Sliding her arms up and around his neck, she arched the front of her body into his. The warm curves pressing into his flesh were impossible to ignore, and with a will of their own, his arms wrapped around her waist and anchored her tightly against him.
“I think you’re afraid to admit that you want me,” she said softly. “And I don’t understand why.”
“I’ll be gone from here in a few days.” Strange how that fact was beginning to weigh on him. Any other time he’d be looking forward to heading home to Three Rivers.
“That’s more good reason why we shouldn’t waste this time, Matthew.”
Like Gabby and Sam, he thought. The couple wanted to make the most of the years they had left. But they were different, he mentally argued. They were in love.
Love. Like hell, Matthew thought cynically. If he waited on love to find him, he’d be living the rest of his life like a monk. This thing he felt for Camille was pure, hot lust and that’s all it ever would be.
He looked down at her and as their eyes met, he felt the tight grip he had on his self-control snap. Relief flooded through him, followed by a rampant wave of desire.
“Time. No,” he murmured. “We don’t have enough.”
Deliberately pushing any more thought from his mind, he lowered his mouth to hers.
His sign of surrender must have pleased her because her lips were suddenly moving against his in a way that was both tender and enticing. No woman had ever kissed him like this. Like he was precious and something to cherish. Matthew realized he didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want this connection with her to end.
When the need for air finally parted their lips, Camille buried her cheek against his chest. “Oh, Matthew, this isn’t wrong.”
He groaned as his hands roamed her back. “Even if it’s wrong I can’t fight you anymore.”
Lifting her head, she touched her fingertips to his cheek, and in that instant, fear slashed through him. This wasn’t the way she was supposed to be looking at him, or touching him. And the middle of his chest wasn’t supposed to feel like warm mush.
“I don’t want you to fight anything,” she whispered. Then, taking his hand, she led him out of the kitchen.
* * *
With her hand wrapped firmly around his, Camille didn’t let go until they’d climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom. Except for the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains on the window, the room was dark.
“If you promise not to run off, I’ll let go of your hand and switch on the lamp.”
“I don’t need a lamp. I have cat eyes,” he said. “And you don’t need to worry about me running off. Not tonight.”
Not tonight. But maybe tomorrow? The question flashed through her mind, but she purposely pushed it to a dark, out-of-the-way place.
“Tonight is all that matters,” she whispered. Then, rising on the tips of her toes, she pressed her lips to his.
With his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, he kissed her so deeply that her head began to swirl, and with the slow, drunken whirl, a kaleidoscope of colors flashed behind her closed eyelids.
When he finally lifted his head, they were both dazed and panting.
“I hope you have some sort of birth control,” he said gruffly. “Because I came down here to herd cattle. Not this.”
She very nearly laughed. “No worries. I take oral contraceptives. So we’re good.”
A long breath rushed out of him. “That’s a relief. Because right now I don’t think I could drive all the way to Benson for a box of condoms. And I sure as heck couldn’t walk out of this room without making you mine.”
Loving the sound of that, she reached for the snaps on his shirt. “And I sure as heck don’t intend to let you out of this room for a long, long time.”
She pulled the fabric apart and then promptly pressed a row of kisses across his chest, down the center of his abdomen, then back up to one flat nipple. He allowed her tongue to circle it once, twice, and then he was pulling her head back.
“That has to wait.” His raspy voice sounded like a man in agony. “Until we get out of these clothes.”
“Then let’s do something about them,” she said in a low, seductive voice.
Reaching up, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down over his wrists. As it dropped to the floor, her hands came together on his belt buckle.
“Let me,” he said. “It’ll go faster.”
Deciding faster was better, Camille turned the job over to him and began shedding her own clothing. Once she’d stripped down to a set of lacy black lingerie, she momentarily considered leaving the last two garments on, then just as quickly decided against it. She didn’t want anything, not even two strips of tiny fabric, coming between them.
Once she was finished, she looked over to see he’d sunk onto the edge of the bed to pull off his boots.
She quickly swept his hands aside. “Let me do that chore for you, cowboy.”
Leaning back on the mattress, he lifted both legs, and Camille went to work removing his boots. They slipped off easily and after setting them aside, she tugged his jeans and boxers down over his feet.
The last of his clothing had hardly had time to hit the floor before he leaned up and snaked an arm around her waist. He pulled her down beside him and Camille couldn’t get her arms around him fast enough.
He turned on his side and, with a hand at the back of her waist, pressed the length of her body close to his.
“Camille,” he whispered against the side of her hair. “I can’t believe I have you next to me—like this.”
The awe in his voice matched the same wondrous feeling rushing through her. It was euphoric to the point of being scary, she thought. Having Matthew’s naked body next to hers wasn’t supposed to feel this good. But it did, and she couldn’t wipe the smile from her lips or stop her hands from racing over the hard muscles of his arms and back.
“And I can’t believe how incredible it feels to touch you. To have you close.” She thrust her hand into his hair and allowed the blond curls to slip slowly through her fingers. “I’ve been dreaming about this—about us. If this is a dream, Matthew, then don’t let me wake up.”
In the moonlight, she could see his eyes sweeping over her face, and for a moment she thought she saw something real and tender in the gray depths.
“You’re not dreaming, sweetheart. Let me prove it to you.”
With that, he covered her lips with his in a kiss that was so all-consuming she could only grip his shoulders and hang on for dear life. But he didn’t stop with just one kiss. He planted several more of them on her eager lips before he finally departed her moist mouth and started a downward trail to her breasts.
By the time he reached one nipple, Camille’s breaths were coming in short, shallow sips. Her limbs felt heavy and lifeless, while the rest of her body felt as though it had been torched by a thousand sunbursts.
He suckled the center of her breast until the needy ache inside her became so unbearable, she lifted his head from the throbbing nipple.
“Matthew—I can’t keep waiting!”
“Yes—you can,” he said thickly. “Just a little longer.”
Before she could protest, his head dropped back to the other breast, and for long moments he gave it the same erotic treatment as he had the other. And then, seemingly satisfied that he’d branded that part of her body, his mouth moved away from her breasts and began a downward trail, along her rib cage and onto her stomach.
When he reached her belly button, he paused long enough to circle it with the tip of his tongue before he moved lower still. The pulsating ache between Camille’s thighs had reached the point of agony, and she was about to push his head completely away when his tongue suddenly touched the intimate folds of her womanhood.
“Oooh, Matthew! I—this is—too good—too much!”
Through a foggy daze, she recognized her hands were clenching fists full of his hair and her legs were wrapped around his waist. She allowed both to fall away from him and he immediately moved up and positioned himself over her.
Breathing hard, she lifted her gaze to his. “If you’re trying to kill me, you’re coming awfully close.”
Smiling, he bent his head and rubbed his cheek against hers. “I’m only trying to please you, sweet Camille. That’s all.”
She framed his face with both hands and lifted it just enough for her to look into his eyes. “Everything about you pleases me, Matthew.”
He smiled down at her. “Even my stubbornness?”
“Even that,” she said with a sigh, then pulled his mouth down to hers.
He was quick to take control, and as he kissed her, Camille tasted hot desire, but something else, too. Something very sweet and very tender and so strong it brought a rush of tears to her eyes.
Not wanting him to feel the salty moisture on her cheeks, she furiously blinked it back and slipped her arms around him.
The kiss stoked the fire that was already burning between them, and the familiar ache to her body connected to his started all over again.
To her relief, he didn’t make her wait. He entered her with one smooth thrust and then they were both moving together as one, giving and taking with a need so fierce it robbed the breath from her lungs and set her mind free of every single thought but him.
After a long time, or maybe only a few short minutes—Camille couldn’t know because she’d lost all sense of time—she felt Matthew urging her faster and faster to the edge of a deep abyss. She didn’t want to go there. Because she knew that once she fell, the incredible pleasure he was giving her would all end.
Yet no matter how much she stubbornly tried to hold back, his kisses and the driving thrust of his hips kept tugging and pulling forward, until she had no choice but to follow him.
She heard the harsh intake of his breaths above her, and then he was repeating her name over and over as he clutched her hips and poured himself into her.
Camille clung to him tightly and as she buried her face against his damp chest, she knew her life had been forever changed.
Chapter Seven
Matthew turned his head on the mattress and looked at Camille’s tangled hair and sweat-sheened face. Her eyes were closed, but not in sleep. Her breasts were still rising and falling at a rapid pace, and beneath his hand, he could feel the wild thump of her heart.
The past few minutes had stunned him, and as his gaze slipped over her smooth little nose and perfectly bowed lips, he wondered if this was how it felt to actually make love.
Matthew didn’t know. He only knew that it hadn’t been anything like the sex he’d had with his ex-wife, or any other woman for that matter. This union with Camille had been mind-bending, and he still wasn’t sure his senses had returned to full working order.
Her hand moved gently against the middle of his chest. “Mmm. I think we should get under the covers. Don’t you?”
No, he thought. He should get out of her bedroom as fast as he could. But that idea was totally ludicrous. He could no more leave her side than he could cut off his arm.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Then we’ll get under the covers,” he told her.
They both shifted around on the bed until their heads were resting on the pillows and a comforter was covering their bodies.
She snuggled her face into the curve of his neck, and Matthew lifted a long strand of her hair and tested the silky texture between his fingers. Touching her was a precious gift, and he decided that until his time here at Red Bluff was over, he was going to take all the gifts she offered him. Because once he went back to Three Rivers, he knew this thing with her would be over.
“You smell like lily of the valley,” he said as he nuzzled his nose in the side of her hair.
A wan smile touched her lips. “How do you know about lilies of the valley?”
“My mother used to wear that scent. That is, whenever she had the money to buy a small bottle.”
“It’s a simple, old-fashioned fragrance. I suppose that’s why I like it. That, and my Great-Grandmother Hollister used to wear it. When I was a little girl she would let me brush her hair and if I did a good job, she’d treat me by dabbing lily of the valley on my neck and wrist. It made me feel like a princess.”
“Does it make you feel like a princess now?”
Her fingers slid up and down his arm. “No. But it fills me with warm memories of her and that’s even more special.”
As he absently stroked his fingers through her hair, he thought about her family and how, in many ways, she was a frontier princess. From the day she was born, Camille’s roots were already set deep and solid, whereas Matthew’s were so shallow and weak it was a miracle he’d managed to grow into any kind of decent man. The differences between them were staggering, yet here in her bed, with her hands touching him so tenderly, it felt like he belonged in her life and she in his.
“Three Rivers Ranch has been around so long it’s a part of Arizona history. I’ve often wondered what it feels like to come from that sort of legacy. God knows, I’ll never experience the feeling.”
Her arm settled across his chest and she hugged him close. “You’ve been at Three Rivers for fourteen years. You’ve become a part of the family.”
In many ways that was true, Matthew thought. Joel and Maureen had taken him in and treated him like a son. He would always love them for giving him a home.
“In a way,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m a Waggoner. Ask anyone around Gila Bend what that name means. My father and uncle left their own kind of legacy.”
“You’re not in Gila Bend anymore,” she gently reminded him. “And you’re making your name into something to be proud of.”
“Hmm. Right now you’re feeling soft and generous. In the daylight you’ll see me differently.”
She pressed a tiny kiss to the side of his neck. “I’ve studied you close up in the daylight and I like what I see.”
“That’s because you’re wearing rose-colored sunglasses.”
Smiling, she gently pinched his arm and then she let out a wistful sigh. “Sometimes, Matthew, being a Hollister isn’t easy. Did you know the ranch has been going since 1847?”
“Yes.”
“Most all of the Hollisters have devoted their lives to the ranch. Some of them even lost their lives in a range war. And then there are the ones like me and Viv, and Joe. And Uncle Gil. He left Three Rivers and became a lawman. He’s the reason Joe got the itch to be a deputy.”
“And where did you get the itch to be a cook? From your great-grandmother who wore lily of the valley?”
She laughed softly and he momentarily closed his eyes and enjoyed the light, tinkling sound. Until he’d gone to work for the Hollisters he’d never heard much laughter. Oh, Renee had laughed, he thought. But most of the time it had been a cynical sound directed at him. She’d rarely laughed with him. But why would she? Nothing about living with him had made her happy.
As though Camille had been reading his mind, she suddenly asked, “Why did you ever marry Renee?”
He grimaced. “Don’t you think this is an awkward time to be asking me that question?”
Propping up her head with her hand, she gazed down at him. “No. I happen to think it’s the perfect time. Because I’ve wondered if you ever wanted her back in your life. In your bed.”
He moved his head back and forth against the pillow. “I married Renee because I was very young and didn’t know any better. I thought we would be partners. And at that time in my life I really needed one. Someone at my side to support me and encourage me.” He paused and let out a cynical snort. “Hellfire, I’ve never been so wrong about anyone as I was about her. She had no intentions of ever being a cowboy’s wife. As soon as the ink dried on the marriage license, she tried to change me. When I refused, she lit out. It was that simple. And no, once she was gone, all I felt was relief. And stupidity.”
Her blue eyes traveled softly over his face. “That’s the way I felt about Graham,” she admitted. “Stupid.”
“So why did you ever get engaged to him? I knew right off that he was a jerk.”
She let out a low, self-deprecating groan. “I thought being engaged to a rich banker’s son would show everybody that I wasn’t just the spoiled baby Hollister. I had the crazy idea that being married to Graham would make everyone say, ‘Look at Camille. She’s really made something of herself.’”
He gave her a reproachful look. “You hardly needed him to be something.”
A wry smile slanted her lips. “Dear God, do you know how glad I am that he fell in love with Crystal Thompson and asked for his ring back? I want to laugh until my sides hurt—that’s how glad I am.”
He smiled back at her and then, as his hand began to roam over the soft curve of her naked hip, he began to chuckle. “You know, I kinda want to laugh about it, too. Now. Now that I have you here with me. Like this.”
She laughed with him and then lowered her lips to his ear. “Have you forgotten that we haven’t had dessert yet? Want to go down to the kitchen and have some?”
“Mmm. I had forgotten. What did you say you made?”
“Does it matter?”
“Doesn’t matter at all,” he murmured. “Because my dessert is right here in my arms.”
She gently sank her teeth into his earlobe. “That line is so corny it’s sweet.”
The Rancher's Best Gift Page 8
