Arizona Caress: She Feels The Heat Of His Hot Embrace

by Bobbi Smith

  "I don't like being made a fool of," he growled as he began to scrub her scalp and hair with the soap. He took great delight in the effort and, remembering his anger, dunked her thoroughly to rinse the lather from her hair.

  "Stop it!" she raged.

  "I'm not going to stop until every inch of you is clean, including your mouth if you don't shut it!" He held the bar of soap up threateningly, and she quickly shut up.

  Chance knew he should stop, but somehow as he continued to touch her, exploring her face, neck, and shoulders, his anger subtly altered. The awareness he'd denied before in the heat of his fury, he could no longer ignore. A fire burned within him, a fire that drove him to explore every inch of her silken flesh.

  Chance eased his grip on her waist as he moved lower with the soap, rubbing it over the rounded swells of her upthrust breasts. The burgeoning orbs glistened in the moonlight as he lathered them, and he felt himself grow heavy with desire as the peaks hardened beneath his ministrations. Chance's touch became less demanding and more tender. He noticed distractedly that her efforts to escape had ceased for the moment, and so he released his hold on her waist and cupped his hands to dip up enough water to rinse the creamy foam from her skin.

  Rori didn't know how it had happened, but she was mesmerized. Chance's threats had frightened her, but his touch had created such an overwhelming sense of excitement within her that it had overruled everything else she was feeling. Logically, she knew she should continue to try to get away from him, but the enjoyment of his wet, slippery caresses held her still. She thrilled at the feel of his hands upon her. She was enjoying the wild sensations that having him touching her created. Her head was thrown back now, her eyes closed, her breathing slightly labored as she gave herself over to the sensuality of the moment.

  Chance paused to look down at her, and he had to stifle a groan. Droplets of water on her breasts beckoned to him to kiss them away, and all thought of who she was and where they were fled his mind. The soap slid unnoticed from his hand as he bent to her, his lips seeking out those peaks of pleasure.

  The contact was so unexpected, so alien and so shocking to Rori that she reacted without thought. Jarred back to reality, she shoved at Chance's shoulders with all her might and sent him tumbling backward into the water. It took her a second to realize that she was free of him, and then she ran for the bank, hoping to escape before he could come after her.

  One moment Rori had been in his arms, willing, and the next Chance had found himself near drowning as she fled his embrace. He recovered quickly and charged after her.

  "Oh, no you don't!"

  Rori had no breath to shout at him, and she glanced back over her shoulder at him as she scrambled for safety. In a furious lunge, he launched himself at her fleeing form and managed to tackle her just as she was about to get out of the pond. They landed heavily in just a few inches of water. Wild with fear and uncontrollable terror, Rori tried to crawl away from him, and she made it a short distance up the bank before he was on top of her again, rolling her over to face him. The long, hard length of his body was pressed fully to hers, pinning her effectively to the ground.

  "You're not getting away from me. Not now . . ."

  Rori could feel the strength of him between her thighs and knew real panic.

  "No!" She flailed at him, hitting him wherever she could in hopes of trying to dislodging him. "Don't . . ."

  Rori's efforts were futile against Chance's superior strength. He ignored her pleas, easily pinning her arms above her head.

  "That's the last time you'll ever take me by surprise, little girl." He smiled wolfishly down at her. "The last time . . ."

  Then with measured intent, Chance lowered his head to claim her lips in a kiss that was meant to master, to subjugate, to teach her who was the man and who was the woman.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rori had started to protest just as Chance moved to kiss her, and he took full advantage, capturing her open lips in a domineering exchange. When he boldly took full possession of her mouth, his tongue delving into its honeyed sweetness, Rori went rigid in shock. She had never imagined he would kiss her this way. She groaned in outrage as she twisted and bucked beneath him, trying to get him to break it off.

  Chance was not about to be denied, though. Sensing her upset, he changed his tack, easing up on the kiss, yet not freeing her completely. His mouth, once bent on conquering hers, became teasing. His body, once meant to pin her to the ground and hold her immobile, now shifted, molding itself intimately to her softer curves. He still held her hands pinioned above her head, but now used only one of his to hold her. His free hand he used to caress the slimness of her rib cage and then slip up higher to capture the fullness of one breast.

  "I hate you!" Rori cried hoarsely, breaking away from his kiss. Shock waves were resounding through her at the boldness of his touch.

  Chance only chuckled at her declaration, though, for the peak of her breast was taut against his palm. She might fight him and try to deny what she was feeling, but her body's response betrayed her words. She was responding to him . . .

  Rori was frightened and confused. Every nerve in her body was alive and tingling from his caresses, and an ache, deep and coiling, was growing like a slow-spreading fire low in the womanly heart of her. She instinctively wanted to move against Chance, to rub her hips against his, for they were fitted tightly, erotically against her. It felt so good to be near him, but somehow, despite all the wild excitement that coursed through her, she knew it was wrong . . . all wrong!

  "You have to stop!"

  "Why?" Chance asked huskily, kissing her again. Images formed in his mind as he continued to caress her. Images of Rori watching him as he bathed, images of Rori caught staring at him so blatantly earlier that day. "You want me. Admit it," he coaxed.

  Rori groaned inwardly. He wasn't even supposed to know that she was a girl, let alone touch her this way . . . and yet it felt so good to have his hands upon her and to be this close to him. Had she always, instinctively known that it would be this way between them? Was he right? Had she always wanted this . . . him?

  Chance broke off the kiss to gaze down at her. There was still a small grain of logic alive within his thoughts warning him that this was wrong, telling him that this was Rori . . . a young girl . . . a child, really, and that he should get as far away from her as he could. But as he stared down into her wide, wonderful green eyes and saw the tumultuous emotions reflected there, he was overcome by a sudden rush of tenderness. Confusion was clearly mirrored in the depths of her gaze, along with the desire she felt for him, but was trying to deny.

  "You're beautiful," he murmured, pressing his lips to her throat.

  Rori almost laughed at his words. Her? Beautiful? But the feel of his lips on her neck and shoulders wiped all thought of speaking from her mind. A shiver of excited anticipation caused her to arch up into the hardness of him, begging, no, demanding something more from him.

  When she offered herself to him in that age-old innocent way, Chance was lost. The throbbing in his loins was clamoring for immediate release, clamoring for oneness with this woman/child. It was elemental. She was woman. He was man. He trailed his kisses lower, caressing her shoulder and then down . . . down to suckle at her breasts.

  One last burst of fear caught Rori.

  "Chance . . . I . . . " She tried to tell him how afraid she was of all the new sensations that were shuddering through her. Her breath caught in her throat at the feel of his hot, wet mouth moving erotically over her sensitive flesh, and ecstasy flooded through her. "Oh, please . . ." Rori groaned, but she wasn't sure if she wanted him to stop or continue.

  Chance knew the tumult of emotion she was feeling, for the heat of his own need was pressing hard against the nest of her softness. He released her hands and continued to lave her breasts with kisses until she was moving restlessly beneath him, her hands clutching at his back in desperation. He found suddenly that pleasing her was utmost in his mind. He wanted
her to know the ecstasy of loving. He wanted to take her to the heights.

  "Easy, little love," he murmured, one hand moving ever lower to claim the very essence of her.

  Though Rori knew the rudiments of the sex act, she had not really expected that Chance would actually touch her there. Still, when he did it, she did not try to block him, but opened to him as a flower in bloom. It seemed natural and right to her. She wanted him . . . had wanted him for so long. She ached to hold him close . . . to have him satisfy the sweet pain that throbbed within the heart of her.

  At Rori's complete acquiescence to his touch, Chance reacted on instinct. He wanted her—God, how he wanted her—and she was warm, wet, and wild for him. He delayed no longer in freeing himself from his pants and fitting himself to her. His lips met hers, his tongue surging within, just as he positioned himself against the portals of her femininity.

  Rori's eyes rounded as she felt the bold strength of him seeking entrance to her body. He was so big! The thought echoed through her mind. She remembered her scathing insult of that morning and knew she'd been wrong, very wrong.

  Lost in the fire of the moment, Chance thrust forward, sheathing himself in Rori's virginal sweetness. The pain for Rori was brief, but knifelike in intensity. She went rigid, tensing against his alien invasion of her body.

  The shock of discovering her untouched state left Chance bewildered and confused, but he could no more stop making love to her than he could have stopped breathing. He wanted her as he'd never wanted another. He had to love her.

  "Easy, sweet," Chance murmured thickly, surprised to find that he wanted to ease the agony she was feeling. He continued to stroke and caress her, wanting to replace the pain with pleasure, wanting to reawaken the desire she'd felt. "The pain will pass . . . just relax . . ."

  Chance could feel the tension slowly ebbing from her, and he bent to kiss her. As his mouth moved over hers in a flaming exchange, Rori felt the excitement blossom within her again, and she moved her hips slightly, testing the discomfort—fearful, yet wanting to know more.

  "You're right . . ." she whispered in amazement, breaking off the kiss as she found the worst had passed, and there was no more pain.

  "It can only get better, love, I promise," he vowed in a hoarse voice.

  Chance began to move then, his control broken. His hard-driving body was a passionate, fiery brand against hers, claiming her as his own as he plunged deep within her. Caught up in her own desire, Rori clung to him, understanding to meet his pleasure-giving thrusts without being told. She wanted this as much as he did, and her heart soared at the thought of being in his arms. She could feel the thrilling delight building and though she didn't know what waited for her beyond that cresting peak, she gave herself over to Chance's expertise without question.

  Rapture claimed them both at the same time, sending them rocketing to the heights of ecstasy and beyond. Chance had never known passion so fulfilling. He clasped Rori to him in a possessive yet tender embrace, and for that short period of time before awareness returned, he was enraptured.

  Rori was stunned by the wonder of what had happened. She lay quietly in his arms savoring the feelings that filled her. It had been more than she'd ever dreamed . . . it had been perfect. She sighed and nestled against him contentedly.

  As with all things, nothing lasts forever. Just the softness of her sigh brought the harshness of reality crashing back in on Chance, and he stiffened. What had he done? Chance jerked back, away from Rori and stared down at her flushed, contented features. She looked like a child as she gazed up at him questioningly, and major guilt seared his soul. Good God! What had come over him? How could he have been so stupid? This was Rori . . . she was only a child! Dear Lord, he'd only just discovered she was a girl and then promptly stolen her innocence. What the hell was the matter with him? Chance glanced nervously back toward the camp, fully expecting to see Burr coming after him with a shotgun and knowing he deserved it.

  Rori saw his furtive look back toward camp and saw the play of guilty emotion on his face and grew suddenly furious. So he was ashamed of having made love to her, was he? How could she have been such an idiot?!

  "Get off of me, you . . . !" Rori spat, shoving at his shoulders and pushing him away from her.

  "Rori? What . . .?" Chance had been so caught up in his concern about her that he had no idea what she was talking about.

  "You arrogant ass! I said get off of me!" Rori finally managed to disentangle herself from his embrace.

  "But I thought . . ."

  "You thought what, white man? That we might do it again as long as nobody saw you?" She quickly grabbed her clothes and began to dress. She was angry with him and mad at herself. She'd always known it was dangerous to let him touch her, and yet when he had, she hadn't fought him off nearly hard enough. Hell, Rori thought in disgust, she'd thrilled to his caresses! She'd fallen into his arms like a lovesick puppy, damn him! And now that he'd taken her, he was sorry that he'd done it. She could see the regret in his eyes. Was it because she was part Indian that he was sorry he'd touched her?

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm sorry I ever let you near me!" Rori lashed out at him, angry with him for being ashamed of her and hurt because she cared.

  The regret Chance had been feeling over the taking of her innocence disappeared before her hostility, and all the tender feelings he'd been harboring vanished.

  "No sorrier than I am!" he returned, wondering how he could have forgotten what Rori was like even for that short period of time.

  "Well, you don't have to worry about this ever happening again," she continued, refusing to let him have the last word, refusing to let him see how much he'd wounded her. "Tonight was the biggest mistake of my life, and I plan to make sure it isn't repeated. From now on, just keep the hell away from me!"

  "It'll be my pleasure," Chance told her sarcastically, a little upset that she was so eager to be away from him and that she so obviously wanted nothing more to do with him. This had never happened to him before. He had always been the one to end associations with his female friends, but then, he thought, Rori was not like any other woman he'd ever known. Straightening his clothing in abrupt angry motions, Chance wished that he'd never jumped into the pond to teach Rori a lesson in the first place.

  At Chance's cruel words, Rori's eyes flashed emerald fire, and her heart twisted in anguish with emotions she didn't understand.

  "If you value your hide, you won't tell my grandpa about any of this," Rori threatened, suddenly fearful of what Burr would say if he found out.

  "Don't worry, Rori. I'm not about to tell him anything. This isn't something I'm exactly proud of."

  Her gaze flew to his face, but his features were stony and his eyes cold. One part of her wanted to launch herself back into his arms, to tell him that what happened between them had meant the world to her. Another part of her, a more realistic, more logical part, told her that his indifference was the best thing that had ever happened to her, that the man wasn't worth a hill of beans, and that she should forget him—the sooner the better.

  Yet, even as she acknowledged that her more logical side was right, Chance's confession that he was sorry for having made love to her hit her hard. She didn't say another word as tears burned her eyes. She turned away from him, finished dressing, and stalked off back to camp. Rori dropped down on her bedroll, and, still fighting the tears that threatened, she began plaiting her still damp hair with numb, shaking fingers. Damn him . . . damn him . . . damn him . . . The words ran in a continuous litany in her mind.

  Big Jake, as if sensing something was wrong, got up from where he rested and moved silently to her side. He sat down beside her in such a way that he ended up leaning against her.

  "Ah, Jakie . . ." Rori slipped an arm around the brute of a dog and buried her face in his soft golden coat washing that gentle fur with her tears, and he gave a low whine of sympathy.

  "You understand, Jakie . . . I know you do. I just wish I
did . . ." Agony born of confusion tore through her, for she knew, had Chance asked her, she would have stayed in his arms all night.

  Knowing that he might return to camp at any time, Rori forced herself to stop crying and released Jakie so she could finish fixing her braids. Jake didn't leave her, though, and when her hair was done, he stretched out beside her on her blankets. He curled up close, and she gathered him even nearer, hugging the big animal to her heart as best she could manage.

  "The faster we get to sleep, Jakie, the faster this whole thing will be over with, and he'll be gone. We'll be rid of him," she confided, and as she thought of being parted from Chance, her tears began again.

  Chance's expression had remained blank as he'd watched Rori walk back to camp. As he followed her movements, noting now the gentle sway of her hips and the hint of her curves beneath the soft buckskin, he wondered how he could ever have mistaken her for a boy. Chance had always considered himself a man-about-town, and it surprised him to discover that he wasn't as observant as he'd prided himself on being.

  Oddly, Chance found himself worrying about how much longer Rori would be able to get away with pretending to be a boy. No doubt, the loose-fitting garments and bruised face had helped with her disguise, but if the truth of her femininity came out, she might find herself in real trouble in town.

  When Chance realized the direction of his thoughts, he frowned. What did he care what happened to her? Rori was as obstinate and ornery as the day was long. If anyone ever needed protection in a confrontation with her, it would be whoever chose to take her on, not Rori.

  Chance still couldn't believe what had happened to him . . . that he'd lost complete control and made love to her the way he had, but then they'd been striking sparks off each other from the very beginning. He wanted to believe that it had just been the surprising shock of discovering she was a girl that had ignited their moment of passion in the pond. Surely, it had been nothing more, just a momentary thing.