Her mouth, the hunger of it, clawed at his control. Then she said his name-it was a sigh, a prayer- and broke the last bonds.
He pulled her down into the hay, desperate for her. The silk of her dress rustled against his hands as he dragged it from her shoulders. A wildness was on him, peeling away right and wrong as he tore the silk away to find her.
Terror rose up to grab her by the throat. But it wasn’t terror of him. It was terror of the need that had taken possession of her. It ruled her, drove her beyond what could and could not be. As ruthless as he, she ripped at his shirt.
He was yanking at her laces, cursing them, cursing himself. Impatient with encumbrances, he shrugged out of his shirt, then sucked in his breath when her fingers dug into his flesh to pull him closer.
Hot, quick kisses raced over her face. She couldn’t catch her breath, not even when he tore her laces loose. They rolled over on the hay as they fought to free themselves, and each other, of the civilized barrier of clothing. She arched when he filled his hands with her breasts, too steeped in pleasure to be ashamed of her nakedness. Her pulse hammered at dozens of points, making her thoughts spin and whirl and center only on him.
She was willow-slim, soft as the silk he’d torn, delicate as glass. For all her fragility, he couldn’t fight her power over him. He could smell the hay, the horses, the night. He could see her eyes, her hair, her skin, as the moonlight pushed through the chinks in the shed to shimmer over them. Once more, just once more, he tried to bring himself to sanity. For her sake.
For his own.
Then she lifted her arms to him and took him back. He was lean and firm and strong. Sarah tossed her common sense aside and gave herself to the need, to the love. His eyes were dark, dangerously dark. His skin gleamed like copper in the shadowed light. She saw the scar that ran down his arm. As his mouth came bruisingly back to hers, she ran a gentle finger over it. There was no turning back for either of them. The horses scraped the ground restlessly in their stalls. In the hills, a coyote sent up a wailing, lonesome song. They didn’t hear. She heard her name as he whispered it. But that was all.
The hay scratched her bare skin as he covered her body with his own. She only sighed. He felt the yielding, gloried in it. He tasted the heat and the honey as he drew her breast into his mouth. A breathless moan escaped her at this new intimacy. Then his tongue began to stroke, to tease.
The pleasure built, painful, beautiful, tugging at her center as his teeth tugged at her nipples. It was unbearable. It was glorious. She wanted to tell him, wanted to explain somehow, but she could only say his name over and over.
He felt her thigh tremble when he stroked a hand along it. Then he heard her gasp of surprise, her moan of desire, when he touched what no man had ever dared to touch.
His. He took her as gently as his grinding need would allow toward her first peak. She was his. She cried out, her body curving like a bow as she crested.
The breath burned in his lungs as he crushed his mouth to hers and took her flying again.
She held on, rocked, dazed and desperate. So this was love. This was what a man and woman brought to each other in the privacy of the night. It was more, so much more, than she had ever dreamed. Tears streamed from her eyes to mix with the sweat that slicked her body and his.
“Please,” she murmured against his mouth, unsure of what she was asking. “Please.”
He didn’t want to hurt her. With that part of his mind that still functioned he prayed he could take her painlessly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he entered her slowly, trying to soothe her with his mouth and his hands.
Lights exploded behind her eyes, brilliant white lights that flashed into every color she’d ever seen or imagined. The heat built and built until she was gasping from it, unaware that her nails had scraped down his back and dug in.
Then she was running, racing, speeding, toward something unknown, something urgently desired. Like life. Like breath. Like love. Instinct had her hips moving. Joy had her arms embracing.
She lost her innocence in a wild burst of pleasure that echoed endlessly.
The moonlight slanted across her face as she slept. He watched her. Though his body craved sleep, his mind couldn’t rest. She looked almost too beautiful to be real, curled into the hay, her hair spread out, her skin glowing, covered by nothing more than the thin velvet ribbon around her neck.
He’d recognized the passion in her from the beginning. He had suppressed his own for too long not to recognize it when it was suppressed in another. She’d come to him openly, honestly, innocently. And of all the sins he’d ever committed, the greatest had been taking that innocence from her.
He’d had no right. He pressed his fingers against his eyes. He’d had no choice. The kind of need he’d felt for her-still felt, he realized-left no choice. He was in love with her. He nearly laughed out loud. That kind of thinking was dangerous. Dangerous to Sarah. The things he loved always seemed to end up dead, destroyed. His gaze shifted. Her dress was bundled in a heap near her feet. On the pale silk lay his gunbelt.
That said it all, Jake decided. He and Sarah didn’t belong together any more than his Colts and her silk dress did. He didn’t belong with anyone.
He shifted, started to rise, but Sarah stirred and reached for his hand. “Jake.”
“Yeah.” Just the way she said his name made desire quicken in him.
Slowly, a smile curving her lips, she opened her eyes. She hadn’t been dreaming, she thought. He was here, with her. She could smell the hay, feel it. She could see the glint of his eyes in the shadowed light. Her smile faded.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Turning away, he reached for his pants.
“Why are you angry?”
“I’m not angry.” He yanked his pants over his hips as he rose. “Why the hell should I be angry?”
“I don’t know.” She was determined to be calm.
Nothing as beautiful as what had happened between them was going to be spoiled by harsh words. She found her chemise, noted that one shoulder strap was torn and slipped it on. “Are you going somewhere?” He picked up his gunbelt because it troubled him to see it with her things. “I don’t think I’d care to walk back to town, and Lucius has my horse.”
“I see. Is that the only reason you’re staying?” He turned, ready to swear at her. She was standing very straight, her hair drifting like clouds around her face and shoulders. Her chemise skimmed her thighs and dipped erotically low at one breast. Because his mouth had gone dry, he could only shake his head.
She smiled then, and held out a hand. “Come to the house with me. Stay with me.”
It seemed he still had no choice. He closed his hand over hers.
Sarah awoke with Lafitte licking her face. “Go away,” she muttered, and turned over.
“You asked me to stay.” Jake hooked an arm around her waist. He watched her eyes fly open, saw the shock, the remembering and the pleasure.
“I was talking to the dog.” She snuggled closer. Surely there was no more wonderful way to wake up than in the arms of the man you loved. “He figured out how to climb up, but he hasn’t figured out how to get down.”
Jake leaned over to pat Lafitte’s head. “Jump,” he said, then rolled Sarah on top of him.
“Is it morning?”
“Nope.” He slid a hand up to cup her breast as he kissed her.
“But the sun’s up-Oh…” It dimmed as his hands moved over her.
Day. Night. Summer. Winter. What did time matter? He was here, with her, taking her back to all those wonderful places he had shown her. She went willingly at dawn, as she had on the blanket of hay and then again and again on the narrow cot as the moon had set.