Always and Forever (27 page)

“Hear! Hear!” someone called out.

Grace, glad for the support of Loreli and the others, said, “So, if you and your group wish to travel to Kansas by other means, we can unload your belongings, leave you some water and food—”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Sarah challenged.

“Believe me, I would,” Grace promised. She’d had it up to her eyebrows with them. They’d done nothing but complain and snipe and aggravate people the entire trip. They also were still refusing to speak to Belle, and for that alone Grace wouldn’t think twice about leaving them behind.

Grace stood. “Let me know what you decide in the morning.”

She then looked to Loreli. “Madam Constable, are we done here?”

“Looks that way to me. Have a good evening, everyone.”

The women, tired after yet another long day, trudged back to their tents.

Muttering and cursing under her breath, Grace wanted to kick something when she returned to her tent. She planned to spend the rest of the evening alone, lest she run into the Mitchell sisters and slap them silly. Just as
she came around the front of her wagon, her angry steps slowed. Jackson was up on the seat. When he gave her that bone-melting smile, her anger melted away.

“Evenin’,” he greeted.

She wondered if a more gorgeous man had ever been created. “Evening, yourself.”

He’d been gone all day, scouting the road ahead. He and Dixon had been alternating the task so that Dixon and Katherine could have a bit more time together.

“You looked like you wanted to run somebody through when you came around the corner just now. It isn’t me, is it?”

She couldn’t hide her smile. “No, it isn’t you.”

He made a show of wiping sweat from his brow, and Grace laughed, then replied, “It’s those blasted Mitchell sisters. Do you think we’ve enough oil on hand to boil them in?”

He chuckled. “What’ve they done now?”

She told him.

When she finished, he drawled, “Is there any chance we’ll really get a chance to leave them behind?”

Grace sniffed. “We’ve a better chance of teaching the teams to fly. Neither of them has the testicular fortitude to do anything but whine.”

He laughed. “Grace, I’m surprised at you. Testicular fortitude?”

“Sorry, something I picked up from my father.”

“I like it.”

“So do I.”

Enjoying the sight and sound of her, Jackson told her, “Missed you today, hellion.”

“Missed you, too,” she replied truthfully.

Silence crept in as their need for each other rose and curled about them like smoke.

He asked, “Think I can come by later and show you how much?”

“Only if I can do the same.”

“You’re an outrageous woman, do you know that?”

Grace could already feel her body blooming with anticipation. “You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

He winked, hopped down, and disappeared around the side of the wagon.

True to his word, Jackson entered her wagon a few hour later. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her leisurely, gingerly, making himself go slowly so that he could savor her. He reacquainted himself with the sweetness he’d been craving since the last time they’d been together this way, and then nibbled her sultry bottom lip. As he used the tip of his tongue to taste the passion parted corners of her mouth, desire flared between them like a match against the tinder. He gathered her closer and deepened the kiss.

The memories of his last visit had had to sustain Grace until now, but they soon faded as reality took hold. The first tempting notes of passion’s prelude had begun, and her senses unfurled to the song.

His lips left her mouth to graze across her jaw. Grace’s head fell back to accommodate the thrilling kisses playing against the tender skin beneath, and up and down the column of her throat. His hand moved up her spine, warming her skin through her clothing. She wanted to be free of her clothes; free to be caressed without inhibition by the only male hands she’d ever known. The lips she responded to so hungrily were as deeply familiar as the gentle teeth now nibbling the shell of her ear. Even though they’d been together like this only a few times before, the heat of his big palms sliding the back of her skirt so provocatively over her full hips made her feel as if she’d known his touch for a lifetime.

The buttons on her shirtwaist were now being undone and she didn’t care. The opened halves of the shirt revealed the fine, lace-edged chemise she wore beneath, and the golden tops of her breasts swelling above. He brushed his lips over the satiny curves and she moaned deep in her throat. Each touch of his lips left fire in their wake.

“Let’s take this off…” he murmured.

He removed her blouse and then her short chemise. Fueled by the heat he sensed in her eyes, he used a finger to trace slowly the softness of her throat, then her kiss-ripened mouth. As desire shimmered around them, he pressed his lips against her parted mouth and the scented hills of her breasts. He raised his head so he could run his palms over her already berried nipples, then hotly suckled each in turn. She arched in response to his magnificent loving and to the storm he set off inside her soul.

When he took her hand to lead her over to the pallet, Grace sought his lips as they moved. He halted in mid-stride to accommodate her, and for a while they did nothing more than savor their shared desire before resuming the short journey. After taking a seat on the crate beside the pallet, he undid the tie on the waistband of her poplin skirt. It pooled at her feet and her polished cotton slip soon followed. She was clad in nothing but her frilly drawers. He pulled back a moment to feast his eyes on her half-clad loveliness.

“You’re beautiful…”

He slid a finger over her nipple and heard her purr. Enflamed by the sight and sound, he leaned forward and suckled the nubbin gently. When the purr became a sensual growl, he treated the other, then slowly drew away. He couldn’t stop touching her though; not her mouth, not her breasts, not the soft skin of her waist, usually kept hidden by the corset. As his hand explored her, he
touched what felt to be a series of small scars on her side. Mapping them gingerly, he felt his curiosity rise, and he asked quietly, “How’d you hurt yourself?”

“My corsets…” she breathed.

Jackson hated the things for many reasons; the scarring of a woman’s skin was one. He made a mental note to let her know again how he felt about the damned contraptions later, but now he wanted to hear her purr. She was beautifully endowed for a woman of such small stature. He felt her trembling. “Are you cold?”

“No,” came her whispered reply. Grace was so filled with the haze of desire, the air in the shadowy wagon could’ve been as frigid as the winds of January and she wouldn’t’ve been able to tell. Passion kept her insulated from all else.

“Then let’s make sure you stay warm…”

Jackson slid an intimate finger between her thighs. The slit in her drawers allowed him to be as brazen and bold as he pleased, so he pleased her until she was lush and flowing. As he played, he watched her eyes close and her head drop back; she purred and then groaned. His manhood was so heavy and hard it felt like a length of steel. Were she a woman of more experience, he’d ease her down on him right now and make her ride him until they were both too sated to move, but she was Grace and it would be her first time. Mindful of that, he wanted to initiate her slowly, gently. He’d teach her to ride next time.

This evening’s tutoring centered on just what he was doing now: circling her, caressing her, preparing her. He could tell by her strangled breathing and the soft, rhythmic arching of her lovely little body that she was on the brink of the night’s first climax, so rather than make her wait, he wantonly increased her pleasure and she shattered, hoarsely whispering his name.

Still resonating with the shuddering aftereffects of his magic, Grace came back to herself slowly. Gazing into his eyes, she saw passion, heat. He grazed a possessive knuckle over her still pulsing shrine. The sensations filled her core once more. Wanting him to stop until she could locate her mind again, but hoping he wouldn’t, she moaned responsively.

“Such a sultry little pirate queen.”

His voice was thick, hot. The dallying continued. Grace shamelessly widened her stance.

She wondered how in the world she was going to keep from wanting him after he left. “You’re in my blood, Jackson…” she whispered.

He rewarded her with a soft kiss on the lips. “You’re in my blood too…”

And she was, every luscious inch of her. It bothered him in a way, because he didn’t know how to keep her with him, but he set the thoughts aside for now. He concentrated on sluggishly kissing her swollen lips, toying with her nipples, and generally keeping her warm. “Let’s lie down.”

Caught up in the rising heat, Grace didn’t want to move and lose his bliss-filled touches.

“Gluttony is a sin, Banker Atwood…”

She couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re entirely too good at this.”

“Aren’t you glad?”

She leaned down and treated him to a kiss that showed him just how glad she really was, then took his hand and led him down to the pallet.

Jackson knew he might be courting danger by removing his clothes, but he wanted to feel her nude beauty against his skin.

Grace had never seen a naked man in the flesh before, but even in the moon-dappled shadows she could see
that he was beautifully made. He appeared to have been chiseled from a dark exotic marble. She boldly reached out and ran a finger over the well-defined muscles below his ribs and in his chest. Her eyes brushed the part of him that made him male, but because she didn’t want to be caught staring, she raised her eyes quickly to his face.

“That was a quick look,” he told her softly.

The words and smile threw her off stride. “I didn’t want to—ogle.”

“Ogle all you like, because I’m sure ogling you.”

She dropped her head to hide her smile. “This is all so new.”

“I know, but it’s fun. Isn’t it?”

She had to admit it was, so she nodded.

“Then take a good long look this time. It won’t bite.”

Grace felt the heat of embarrassment burn her cheeks. Still refusing to look, she said, “Maybe I’m not as brazen a pirate queen as I thought.”

“You’re brazen enough. Come here…”

He gently pulled her closer so that her back was against his chest and he cradled her in his arms. “If you want me to get dressed again, I can.”

“No, I like being with you this way. Does that make me brazen?”

“Yep.”

Feigning outrage, she switched around and found him smiling. “You’re supposed to say no.”

“Why?” he asked, running a bent knuckle over the nipple closest to him. “You are brazen, but like you said, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

He slid a finger over her lips and then dragged it slowly down her body to her nipple. “This is why…” And he circled it, and stroked it, and when he took it into his warm mouth, she arched sinuously.

“And this is why…”

He gave the other nipple the same intimate care, and she moaned.

“Oh, and add this, too…”

His fingers found the swollen bud between her thighs and plied it so languidly and expertly the groans spilled out of her throat like a song.

He eased a finger into her and her passionate response broke the quiet space with a strangled sound. He bit each nipple gently; then, after easing in another bold finger, kissed her mouth.

Grace had never felt such heat; never craved anything as much as she craved this. Sh didn’t want him to stop. “Please…” she whispered. She’d no idea what her plea might be for, but Jackson did.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll please you.”

Now, Jackson had no intention of taking her fully, or at least, that’s what he told himself, but she was so passionate, and when she whispered, “Make me yours…” the soft entreaty coupled with his own raging need made him want to grant her wish more than breathe.

He entered her slowly, making himself remember that her virgin state would not allow him to enjoy her with as much zeal as his desire demanded—at least, not this first time.

Keeping her lack of experience in mind, Jackson made his way inch by sensual inch. He was a big man and she was a small woman. The last thing he wanted was to cause her more pain than necessary. “Am I hurting you?”

Grace didn’t know. It was all so foreign, yet so delectable. She could feel her flesh opening to receive him. “I don’t think so, at least not yet.”

“Good.”

Fitting his hands to her hips, he held back on the urge to plunge his way to paradise and forced himself to
maintain his slow pace. She was so warm and so tight, it took all he had. “Grace, if it’s going to hurt, now will be the time, so hold on.”

He thrust himself past her maidenhood and felt her tighten in reaction. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing her eyes, her nose, her brows. “It won’t ever hurt again, I promise.”

But it hurt now, and Grace wasn’t sure she wanted to continue. The parts of herself sheltering him were filled with a searing pain.

“Let me make it better…”

“How?” she whispered, dearly hoping he could.

So he showed her.

Employing a slow, rhythmic stroking, he tempted her to rejoin him in life’s most ancient dance. At first she couldn’t respond; each and every movement made the pain resonate, but after a while her body began to warm and rise to that seductive rhythm and she was on the path to pleasure once again. “Oh, Jackson,” she purred in response. “This is better, much, much better.”

He grinned and lengthened his strokes. “Is it…”

“Oh, yes…”

Her confession pleased him; the sight of her rising to match his strokes pleased him even more. Grace Atwood was a sensual, hot-blooded pirate queen beneath her strict banker’s veneer, and as he’d said, he wouldn’t want her any other way.

While she met his thrusts, he brushed hot kisses over the hills and valleys of her soft, scented skin. He leaned back. Fired by the sight of her rising and falling beneath him amidst the shadows, he toyed wantonly with the slick, passion-swollen flesh hidden within her hair, and when she moaned, the sounds and sight fueled him to increase the pace and power of his strokes.