He tore his mouth from hers, needing to know if she'd experienced the strange coupling too, or if he was slowly going crazy. One look in her eyes, bright with awareness, confirmed that she'd been with him all the way, and that she was as aroused as he by the encounter. They both panted for air, and when he pressed his free hand over her left breast her heart beat wildly beneath his palm.
"You're mine," he said fiercely, shaken by the depth of emotion accompanying the statement. Where had the possessive words come from?
"Yes," she whispered in return, her voice husky and needy.
Letting go of the medallion, J.T. tugged on the knot of her shirt, desperate to explore every inch of her with his eyes and hands, desperate to make Caitlan his in every way. Fumbling with the front clasp of her bra, he dipped his head to string a line of wet, hot, openmouthed kisses down the side of her throat.
J.T. thought he heard Caitlan murmur, "please," but couldn't be sure for the blood rushing through his head and every other vital part of his body. He lifted his mouth from the warm, fragrant hallow of her neck and shoulder just as the clasp on her bra gave way. Her full, perfect breasts spilled into his waiting hands, her pale skin gleaming in the moonlight. Her nipples drew into tight buds, from his gaze or the cold air, he couldn't be sure. Grazing his thumbs over the stiff crests, he illicited a moan of pleasure from her that echoed his own enjoyment in just watching her uninhibited response. He glanced up into her face. Her gaze was heavy-lidded with passion, any uncertainty she might have harbored minutes ago replaced by encouragement.
Her approval was all the inducement he needed. Lowering his head, he dragged his tongue across her collarbone and leisurely downward, toward the bountiful offering he held in his hands. She started at the first sweep of his tongue around the bottom swell of her breast; she moaned and slid her fingers into his hair when he opened his mouth wide over a nipple and suckled deeply, strongly, his fingers kneading the soft flesh.
A shudder passed through her and she arched toward him. Holding his mouth to her breast, she showed him in that one daring move that she needed him, this wondrous contact, as much as he needed her.
Lifting his head, he guided her slender hands to the buttons on his shirt. He braced his palms on the wall on either side of her head, looking at her flushed face. "Open my shirt, Caitie," he told her. "I want to feel your breasts against me."
She attempted the task but couldn't coordinate her trembling fingers to slip the buttons through the holes. After a moment that seemed more like an eternity to J.T., he laughed abruptly and impatiently brushed her hands aside to do the deed himself. An ever-widening V quickly appeared with each button, all the way down to his belly.
The sudden cool touch of her hands on his heated flesh excited him beyond what he believed to be possible. Her palms smoothed over his chest in a timid exploration, the muscles in his belly rippling. Reining in his control and once again bracing his palms on the wall behind her, he curled his fingers into tight fists against the rough, cool wood. He granted her license to touch and explore, knowing it would cost him dearly but uncaring because her light caresses had him blazing like a match to dry kindling.
She looked up at him, her gaze shining with awe and sensual enjoyment. "You feel so good, like silk and steel…"She plucked a nipple and he drew in a quick breath, a shy, but wholly seductive smile curving her mouth. Her tongue bathed her bottom lip with moisture, and she slowly leaned forward, tentatively touching her tongue to the flat brown disc, tasting him.
Everything in J.T. coiled up tight, and he hissed at the exquisite sensations darting through him. Desire pooled heavily in his groin, pulsing, throbbing. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled her mouth back under his. "Enough," he said gruffly, pleasure and pain meshing. "I'm going to die if I don't feel you against me now." He captured her mouth at the same time that he crushed his chest against her breasts. Their mutual moans of satisfaction filled the dim barn.
Releasing her hair, he slowly slid his hands down the slope of her back and over the curve of her bottom. He lifted her tighter against him, reveling in the soft sounds she made, the way her hands went wild on him, on his chest, in his hair. He bunched her skirt in his fist and drew up the material, exposing her thighs to the cool night air. Softening their kisses, he whispered against her mouth, "Hold your skirt for me, sweetheart." Having Caitlan's hands immobile and off him gave J.T. time to shore up his control again. There was too much he wanted to do to her, with her, and she already had him on the edge.
Mindless with want, Caitlan ignored the little voice inside her head warning her of the consequences that could result from her actions. After the arousing, soul-blending incident with the medallion she was burning up inside, aching to be filled, aching to experience everything J.T. had to offer. Doing as he'd ordered, she curled her fingers around the chambray and petticoat, holding the ruffles up for him.
"Good girl," he murmured. Running his hands up her thigh, he slipped his long, callused fingers beneath the band of her panties to cup her bottom. She let out a soft sigh, and he smiled.
"You have the warmest, softest skin," he said, dragging his fingers around so his thumbs brushed the soft curls between her legs in a butterfly caress.
She drew in a deep quivering breath at the husky tone of his voice and his light, teasing touch. When she looked into his eyes she saw that his desire matched her own. No matter how wrong this was, she knew she wanted this intimacy, and more. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight she was his.
Slowly, he knelt before her. Caitlan sensed his determination to take things slow, for her sake and pleasure as well as his own. He hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic band of her panties and slowly pulled them down, and her passion grew with every inch he exposed. His gaze devoured her like hot, licking flames of fire.
She felt no shame, only a soul-shattering longing to give him whatever he wanted from her. Her emotions were so riveting, the yearning to be with him so devestatingly powerful, she experienced a moment of panic and tried to move away. "J.T.-"
"Shhh, he said, pressing his palms on her thighs, preventing her escape. "Please let me."
Caitlan heard the ragged need in his voice, the throaty plea that bordered on sheer urgency, because it mirrored her own swirling emotions. Unable to deny what her body and soul craved, she allowed him to draw her panties down, over her boots. He helped her step out of them; then he absently stuffed the scrap of silk in his back pocket.
He sat back on his heels, not touching her when she wished he would, his gaze charting a slow, heated path up the length of her, lingering in places that craved his caress. Warmth stung her cheeks, and she closed her eyes to hide her embarrassment, knowing she must look like a shameless hussy, half clothed, breasts pouting, skirt clutched in her fists to reveal the part of her that wanted his touch so badly. Everything was bared to him, and she idly wondered if he could see or sense the deep, abiding love blooming inside her heart for him.
Love. Oh, dear Lord, she couldn't be falling in love with him!
"Look at me, Caitie." The restraint in his voice belied his heavy, aroused breathing.
Her lashes fluttered open and she glanced down at him, blushing all over again when she saw the carnal heat in his gaze. She started to lower the skirt to hide from his hungry eyes.