Blackwolf's Redemption (7 page)

“Sienna,” he said sharply. She sighed, shifted in her sleep. Grinding his teeth, he put the back of his hand to her cheek and swore under his breath. Her skin was almost painfully cool.

“Idiot,” he muttered, but the word lacked conviction. She wasn’t stupid. She was proud. Independent. Determined to do things on her own terms. God knew, he could relate to that.

Well, he’d run out of choices. He had to do what was logical. What necessity demanded. Take her out of this refrigerator and keep her warm.

Scooping her into his arms, duvet and all, was easy. She was light, boneless, and though she made a little sound of protest, she didn’t awaken as he carried her from the room. Her head fell against his shoulder. Her hair tickled his nose, and he gave in to the urge to inhale its fragrance as he made his way to the living room.

He put her on the sofa, grabbed a couple of the blankets he’d left her earlier and arranged three of them on the floor before the hearth, spread the remaining two over the improvised mattress and folded them back. Then he gathered Sienna in his arms and lay down with her against him, both of them wrapped in the duvet and now covered, too, by the soft wool blankets.

His actions were brisk. Purposeful. As if making a bed by the fire, settling into it with a woman in his arms, was everyday stuff.

He’d forgotten pillows. It didn’t matter. He could do without one and Sienna… Sienna sighed and put her head on his shoulder.

He went very still.

Another sigh. She flung her arm over his chest, her leg over his. He could feel the race of his heart.

“Sienna,” he said, and cleared his throat, “Sienna…”

She moved closer. Her hair whispered like silk against his jaw. Sweet Lord, she was killing him!

Okay. Enough. He could do this. Roll her off him. Put some space between them. Not too much; she needed his body heat but—

“Jesse?”

Her voice was as soft as a summer breeze. Her eyes opened and met his. His heart thundered when she smiled.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat again. “The bedroom’s too cold. I couldn’t leave you there. You’re safe here. I promise I won’t—”

“Jesse. You came for me.”

He told himself she was half asleep. That she was dreaming. He kept telling it to himself even as she wound her arms around his neck.

“Sienna…”

He bit back a groan. Her skin had gone from chilled to hot; her hands were like flame on his shoulders. He wanted to kiss her. Put his lips to hers, see if she really tasted as sweet as she had before.

She did.

Sweet. Honeyed. And tender. God, so tender, the fit of her mouth so perfect under his.

Her breath hitched. “Jesse,” she whispered. “Jesse…”

This was when a decent man would have stopped. Pulled back and said,
Sienna, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing.

But he wasn’t a decent man, he hadn’t been one in a very long time. And when she framed his face with her hands and lifted herself to him, when she bit lightly at his bottom lip, he gave up thinking, rolled her beneath him and took the kiss as deep and savage as the storm that raged outside.

S
IENNA
had slept, but badly.

Frightening dreams that left her on the knife-edge of panic kept waking her. Or maybe it was the cold, seeping into her bones. She’d been able to see her breath condensing in the increasingly cold room.

Foolish, not to have climbed into Jesse’s bed, she’d thought, but by the time she admitted it, the effort to do it seemed too great and she’d tumbled back into uneasy sleep.

Then, as if in a dream, she’d heard Jesse speak her name. Felt his arms closing around her, carrying her away from the cold room, from her nightmares, bringing her to warmth and safety simply because he held her.

And then he kissed her.

The kiss roused her from sleep, sent delicious shock waves coursing through her body, made her feel alive and secure….

Made her want more.

She came fully awake, aware that he was holding her as if she were made of glass, his powerful body taut with awareness, as if he knew he could crush her at any moment.

But restraint wasn’t what she wanted.

She wanted Jesse, his hunger, his desire. She wanted the oblivion she knew he could bring her.

“Jesse,” she said, and wound her arms around his neck, lifted herself to him. And when she sensed him still holding back, she brought her mouth to his and nipped at his lip.

His reaction was as swift as her racing heart.

He groaned like a man in pain, rolled her onto her back and took command.

He plunged his hands into her hair, framed her face, brought it to his. No gentle kiss as it had been before. This time, his lips were hungry and demanding. His breathing was ragged. Hers was, too. She heard herself making soft moans of impassioned longing.

He slid one arm beneath her and raised her against him.

Yes. Oh, yes. The heavy thrust of his erection against her belly was the best possible affirmation that all of this was really happening.

Her eyes flew open when he pulled back the blanket.

“Don’t stop,” she said, “please, Jesse, don’t—”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Very sure.”

His eyes darkened. “I want to see you.”

His voice was low and rough and so sexy she thought she might come just from hearing it. Her hands went to the hem of her sweatshirt and she began to lift it.

“No,” he said in that same gruff whisper. “I’ll do it.”

He pushed her hands aside and slowly, so slowly she thought she might die, he drew the shirt over her head and tossed it aside.

He smiled. “I almost forgot those two T-shirts,” he said softly.

And stripped them away, as well.

His smile faded. His gaze fell to her breasts. The look he gave her now was everything a woman could ever ask for from her lover. It was as hot, as filled with dangerous promise, as the fire.

She felt her nipples tighten, her breasts lift with desire. He
had yet to touch her. Still, she had never before been so aware of her body’s reactions to a man.

But then, there’d never been a man like Jesse.

The feeling was exciting. Even frightening. She wanted it never, ever to stop.

“Jesse?” she whispered.

He raised his head. Her breath caught. His beautiful face was all bones and angles and sharply etched planes. He looked at her for what seemed like forever, and then, eyes on hers, he touched his hand to her breast. One soft touch, the brush of his knuckles over her nipple.

A sob burst from her throat.

“It’s too much,” she said. “Jesse, Jesse…”

His thumb whispered over the taut bud. Once. Twice. Again. Sienna sobbed his name. Caught his hand but he ignored her, gently pushed her hand aside and went on stroking her, touching her before, slowly, he dipped his head and put his mouth to her other breast. Her other nipple. Sucked it into his hot, wet mouth.

“Jesse, please. I’m going to—I’m going to—”

The world stopped.

She gave a cry as wild as the storm and Jesse growled her name, lifted his head and took possession of her mouth, swallowing her cry of completion, making it a part of him as she came apart in his arms, her body weeping with desire.

She gasped his name. Pulled at his shirt. He said something low and urgent, pushed her hands away, tore at the shirt himself. She heard buttons pop, fabric tear, and then his skin was against hers, all that heat, that hard muscle, the faint abrasion of his hair-roughened chest. She moved her hands over him with feverish determination, loving the feel of him. The wide
shoulders, the sculpted biceps, the abs that might have been chiseled from stone.

She’d wanted to lose herself, but something more was happening here. Something she had not expected and—and—

“Lift up,” he whispered, and she did, and he pulled down her sweatpants and now…

Now she was completely naked in his arms.

“Sienna.”

He whispered her name against her mouth. Her throat. Her breasts. His hand cupped one breast, his fingers deliciously calloused against the sensitive nipple, then moved down her side, shaping her waist, her hip, her thigh. She cried out. It was too much. Too much. Too…

And then his hand was between her thighs and Sienna stopped thinking and fell headlong into sensation.

Sensation. He was drowning in it. Sienna’s taste. The silk of her skin. The hammer of her heart, the soft cries she made as he touched her. And the scent of her body, musky and aroused and so exciting he could feel himself starting to slide over the edge.

Jesse shut his eyes, breathed deep, fought for control. He couldn’t let this end so quickly. He knew there were times sex should be fast, times it could be hot and quick….

But not this time.

The woman in his arms was wild and beautiful, and he wanted the taking of her, the giving of himself, to go on forever.

But he wanted her. Her soft mouth. Her sweet nipples. That hidden bud in her body’s feminine delta that he could kiss and taste as it flowered, as he brought her the release she deserved.

She’d come once, but he wanted it to happen again and again, until she was exhausted, until she lay beneath him knowing him, only him, no other man but him.

He knew that kind of thinking was dangerous…and then it was too late to think. All he could do was kiss her. Let her taste fill him.

Honey. Cream. Her skin, her lips. He moved down her body, caressing her everywhere, groaning at the feel of her hands on him. He pressed a kiss to her belly, and when he tried to put his mouth even lower she dug her hands into his hair, dragged his face up to hers.

He let her do it. Took her mouth. Stroked his tongue against hers. Let her set the pace, but he needed more.

She whispered his name.

Her hips rose. Pressed against him. Moved against him.

He could feel the earth slipping away. On a low growl, he swept one hand beneath her, raised her to him despite her shocked gasp, used his fingers to seek the very heart of her.

A brush of his thumb and she moaned. Another stroke; she cried out. He brought his mouth to her, kissed her hungrily, a man thirsting for a life-sustaining drink after a long, endless drought, and she gave a long, broken cry and came against his mouth.

“Yes,” he said, “yes, baby. Like that. Like that, for me. Only for me.”

He kissed her breasts, her throat, lingered in the delicate hollow, felt the way her pulse raced against his lips. Kissed her collarbone, the elegant slope of her breast. Kissed her nipples, tongued them, sucked them deep into his mouth, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of not taking her.

He knew he would not last long, once he was inside her; he was a man who never lost control, but he was close to losing it now.

“Jesse,” she sobbed, “Jesse, Jesse…”

The sound of his name on her tongue filled him with elation.

“Tell me,” he said fiercely. “Tell me what you want.”

“You. You!” Her hands fumbled at his belt. “Jesse. Please. Please. I want—”

All at once, the harsh light of a thousand suns filled the room.

The power was back, and the lights had come on. Every damned one of them.

The huge glass-and-copper chandelier in the entrance to the living room. The spots over the sofa. The alabaster lamps on the glass tables flanking the sofa. Lights blazed everywhere, offering brutal illumination to the most intimate moment a man and woman can share.

Sienna cried out and threw her hand in front of her eyes. Jesse clasped that hand, folded her fingers into her palm.

“Easy,” he said.

She stared at him, eyes wide with shock. He’d seen the reaction before, once in a doe frozen by his sudden appearance deep in a wooded valley, and more times than he wanted to remember in the faces of men who’d thought they were invincible and found they were mortal, after all.

It was a look he’d never wanted to see again—especially on the face of a woman with whom he’d been making love.

“It’s the electricity, that’s all. It’s back on.”

Sienna tore her hand from his. “Get off me.”

Her voice was shaky. Okay. He could understand that it would be. The lights had spooked him, too.

“Sienna. Listen to me. It’s just the power—”

“I said, get off me.”

“Honey, calm down. The lights—”

“Get—off!”

Her voice was shrill. It went with the way she was looking at him, as if he were a monster instead of a man. That was another look he’d seen before. It had been in Linda’s eyes the night she’d walked out.

Wordlessly, he rolled away, got to his feet. She grabbed for the discarded sweats, yanked them on and plopped down on the edge of the hearth.

“Look,” he said carefully, “I know the timing was bad, but—”

“Yes. It certainly was. Another couple of minutes, you’d have had what you wanted all along.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Lock the door, you said.”

“Yes.” His tone was flat. “That’s what I told you to do.”

“What you didn’t bother telling me was that you had a key.”

“I didn’t have a key.”

“I locked the door. You opened it. What? Did you use magic?”

“Sienna—” Jesse ran his hands through his hair. “I was worried about you.”

“Worried I’d steal stuff from the dresser drawers? After all, why wouldn’t I? According to you, I’m here to steal artifacts from the Blackwolf Canyon ruins.”

His eyes narrowed. “Stop it.”

Sienna tossed her head. Despite his growing anger, he couldn’t help noticing the way her soft curls flew around her flushed face. “What a pair we are. Me, a thief. And you a man who—who takes advantage of defenseless women.”

“Watch yourself,” he said, the words low and dangerous.

“God, how I wish it were morning!”

“My sentiments, exactly.”

“There must be a way to get help.” She looked up at him. “Can’t you call someone?”

“I tried, remember? The phones are out.”

“What about using your cell?”

“My what?”

“Or do you need a SAT way out here?”

“A SAT? A cell? What in hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t know what a cell phone is?”

“I have no idea.”

He could almost see the fight go out of her. She said nothing for a long moment. Then she bent her head; her hair tumbled around her face. And he knew she was weeping.

Damn it. He wanted to be angry at her, but how could he be? All his anger drained away. He fought back the desire to take her in his arms and soothe her. No way was he going to touch her again. Instead, he squatted down next to her.

“Don’t cry,” he said gruffly. “This was my fault.”

She shook her head. “No. I shouldn’t have—I’m not the kind of woman who—” She looked up. Her eyes, glittering with tears, focused on his. “I’m sorry for the things I said.”

“Yeah. That makes two of us.”

“It’s just… I don’t understand any of this. We’re strangers.” She took a shaky breath. “And yet, I never wanted a man the way I—the way I wanted you….”

Her honesty caught him by surprise. In his experience, women weren’t usually given to accepting responsibility for their actions.

“I’m sorry if I led you on,” she whispered.

Another word, he was going to say to hell with everything and gather her in his arms, and where would that get him? She’d wanted to have sex and then she’d changed her mind. The last thing he needed was another round of yes-no frustration.

Sex was only sex and he could get it elsewhere. That moment he’d thought what was happening with her was something special….

Foolishness, nothing more.

She’d barged into his life, but soon things would be on
track again. The thing was to get through what remained of the night, drive her to Bozeman and move on with his plans.

“Jesse?”

“Yeah.” His tone was polite. He patted her hand, got to his feet. Whatever she was, she was more trouble than he needed, never mind the soft words of apology.

“You should have left me on that ledge.”

“Trying for sympathy?”

She flinched; he knew what he’d said was unkind, but look where being kind had gotten him.

“Trying for the truth,” she said as she stood up beside him. “If you’d left me there, life might have been simpler for the both of us.”

He gave a brittle laugh. “Too bad you didn’t tell me that this morning.”

“Would you have done it, if I had?”

“Damned right,” he growled, and then he sighed. “No. Hell, how could I?” His mouth twisted. “I couldn’t even leave you to freeze in that bedroom a little while ago.”

Her chin came up. “I would not have frozen.”

He wanted to smile; he liked hearing that edge in her voice again, but what he needed was to keep things at the status quo. A little distance. No more letting his body’s needs get in the way of things. “Well, I guess we’ll never know.”

She nodded, her chin still lifted in defiance…and then, without warning, the tears in her eyes spilled down her cheeks.

“I’ve been horrible,” she whispered.

“No. You haven’t. You’re just upset and—”

“Horrible,” she said again, and he forgot everything he’d just told himself about her barging into his life, about getting through the night, about sex just being sex. He forgot everything, gathered her into his arms…