IRONHEART

by Rachel Lee

  Yet if she turned away now, she would probably spend the rest of her life regretting it. Lately it had been occurring to her off and on that the last ten years had been a wasteland. Someday she was going to run out of future, and it would be awful to look back and see nothing but missed opportunities.

  But even that didn't sway her as much as her need. Every cell in her body yearned toward Gideon. Her heart reached out to him; her soul recognized him. If heaven granted her only one night, it was a night for which she would be forever grateful.

  And then, for one agonizing moment, it occurred to her that he might have been teasing her.

  "Do you—" Her whisper fractured, then steadied. "Do you mean it?"

  Now. Tell her it was a joke. Tell her that he'd momentarily lost his senses but was sane again. Tell her.

  "With every cell in my body," he said roughly. "With every single aching inch of me. Damn it, Mouse, I'm on fire for you. Now get out of here before I do something about it."

  She should have run. He was surprised when she didn't. He was stunned when she put her hand on his thigh. "Is this—is this where your little brown mouse perched?"

  Sara's heart was in her throat, hammering so hard she could hear it. Resting her hand on his thigh was the most daring thing she'd ever done, more daring by far than breaking up a brawl or chasing a speeder. Dying, she thought, would be easier than exposing herself this way. George had fled, and perhaps Gideon just hadn't yet noticed whatever it was that made her so repulsive.

  But the feel of denim and taut muscle beneath her palm was as exciting as anything she had ever felt, and she couldn't bring herself to be wise. Scared to death, hoping against hope, she waited.

  Maybe she didn't understand what he meant. He had to give her one last chance, one last warning. "I won't stop."

  "God, I hope not," she said shakily.

  She understood, and he had run out of nobility, restraint and self-control. Rising, he pulled her to her feet and drew her toward the bunkhouse door. Toward his cave. Toward the dark warmth of a private place where he could claim her as men have claimed women since time immemorial.

  He wanted a light. He wanted to be able to see her, but he ignored the wall switch as he tugged her into the bedroom, then ignored the lamp on the nightstand. He wanted nothing, absolutely nothing, to jar her and cause her to rethink her decision. He didn't want any harsh light of reality to pierce the darkly sensual mood that stretched between them.

  What he most wanted right now was the feeling. The feeling of closeness and caring, of need and hunger. Later he could fill his eyes with her, but right now he wanted to fill his hands with her, his lungs, his mouth, and to fill her body with himself.

  A shaky little sigh escaped her as he tugged the sweater over her head and discovered she wasn't wearing a bra. He growled softly with pleasure as he found her small breasts and covered them with his callused hands. Her hardening nipples pressed his palms, and recognition of her growing arousal zinged straight to his groin, making him throb.

  "I'm … so small," she whispered apologetically.

  That almost inaudible confession punched him in the gut. For an instant he froze, absorbing a truth about Sara Yates that he'd somehow managed to miss. Somehow he hadn't seen the fears and inadequacy she felt, hadn't realized that George Cumberland had done more than humiliate her. He had gutted her womanhood, leaving her frightened, uncertain and full of self-doubt.

  "You're so exactly perfect," he corrected her gruffly. "You have no idea just how good you feel to me. Just take my word for it. You're exactly right for me. And I can't tell you…" Still cupping her breasts, he bent and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Oh, babe, I can't tell you what it means when you let me touch you like this. Especially when you're shy about it." And that was true. The fact that this was not a casual, easy thing for her to do aroused him as little had, piercing the armor plating around his heart.

  She drew another shaky breath, and then a soft little moan spilled from her as he brushed his thumbs over her beading nipples. The sigh and the moan passed directly into his ear as he kissed her smooth shoulder, and his loins clenched with deepening need.

  Pretty little breasts. He didn't need to see them to know that, and it didn't matter whether they were crowned in pink or brown. What mattered was that her nipples rose eagerly to his touch, and her body moved restlessly in response. What mattered was that she let him bend and draw her swollen nipple deep into his mouth, and then clutched wildly at him as the pleasure ripped through her.

  "Oh, baby," he whispered raggedly when he tried to catch his breath. No woman had ever responded to him this way, so quickly, so hotly, so artlessly. Her hands tugged at his shoulders, and she whispered something. "Hmm? I didn't hear you, Mouse."

  "Your hair," she whispered breathlessly.

  "My hair?" He had once again tied it at the nape of his neck with the thong.

  "Untie it," she demanded on a gasp. She wanted all of him, and that included his unbound hair. She couldn't have begun to express why that aroused her so much, except that it seemed like such an intimacy. Except that his hair was never completely free but was always tied back, or restrained by the thong around his forehead. Except when he was loving her.

  Lifting a hand, Gideon yanked the leather from his hair and threw it across the room. Then he grabbed the snaps of his shirt and ripped them open. Sara's hands were there immediately, reaching out to help him pull the cloth from his shoulders. A violent shudder ripped through him as her breasts brushed the smooth skin of his chest.

  "Sara…" Her name emerged on a deep groan as he gathered her closer.

  She raised her arms and plowed her fingers into his long, dark hair, finding his scalp and then grabbing handfuls of his mane to tug his mouth down to hers. He liked it. Oh, God, he liked the way she demanded from him, liked the way she grabbed and pulled him closer. And now she was stretched against him, her breasts crushed to the hard wall of his chest. Roughly, almost urgently, his palms swept the long, silky length of her back and closed on her soft, full rump. With another groan he tightened his grip and lifted her against him.

  Sara tore her mouth from his and threw back her head, arching against him, still clutching handfuls of his hair. A moan escaped her as for the first time in her life a man's body fitted intimately to hers. Two layers of denim were suddenly all that lay between her and fulfillment. Wanting more, so much more, she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips, settling the hard ridge of his arousal even more snugly against herself. And even that was not nearly enough.

  If it were possible, his powerful arms tightened even more around her, pressing her so close now that she could barely breathe. The world spun wildly, and then she found herself lying on her back on the quilt of his bed. Her knees were still locked around his hips, and he knelt over her, bearing his weight on his elbows.

  "Lord, Sara," he muttered, and began dropping hot little kisses over her cheek and neck. "You turn a man inside out."

  Fear struck her, freezing passion in an instant. "Is that—is that bad?"

  Her words stilled him. For what felt like an eternity, Gideon didn't move, didn't breathe. Finally he spoke harshly. "I'll kill him. If I ever lay eyes on that son of a bitch, I'll kill him."

  "Who?" Sara asked, confused, afraid that she had somehow revolted him.

  "George Cumberland, that's who. The man— Man? Hell, I won't even dignify him with that. The creep who made you feel something is wrong with you. There's not a damn thing wrong with you, Mouse. Not a one. As for being turned inside out, it's never happened to me before, but I'm loving every minute of it."

  Except that now he was mad. Growling with frustration, he rose from the bed and stripped off the rest of his clothes—the boots, the socks, the jeans, the briefs. Sara couldn't see a thing but dark shadows flying this way and that, but she heard the thumps and muttered curses.

  And then he was with her again. Reaching out, he pulled her against his naked body and settled one hand on her denim-
clad bottom.

  "Let's talk about this, Mouse," he said roughly.

  "Talk about what?" Her voice was little more than a tentative whisper. He was mad, and she knew it was her fault, and something inside her squeezed painfully as she waited for Gideon to tell her what she had done wrong. To enumerate her failures. God, she was no good at being a woman. Hadn't George said that? How could she have forgotten?

  "This. Cumberland. How you feel. How you make me feel. And whether you really want to do this."

  "But—" He silenced her with a finger over her mouth before she could protest that she did, indeed, really want to do this. That she thought she would die if she didn't.

  "Relax," he said softly. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. Believe me, Mouse, you'll have to throw me out. But there are obviously a couple of things that need clearing up."

  She wished she could see his face. Wished she could see him as he was now, completely nude. And was glad the darkness hid her from him. "Such as?"

  "Such as how you make me feel. I've been wanting to make love with you since the night you rescued me from those rednecks. I kid you not. I was standing there, hating having to be rescued by a woman, and getting so turned on by your voice I was worried you'd notice."

  "My voice?"

  "Your voice is husky and sexy and enough to drive a man out of his mind. From the first word you spoke, I was having visions of being with you like this. Before I even noticed what a beautiful rear end you have. Before I realized that you've got the sexiest little sway when you walk. Before you wore that denim skirt and I got an eyeful of your legs. I've been wanting to kiss your knees for a solid week now. And as for your breasts…"

  Sara gasped and arched as his mouth suddenly closed over the aching mound of her breast and his tongue teased her nipple into hardness.

  "As for your breasts," he said huskily a short while later, "any more than a mouthful is wasted. I don't know what was the matter with George, Mouse, but there sure as hell isn't a problem with your sex appeal."

  Shivering with longing and heat, Sara lay against him and hung on for dear life, waiting for the world to settle down again. He didn't give it much chance.

  "Now, about turning me inside out," he continued, his voice deep and throaty as he reached for the snap of her jeans. "Babe, I love it. I love it when you grab me and pull me closer. I love it when you kiss me, when you touch me, and I hope to heaven you'll be making a lot more demands on me before this night is out. Get bossy. Tell me what you want and make me give you enough of it, because, sweet little mouse, there's no bigger turn-on in the world for me than knowing you want me, too."

  His words were as arousing as any touch he had given her, and spirals of shimmering need swirled through her, reaching her core and leaving her damp. "Gideon," she whispered achingly. "Oh, Gideon…"

  He tugged the snap on her jeans and released it. At the sound, her entire center seemed to clamp with an almost painful throb of need.

  "Tell me now, Mouse," he said. "Tell me now. Another thirty seconds and nothing will stop me."

  "Don't stop," she said hoarsely. "Don't ever stop."

  The husky demand nearly pushed him right over the edge, but he caught himself before he acted on it. Liquid fire lapped at his loins, and his lungs strained for more air, and he hadn't yet even removed her jeans. God, had he ever gotten so hot so fast? So easily?

  Her boots resisted his tugs, but only briefly. He peeled her jeans and panties down her legs without regard to modesty. It was dark, after all, so there was no reason why she should be embarrassed or shy.

  And then they were pressed together, naked skin to naked skin. Sara drew a shuddering breath and dug her nails into his shoulders. "Oh, you feel so good…"

  And it was so unbelievably intimate to be pressed to him this way. She could feel every line of him, including his hard arousal and the thicket of hair from which it sprang. And almost as if it had a mind of its own, her hand slipped downward and closed around him. She had never touched a man so boldly, but the need to touch Gideon that way overwhelmed every inhibition. He was big. He was hard. He was built like a warrior, she thought dizzily.

  Gideon sucked air through his teeth as her curious touch unleashed rivers of fire in his blood. Slowly, helplessly, he rocked his hips and rubbed himself against her palm.

  Grasping the idea, her natural shyness warring with an equally natural desire to drive him out of his mind, Sara mimicked the motion with her hand. And smiled into the dark when Gideon groaned. "You like that?" she whispered. Even that much was hard to say when she felt so breathless, so hot, so excited.

  He was in little better state. He answered in a whisper that sounded as if air was in short supply. "Oh, yeah!" Sara's hands were not a soft woman's hands. They were hardworking hands, callused and strong, but the roughness was just a new titillation, and for a few moments he let himself enjoy the sheer magic of her touch.

  Pleasuring Gideon was the most powerful aphrodisiac Sara had ever experienced. A low, steady throbbing began in her, seeming to time itself to the motions of her hands and the slight, subtle movements of Gideon's hips as she touched him. Unconsciously, she clamped her legs together tighter and tighter, trying to ease the growing ache, trying to banish the increasing sense of emptiness. Unconsciously she began to rock her own hips, seeking more.

  Then suddenly, almost before she knew it was happening, Gideon pushed her onto her back and captured her hands above her head. One of his long, powerful legs settled between hers and began to move slowly up and down, pressing, retreating. Sara caught her breath and clamped her legs together, catching Gideon between them.

  He gave a soft, deep laugh. "Ah, she likes that." Before Sara could manage a response, he covered her mouth with his and stole her breath in a stunningly erotic kiss. His tongue and leg moved in matched rhythms, causing her womb to throb in response. Forgetting everything but what she was feeling, Sara arched, pressing herself to him. More. Harder. Deeper. She clutched at him with her legs, undulated against him and made little sounds deep in her throat.

  And he loved it. Oh, damn, did he love it. With one hand he held her wrists above her head, using the other to prop himself above her. After a quick nip at her lower lip, he took his mouth from hers and moved lower, seeking those small, shy breasts. When his tongue found her, she arched as tightly as a drawn bow and moaned his name.

  The sound was like liquid heat pouring into his ears and running to the farthest, darkest reaches of his body. Of his soul. The sounds of this woman's pleasure affected him as no other's had. The feel of her silky skin beneath his palm was warmer, smoother, than any he had ever touched. Each slender, graceful line of her seemed precious, perfect.

  He wanted her … wanted her … wanted her. The desire was like a drumbeat in his hot blood, hammering at him, driving him. Not sure he could wait much longer, he slipped his hand downward, heading toward her womanhood, needing to feel her heat. Needing to measure her readiness.

  She stiffened at the first touch of his fingers, stiffened and grew utterly still. He was past stopping now, though. Well past. He found slick folds and pressed further, drawing a gasp from her as he slipped a finger into her. Just a little way. Just enough to feel her wetness.

  She panted. Once. Twice. Again. Then he drew his now wet finger upward until he found that tiny knot of nerves, that one place that could push her to the brink. Gently, carefully, he stroked her.

  "Do it for me, Mouse," he whispered huskily. "Do it for me."

  She had no idea what he meant, but she was in no condition to care. Each touch of his fingers sent ribbons of electricity through her and built the growing ache at her center. When he released her hands, she reached for him, needing him closer. Needing to be filled by him, crushed by him. Needing him … needing him … needing him…

  "Gideon … oh, Gideon, please … please…"

  Her broken whispers and pleas, her clutching hands, snapped his last thread of control. With fumbling fingers he grabbed the prot
ection he had stashed in the night table a week ago when it began to seem he might lose his head over this woman.

  "Gideon…"

  "Just a second, Mouse. Just a—" There. Ready now, he eased her legs apart and knelt between them. She stilled, and a moment of perfect clarity settled over him. For an instant he rose above the swamping haze of passion, moved away from the throbbing of his own body. This was, he recognized, no simple act of passion gone out of control. Like a crystal note, the understanding resounded in his soul. This was special.

  But his body's demands surged again, muddying thought and bringing him back to the elemental level of a man loving a woman. Leaning forward, he pressed the heel of his palm to Sara's mound and rubbed gently until her hips were arching, reaching for him, and she was whispering his name brokenly, again and again.

  "That's it, Mouse," he whispered encouragingly. "That's it." Leaning forward, he found her moist opening with the tip of his shaft. Pleasure swept through him like an electric shock as he leaned into her. Pressed into her. Sought relief and release in her hot, slick depths.

  And then he swore.

  * * *

  Sara felt the light like twin knives in her eyes. Confused, startled, she blinked and tried to see the face of the man who hovered over her, the man whose body was partially embedded in hers. Why had he sworn? Why had he switched on the light? "Gideon?"

  Eyes closed, he muttered a string of imprecations that turned the air blue and made Sara's cheeks rosy. She'd heard plenty on the job, but Gideon knew all of the worst ones.

  "Gideon?"

  His eyes snapped open, and dark gray steel bore down into her. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you'd never done this before?"

  "Why the hell did you think I had?" she demanded, frustration fueling her normally somnolent temper.

  "Because … because you almost got married!"

  "So? Nice girls don't—"

  He caught her face between his hands and shook her. Just a little. With incredible gentleness, considering he looked mad enough to kill. "Nice girls don't?" he repeated roughly. "Then what the hell are you doing in bed with a naked half-breed savage?"