Expedition of Love (25 page)

His hands shot out and grabbed her as his lips landed firmly against hers. She struggled for a fraction of a second, totally taken by surprise, then returned his feverish kiss with all the pent-up desire she'd been harboring for weeks.

Slowly, he lifted his head, breaking the exquisite connection. “You have bewitched me beyond reason, Miss Peterson. I should run fast and far from you."

She withheld from clutching him to her breast, afraid he would disappear and take the moment of bliss with him. “Why don't you want me? Do I break so many of your social rules, do I offend you so terribly, am I so—odd that you're ashamed of me?"

He wrapped her tightly in his arms, burying his face in her hair. “God, no,” he murmured hoarsely. “You're the most fascinating woman I've ever known and the most beautiful."

"Then you weren't appalled that I threw myself at you?"

"Not at all,” he chuckled. “Quite flattered, actually."

"Then I don't understand.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and noted his adorably crooked grin. She did prefer his kisses without the beard. They were heavenly, but she was getting off track. “I did my best to seduce you, and you pushed me away. Why?"

He brushed her cheek with his fingers, running his thumb across her bottom lip. Her blood surged to life and pulsed through her veins. Perhaps they could talk later, when her mind wasn't filled with images of his lips against her skin, his hands caressing her in places no man had ever touched.

"You are an innocent. I won't take what is meant for your husband,” he said.

"But I don't ever plan to marry."

"Miss Peterson—"

"Stephen, I want this.” She kissed him tenderly. “I want you."

"There are things you don't understand. There can be—we could—you might—"

She grinned at his loss for words. Had she muddled his brain so much with her kisses and blatant request, or was he just nervous?

Nibbling at his bottom lip, she said, “I might what?"

With a groan Stephen feasted on her lips, pressing her to his chest. He wanted her so much he hurt. The way she returned his kisses, teased him, tasted him, damn near drove him over the edge. “God, Kristina."

She sighed softly. “That's the first time you've ever said my name.” She pulled back and placed her fingers lightly against his lips. “Say it again."

"Kristina."

Smiling, she lifted her gaze to his. “Make love to me, Stephen."

He lowered her to the blanket savoring her sweetness as his tongue explored the inner recesses of her mouth. One hand sank into her silky tresses while the other explored the fullness of her breast through her shirt. He shouldn't be doing this, they shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't hold back any longer.

Lifting his lips from hers, he gazed down into her big brown eyes. “I've wanted you for so long. Are you sure about this?"

"I'm more than sure."

He caressed her face where the sunlight danced on her skin. She took his hand from her cheek and kissed his palm.

He laid his forehead against hers with a sigh. “But this still isn't—"

"Proper?"

"There are things that just aren't done."

Digging her fingers into his hair, she pulled him down and nipped at his chin, then slowly traced the edge of his jaw with the tip of her tongue. Back and forth, back and forth, driving him to the brink.

Teasing his lips with hers, she asked, “What does propriety have to do with this?"

He couldn't resist any longer. He wanted her far too much and for far too long. She tasted like sweet nectar and felt like fire in his hands.

Stroking her breast, he felt the hardened bud pressing against the cotton. He had to touch her, to feel the creamy skin that had tormented him for weeks. Pulling her shirt from her waistband, he slid his hand underneath and pulled at the tie that held her chemise together. The fabric parted, and he cupped her firm full breast with a moan.

Every thought fled from his mind, leaving only Kristina and the feel of her in his arms. Piece by piece their clothes fell away until nothing was left between them except the heat of their passion.

He plied kisses across the soft mounds, pausing frequently to suckle. “You taste so sweet."

He relished the feel of her fingers clenching in his hair, holding him to her breast. She held nothing back, arching against his body, begging for more, wanting it all.

His hand slid down across her smooth hip toward the center of her heat, brushing the curls of her mound. He paused at her gasp, his breath coming in short strained bursts, praying she wouldn't ask him to stop. They were too close to heaven.

To his relief, one of her dainty hands wrapped around his wrist and urged him on. A deep moan rumbled in his throat as his fingers found her hot and wet.

"God, Kristina, I can't wait much longer."

"Then don't."

Lifting up onto his forearms, he hovered over her. “I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, Stephen."

Beads of sweat broke out across his brow as he slid inside her, meeting no resistance. He wasn't surprised to find her without her maidenhead due to her years of horseback riding, and other various pursuits, but he knew he was still the first.

The tight folds of her damp heat surrounded and embraced him, and he hoped he could make the moment last. Forcing himself to move slowly, barely maintaining his control, he loved her with his body, with his heart, and with his soul.

Her soft sighs and heartening moans implored him to move faster, to take her farther. Never had he felt such wonder, such passion. His heart wanted to burst.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she met his every thrust, and when Kristina called his name on the crest of her quivering heat, they both lost themselves in a rapturous explosion beneath the wide Argentinean sky.

After catching his breath, Stephen lifted his head and watched the haze of passion fade from her eyes. He took in the shape of her nose, the curve of her cheek, every facet and mark, wanting to forget nothing, as if he ever could.

The corners of her mouth turned up in a satiated smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm memorizing the look on your face."

She laughed, sending a rivulet of warmth down his spine. “You're not wearing your spectacles. You can't see my face."

He rolled to his side, pulling her with him. “I don't need them this close."

She frowned as her fingers moved across his brow, down his cheek, and to his lips. “I wish I had mine."

"I could move further away so you could have a clearer picture?” he asked teasingly.

She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his. “Oh, no. You're not going anywhere."

He chuckled. “We can't stay like this forever."

"I don't see why not. It feels rather nice to me,” she said between gentle kisses.

"I'd say more than nice."

"Mmm, a lot more.” She wiggled against him, then suddenly jerked away. “The wagon!"

With a deep laugh, he pulled her to his chest. “I exaggerated the truth a bit. They won't be coming today."

A wide smile spread across her delicious lips. “So a rogue does lie beneath the stoic exterior."

His stomach dropped. “I was trying to convince you to return to camp. I had no idea—I mean, I didn't plan—"

"I know you didn't, Stephen.” Laughing softly, she kissed his cheek, his jaw, then his lips. “I believe I was the one who asked you to make love to me."

"Yes, I believe you were,” he murmured beneath her tender assault. He already wanted her again, as he would always want her, but his conscience reared its ugly head. “Kristina, we should stop."

"Oh, but I'm not the least bit tired.” She tortured his ear then moved down his neck.

"I mean, we should get dressed and head back to camp. The others will be wondering where we are.” He tried to ignore the feel of her lips against his skin, the way her fingers sifted through his chest hair.

"Mmm, whatever you say, Stephen.” She glided her tongue across his collarbone. Once, twice.

With a deep growl he rolled her to her back and devoured her mouth. The feel of her soft pliant body beneath his, the warmth of her breath against his skin, the feel of her hands stroking his heated flesh, she encapsulated everything a man could ever dream of. Everything he had ever dreamed of, and now she was his forever.

Chapter Fourteen

The sun slipped over the horizon right into Kristina's eyes. She slept a little, but not much. The feel of Stephen's warm, strong body pressed against her back was too heavenly to miss, and she didn't wish to let a single moment slip by. Now she knew what sex was all about, the mystery was solved, but she had the distinct impression her experience was different from what most people encountered.

"Good morning,” he said, and kissed her bare shoulder.

She turned her head and became lost in his gaze as the sun shimmered off the golden flecks in his eyes. “Good morning."

He lifted his hand from her hip and trailed a finger down her cheek to her lips. Her stomach fluttered as a flame sparked to life inside her. She wanted him to make love to her again, which wasn't good. She'd hoped she would have this experience and be content, but now she feared she would never be satisfied. She would never have enough of his gentle touch, the feel of his lips, his hands, his body melding with hers.

Stephen's gaze shifted to her arm and widened with horror. “My God, did I do that? Kristina, I'm sorry. I was so sure I'd been careful."

His concern warmed her like a glass of sherry on a cold winter's night.

Glancing at the large purple mark and distinct outline of fingers, she shook her head. “You didn't do this. Raul has a strong grip.” Intentionally not mentioning Mr. Walters’ fingers were there too. Not after Stephen's outburst the evening before.

His expression darkened before turning back into concern, his brows crinkling endearingly. “Then you're feeling all right?"

She opened her mouth to give him an adamant yes, then realized she didn't feel all right at all. Oh, she was sore in her private places, deliciously so after making love for half the night, but that wasn't what bothered her. She would never ever feel this way again. As much as she would like to, they couldn't continue their affair. After all, she wasn't a tart, and knowing Stephen, he wouldn't hear of it. It would go against his principles.

Propping up on his elbows, he hovered over her, a frown settling over his mouth. “Kristina?"

She grinned. Oh, how she loved the way he said her name. “I'm fine.” She cupped his shadowed jaw, relishing the stiff bristles scratching her skin. “I'm more than fine."

His lids slid closed with a heavy sigh as he turned his lips to her palm. The flame that burned steadily inside her grew. She wanted him one more time, before everything changed back to the way it was. One more memory to add to the few precious moments they had shared.

"Make love to me,” she said.

His gaze met hers, heat sparkling in the golden depths. Her hand slipped into his hair at the nape of his neck as he lowered his lips to hers. An explosion of need consumed her as their kiss deepened. Heaven, such wonderful heaven.

Their hands and mouths raced over one another in a frenzied dance as they came together for one last time before the rising sun.

Their bodies sated, he stroked her hair, as she lay curled against his side, her head on his chest.

"When we return to camp I'll talk to your father. I'm fairly sure he won't disapprove,” he said.

Kristina lifted her head, puzzled. “Disapprove of what?"

"Of our marriage. He's already given us his blessing, in a way."

Clutching part of the scratchy wool blanket to her breast, she shook her head as she sat up, diffusing the fog of lingering passion. “What are you talking about? We are not getting married."

Surely he knew where they stood. Their relationship was purely one of friendship, with an added momentary benefit.

His brow furrowed severely. “We most certainly are getting married.” As he sat up, the blanket fell to his waist revealing dark curls across a muscular chest.

Damn the man for being so handsome. She would have laughed at herself for such a complete reversal of opinion regarding his looks if their argument weren't so serious.

Twisting, she snatched up her clothes, and yanked on her pants. She shoved her head through her chemise then followed quickly with her shirt. She paid little attention to Stephen doing the same.

"We are not getting married,” she said. Cramming in her shirttails, she bolted to her feet then winced and hobbled to her horse.

He muttered vague comments about obstinate women as he stormed after her. “We most certainly are getting married, and there'll be no more arguments on the subject!"

"Oh, there'll be no arguments, because there'll be no wedding!” She slid the bit into the horse's mouth, trying to keep her raging temper from frightening the animal.

Why couldn't he see that it was her life? Why couldn't he understand that if she were to marry, her dreams and goals would be stripped away? And worst of all, she'd be forced to behave like so many of the other brainless females she knew.

Absolutely not. She had a mind, a rather keen one, and she refused to throw away her life, her self-respect so he could lord over her. She refused to become his or any other man's property.

His hands clamped down on her shoulders and spun her around. “After what took place last night and this morning we don't have a choice."

His shirt hung open, beckoning her to look, to touch, testing her resolve. It would be so easy to fall back into his arms and make love to him all over again. But her willpower prevailed, and she jerked free of his grasp.

"I most certainly do have a choice. No man is going to dictate to me what I can and cannot do. I told you last night I never intended to marry. Weren't you listening?” Keeping her gaze focused keenly on his face, she wished to heaven she'd never concocted her ridiculous scheme, but then she never would've known how wonderful his touch could be.

"That was before!"

With a huff, she spun back around and tossed the reins around the horse's neck. “Men are the most stubborn, hard-headed, exasperating creatures on the planet."