The Lawman

by Patricia Potter

  Sam felt as if every emotion was running amok, and, worse, her body was doing the same. New sensations were bursting inside her. His lips against hers, her face against his rough one, his hand playing with the nape of her neck. Each intimacy ignited blazes throughout her entire being. And strongest of all was the irresistible craving deep in her core.

  He unbuttoned the top of her shirt with his free hand. Her breast came alive with his touch, hardening and sparking fresh frissons of need coursing through her.

  The embers of the fire that had glowed between them since the first day grew into an inferno. It felt painful in deliciously exquisite ways that aroused and burned her. Sam lost herself in his touch, in the taste of his lips. She didn’t understand what was happening to her, why nothing mattered right now but the lawman she should fear. Her heart was racing, and her senses were spinning out of control.

  He released a long breath. His hand left her breast and he held her chin in his fingers, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Not wise, Miss Sam,” he said.

  “No,” she agreed. “Marshal.” The last was her feeble attempt at sanity.

  “Jared,” he said. “Say it. Say Jared.” His voice was low but there was a cajoling persistence.

  “Jared.” She tried it out, rolled it on her tongue. It was silly that the mere voicing of a name made a change, but it did. It broke down a door standing between them, a door she’d tried to barricade.

  Her fingers were still on his neck and his warmth flowed through her. Their gazes locked together, and she was almost motionless, her whole being waiting for something. Waiting…

  His gaze was intense, and there was a brilliant glitter in those dark hawklike eyes. His hand still held her chin and his fingers moved sensuously along her lips. She felt every one of those touches clear through to the bone and trembled, unable to control the need inside.

  And what were her eyes telling him? She prayed the lust wasn’t too obvious. Now she knew exactly what the word meant. How strong it was. How compelling. She wouldn’t believe that what she felt was anything more than lust. She couldn’t.

  Pull away! And yet how could she? She’d always been an explorer, and this was the ultimate exploration.

  He slid his fingers to her hair, playing with the short curls, stroking her neck with a tenderness she hadn’t felt in him before. She hadn’t thought of him as gentle or tender or…

  She closed her eyes, savored the awareness as the very new thing it was, even though she knew she should run as if all the demons in hell were chasing her.

  But she wanted more. So much more.

  His lips touched hers again, tentatively this time, as if he, too, was lost in some enchanted but dangerous maze. His other kiss had been explosive. Angry. Wanting. It had lit fires deep inside, but the tentativeness of this kiss was far more treacherous. A part of her melted inside, and she tumbled into a flood of mindless sensation. As if he sensed something had changed, his tongue entered her mouth, exploring, seducing, inviting her into a world she’d never known before.

  “Lie next to me,” he whispered. “This is too damn awkward.”

  He’d pulled her shoulders and head down, but her hip was still on the edge of the bed. She’d been careful to avoid his wound, but oh, how she wanted to feel all of him next to her.

  “Your leg?”

  “Damn my leg,” he said as his free hand guided her down next to him on the edge of the bed. She trembled with expectancy.

  He trailed his mouth to the side of her neck and nuzzled the skin, then moved upward. Heat licked at her and she put her arms around him, played with the dark hair even though she knew it was a terrible mistake. He’s the enemy, she frantically reminded herself. But the warning was chaff in the wind, unsubstantial compared to the power of her other feelings. She wanted to prolong the dizzying, warm excitement she knew he shared, for he was rigid with need. She savored her ability to do that to him. He’d so often seemed immune to any feelings, as if nothing really touched him.

  She’d always been passionate in her beliefs, in her fierce loyalties, in her love of nature and the orphaned and hurt critters that inhabited her world, but she’d sometimes wondered whether she had the type of passion she’d read about in books. Now she knew it had been lying dormant, waiting for the right man.

  But this wasn’t the right man, part of her screamed. This was the worst possible man.

  She didn’t care.

  She only knew her body was reacting completely on its own, and her blood was hot, rushing like a storm-swollen river through her body.

  From the moment his lips touched hers, she was helpless to resist, helpless to keep from wanting him. The knowledge was excruciating because it was a betrayal of those she loved. And yet…she was drowning in the essence of him.

  Their lips met again and she stretched against him, feeling the growing hardness of his maleness. She whimpered as the pressure inside her grew. Her hand went to the back of his neck and touched and teased as he had done with her. She knew now how much that simple touch could excite and arouse.

  He positioned his lips over hers, and her mouth readily opened to his.

  Thunder clapped outside. It should have brought back her reason, but instead it only added to the pulsating sensations building within her. Just as she had since she’d watched him approach her in the deserted street, she warred with herself, mind against heart, body against soul.

  Her tongue became every bit as aggressive as his, exploring and teasing. Her gaze met his and his eyes were no longer that cool, impenetrable darkness, but alive and blazing, the blue in them more obvious than ever.

  She pulled back for a moment, seeking a respite from the emotions that were overruling every sensible, responsible part of her. She felt a bewildering pain in her heart, a longing for something she didn’t understand, and the strength of it terrified her.

  WHAT HAD STARTED as a game, a challenge, had suddenly become something else. Jared’s lips took hers. Hard. Part of him wanted to scare her away. The other…hell, the other wanted her with a need he’d never felt before.

  God, but she was beautiful. And soft. So damned soft.

  And so damned innocent. It was obvious with her every response. This was all new to her.

  Damn MacDonald for keeping her here. She should have been courted, married, with child. Yet he was grateful, as well. In just a few days, she’d awakened a heart he’d long thought dead. He’d felt alive and even eager for the next time he would see her. Hell, he’d felt like a callow kid courting his first girl. Nothing could have surprised him more.

  Then her lips reached for his and her body stretched against his, and all thought evaporated as their lips played and teased and tasted. Dammit, he burned with need for her. He burned so much that the pain in his leg disappeared. His need reached volcanic proportions as she touched his neck and returned his kiss with such surprised…wonder.

  Had she even been kissed before?

  He doubted it now. Dammit, she embraced everything she did with all that was in her. She was even willing to kill and be killed for a friend or whatever it was that MacDonald/Thornton was to her. How could he turn that against her now and live with himself?

  He closed his eyes and held her tight with his free arm, wanting, needing desperately to plunge into her, but then he would be no better than the men he’d chased. He would be killing something in her….

  “Don’t stop,” she said, her voice soft but determined.

  “What about MacDonald?” he said roughly.

  She was silent.

  “I’m still going after him.”

  “I know.”

  Her voice was little more than a whisper, and there was pain in it. Maybe like the pain in his gut. But he could no more change who he was than she could.

  Her lips moved closer to him, and this time she was the aggressor. Innocent or not, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He touched her face with his fingers, wondering how he’d ever thought, even for a second, that she was any
thing but female. She was lightly tanned and he could see a few freckles on her nose, but the skin was flawless. Her eyes were enormous now, the colors constantly changing. He could drown in those eyes.

  He could drown in her.

  He couldn’t help but touch the fine lines of her face, trace his fingers along her cheek. He hated being restrained, unable to take her in both arms and bring her even closer to him. But with every movement, he was reminded of the chain holding him, and the division between them, and the folly of what he was doing.

  Her lips curled in a smile that was all feminine and seductive and yet uncommonly endearing at the same time. She had to be in her twenties, but she was an intoxicating combination of hellion and angel.

  She took his hand and played with it for a moment, then she moved closer and their lips touched again. No punishment this time. No anger. Just an exploration that started tentatively, then grew bolder.

  “Sam,” he said. “Samantha.” At the moment, the latter name fit her better.

  He couldn’t hold her, or lift himself above her. He couldn’t do what he wanted to do. Seduce her. That had been his idea several days ago, but now the thought repelled him. He wanted to make love to her. Slowly, with care.

  The pressure inside grew, and he felt ready to explode. Her hand touched his thigh. He guided it to his penis. Watched and felt—God, how he felt—as she touched him. And then to his surprise she was taking off her clothes, letting them slide to the floor. She looked both defiant and determined.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “You could have a child,” he warned. “We could,” he amended.

  She looked offended. “I know that.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said. And she was. She was slender with just enough curves to give her a satisfying softness. He held out his hand and she lay next to him as the heat between them blazed. She touched his chest, lingered on a scar, then ran her fingertips downward, along the skin that stretched taut over the ridged muscles of his abdomen. He shuddered, trying to prevent the spasms her touch created. Yet all his fabled control was crumbling, pulled down by a woman who was part imp and part siren.

  His free hand went to the soft mound between her legs. She gasped with surprise, then cried out in startled pleasure as her body arched toward him. He twisted himself—damn the chain—to meet her and felt the heat run like lightning between them, scorching and branding.

  TREMORS SHUDDERED THROUGH Sam as his lips touched hers, and he moved his fingers first to one of her breasts and then lower to her most private place. Sizzling fires danced up and down her spine.

  “Are you sure you want to be here?” he whispered in her ear.

  No, Sam wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything, but that didn’t diminish the need in her.

  “Yes,” she said instead.

  She heard the rattle of the chain as he strained against it, and for a second the magic was broken.

  She drew a shaky breath, trying to restore some calm to a body possessed by a storm. He trailed his lips down her cheek and to her ear, nuzzling until she knew nothing but a consuming need for him, and she couldn’t break away now if her life depended on it. His tongue feathered her cheek even as his fingers continued to explore the place no man had touched before. Sensations streaked through her, and she whimpered with the fierce desire clawing at her.

  “Samantha,” he whispered.

  Her name sounded fine on his lips. Different. But she didn’t have time to think because he engaged her mouth again, and she touched his chest. Hard. So hard. She fingered one of the scars and looked up at him. He would have another scar because of her. She swallowed hard. “Your leg?” she said. “I don’t want…”

  He dismissed her words. “I’ve ridden for days with worse wounds.”

  His lips chased the guilt away, and she ran her hands down his body while he continued to tease and arouse, sending shimmering waves of heat through every part of her until she couldn’t bear more.

  “Jared.” It was a cry of pure need.

  She was aware he moved as far as his chained wrist would allow. He balanced himself over her, and she thought briefly of the wound, the stress…

  And then he lowered himself, most of his weight on his good leg. She felt the throbbing of his sex against her and the aching craving became even stronger. She cried out again as he entered her. Pain came so quickly she couldn’t contain a small gasp.

  He hesitated.

  “Don’t stop,” she said. Despite the pain, the raw need was building inside her. He moved again, fitting himself slowly to her, and the pain started to fade, replaced by waves of delicious sensations as he penetrated deeper and deeper, as if searching for the core of her soul. Her body instinctively moved with his as his rhythm quickened and waves of ecstasy rolled through her. And then when she thought she could bear no more, she felt a magnificent explosion inside. Thunderous waves of pleasure swept through her like a great tidal wave….

  14

  JARED SUDDENLY WITHDREW from her but held her close as she felt moisture between her legs. She knew why, and she also realized what it had just cost him. He lay beside her, his heart beating rapidly, a muscle throbbing in his cheek.

  She touched his lips with her fingers as he rolled over on his side. Her body was still alive with the aftershocks, frissons of pleasure running through her.

  “Is it always like this?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “Hardly ever…like this.”

  She put her head on his chest. It was damp with sweat and she was intoxicated with the scent of him.

  His free arm went around her. She wished she had the key to the handcuffs so she could be engulfed in his arms. It seemed that Archie had been wise to keep it.

  She couldn’t decide whether she could trust Jared. Even now when she had given herself to him both with her body and her heart, she couldn’t be sure. That hurt to the core.

  She didn’t want to think of that. She just wanted to revel in all the new sensations that still rocked her body. Sated. That was the word.

  Another Reese word she had never understood fully until now.

  She turned, careful of his leg, and ran her fingers along his chest and up over the ridges of his hard face, the sun lines and the dark eyebrows that could glower so well.

  She’d never known there could be such simple joy in touching.

  He closed his eyes even as fingers kneaded the back of her neck. She put her head against his heart and heard it beat. She knew she should leave. Archie might well kill him if he caught them together, even if it was her fault.

  “Samantha,” he finally said. “I like the sound of your name.”

  “I like the way you say it.”

  “This is a damn fool thing to do,” he said.

  He tugged at the chain absently.

  She met his gaze directly. “I don’t have the key.”

  “Archie is a wise man,” he said.

  Would he have used these minutes to free himself and go after Mac? Was he only using her now?

  A chill ran through her. She’d thought…believed…he was as caught up with the fire between them as she was.

  As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he touched her face with a tenderness that was unexpectedly painful. It was accompanied by something else she couldn’t quite define. Regret? Maybe uncertainty? It was so hard to tell with him.

  Yet she couldn’t stop herself from touching him. She was sore where he’d been, and yet a craving for him was still curling inside her. She’d just started exploring an entirely new world and she didn’t want to stop now. Her fingers moved along the muscles of his stomach, and she felt them tightening.

  “Don’t begin something I can’t stop,” he warned, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

  She leaned over and kissed him, slowly, and felt the fires beginning again. “I think I like starting ‘somethings.’”

  His gaze caught hers, held it. “Does anything ever
scare you?”

  “You do,” she said. “I want you, and I know I shouldn’t. I think you want me, too, but I don’t know how much. I don’t know if you bed every woman you meet, and I don’t know whether I should care. I…” She swallowed hard. “I thought…I could just…”

  “Use me?” he said wryly.

  “Not exactly,” she said. “I wanted…” She was tripping over her words. She couldn’t say what she felt. She couldn’t give him that advantage.

  “And now you know,” he said, his voice suddenly hard and his eyes cold. “I think you had better go, Miss Sam. It wouldn’t do for your Archie to find you here in the enemy’s arms.”

  She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to stop touching him. But he had suddenly distanced himself. She’d made a mess of trying to explain herself, but she was too confused by the wash of new emotions to know exactly what she felt.

  Enemy. He thought she was using him.

  But wasn’t she doing exactly that?

  She stood. Looked down at him in the flickering light of the lantern on the table. His eyes met hers steadily, and the deep blue she sometimes saw was eclipsed in their blackness. He looked dangerous and angry and suddenly untouchable.

  She pulled on her now wrinkled clothes and started for the door.

  “You might want to get clean sheets,” he said in a cool, dispassionate voice.

  She suddenly became aware of the scent lingering in the room and the stains on the sheets. Her face flared, but she knew he was right. Archie would be checking his leg in the morning.

  Without answering him, she opened the door and closed it behind her. She took a deep breath. Her body still sang from his touch. From their lovemaking. Ripples of sensation reminded her of the pleasure that so recently rocked her body. But just as strong was the memory of the way his eyes had shuttered and his face hardened. Just as strong was the pain. He had felt nothing. Or at least, very little. His face had told her that.

  A tear slid down her cheek. One lone tear. Then another. She angrily wiped it away. She never cried. Never. At least not since her mother died, and not before the marshal.