room twenty minutes later, a fragrant brew steeped in the dragon teapot. On this gloomy morning, he'd decided to make use of the souvenir she'd chosen for him.

  He stood at the counter, and she came up behind him and put her arms around his waist. Turning, he gave into the need to hold her, hugging her close.

  Maybe she wouldn't react as strongly as he feared. Maybe he was worrying for nothing.

  They separated, and she poured her tea and reached for the honey. He watched, taking note of how much sweetener she used. Suddenly her habits mattered, little things couples learned about each other.

  She wore a pair of his sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt. The gray pants were rolled at the waist, and her budding nipples were slightly visible through the thin shirt. She had never looked prettier.

  Adam led her to the living room, and they sat on a leather sofa the cats had clawed. He glanced up at the scratching post and saw Cameo sleeping in one of the cubbyholes. Darrin snoozed nearby, and Samantha and Tabitha were curled in a chair by the fireplace. No one seemed to mind that a woman was occupying his time, but maybe they sensed how special she was. The last woman Adam dated hadn't been partial to cats.

  "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

  "How much I like you." And how much he hated to spoil the companionable quiet between them. "Sarah, there's something I need to tell you."

  She leaned forward. "You look so serious."

  "It's a serious subject." He placed his cup on the coffee table, forming the dreaded words. "I used to have a drinking problem. Years ago, when I was a teenager."

  Stunned, Sarah felt as if she'd been kicked. In the heart. With steeled-toed boots. The pain was so fierce she had to catch her breath. She'd trusted this man. This noble, kind, perfect … fraud. "A drinking problem? What's that? A sugar-coated way of saying you're an alcoholic?"