Sagebrush Bride (27 page)

He kissed her deeply, feverishly, as though he were
losing himself with every second that passed, and Elizabeth found herself
clinging, arching toward him desperately, her body seeking out his
instinctively.

It felt so good. So right... the yearning so deep.
Warmth began a slow coil deep within her, creeping out into her limbs, making
them languid with desire. More than anything, she wanted to give herself to
Cutter. It really didn’t matter that nothing could come of it later. Nothing
mattered. Only this—the moment. And she intended to seize it. She’d had
so few in her life... so very few... and this was one she couldn’t deny
herself. Lord help her, but she couldn’t.

So intent was she on the interplay of their mouths
that she hadn’t even felt Cutter undo the braid from her hair. But suddenly she
was aware that he was threading his hand through the length of it, separating
the long, rain-thickened strands with great care as though it were rare silk,
freshly washed, instead of damp and unkempt. Like a man consumed, he brought a
lock to his nostrils, and they flared with the scent of it. The look of intense
pleasure on his face sent a warm quickening through her.

His lips were scalding against her ear. “Sooo
long,” he hissed. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He kissed her lobe,
nibbling it gently, all the while combing his fingers through the length of her
hair. Tilting her head just so, he brushed the side of her face, sighing into
her hair. The tenderness of his touch was almost unbearable.

“Lizbeth,” he whispered, “don’t you ever just
wanna let down your hair... be free?”

She did. Sometimes the feeling fairly overwhelmed
her. Sometimes... sometimes she craved nothing more than to kick off the heavy
high-button shoes she wore and run barefoot through the fields... to laugh...
How long had it been since she had laughed? Truly laughed? Without realizing
it, Elizabeth nodded, her body going limp in his arms. Whatever Cutter wished
of her, she wanted to give him in that moment.

Anything at all.

Reverently he spread her hair about her shoulders.
Without a will of her own, Elizabeth clung to him wantonly, her head tilted
seductively, her eyes closed in delight.

“If you’ll let me,” he began huskily, his voice
whispering promises, his lips worshipping her face, “I can show you how easy it
is to cut your wolf loose... how good it can be between us.” His knuckles swept
across her nipples, and they budded instantly as he stroked them deliberately.

“Feel it?” he whispered as she whimpered. All the
while, he stroked the tip of her breast with the back of his hand. Stopping
suddenly, he gently tweaked the nipple, rolling it between the roughened pads
of his fingers.

The sweetest ache pulled at Elizabeth’s core. Lost
in the sensual bliss, she nodded, her voice having fled entirely. Though her
eyes were opened, she could see nothing through the sweet haze of pleasure.

“Just say the word,” Cutter coaxed, a ruthless
gleam in his eye.

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. How to say it.
Some part of her still understood that to acquiesce was to go against
everything decent ever taught her. And though she wanted to, more than
anything, she couldn’t step over that line. She arched again, begging without
words, and Cutter understood.

With a grunt, he lowered his mouth to the breast
she offered so willingly, nibbling at it feverishly, nipping at it through her
cotton shirt. He tore himself away, only long enough to fumble with her blouse.

Drinking her fill of him, Elizabeth’s eyes never
left his as his free hand undid her buttons. One by one, quickly, deftly. Her
breath coming in small gasps, she let him support her with a firm hand behind
her back, while once again, the feel of cotton sliding out of her skirt sent
quivers down her spine. With his rugged fingers, he laid her blouse open,
lifting her camisole, exposing her breasts to the cool air. He dipped his head
to suckle one nipple eagerly, while he fondled the other. The coarse texture of
his fingers against her soft skin sent a quiver of pleasure rippling through
her.

Unable to contain it, Elizabeth moaned with the sheer
joy of him. Her hand slid instinctively around his neck. Nothing in all her
life could have prepared her for the sweeping sensations that shivered through
her body in that moment. As he suckled, a thread burned from her breast to her
most secret reaches, and she wanted insanely that he should touch her... there.

Again.

She cried out suddenly. Wicked as the notion was,
it scandalized her an instant, but just as swiftly, desire overwhelmed her,
removing all coherent thought from her mind. Her fingers curled into his hair.

“Cutter,” she sighed. “Oh, Cutter...”

His answering murmur burned her flesh. “Come with
me, Lizbeth. Don’t hold back,” he told her, his whisper savage. Never pausing
in his feasting, he peered up at her through his thick, dark lashes, watching
her expression intently, his dark eyes smoldering.

Well beyond words now, Elizabeth shook her head
no, that she wouldn’t, and lest Cutter misunderstand her, she clutched his head
possessively to her heart. Her hands threaded more deeply into his hair,
tugging gently in desperation.

That was all the encouragement Cutter needed.
Without a word, he swept her up, carrying her to his bedroll. He placed her
down upon it reverently, kneeling over her, his lips curving at the sight of
her. Her eyes remained closed, as though she couldn’t bear to watch what he was
about to do. He kissed her lips reassuringly, coming away with the beguiling
taste of her on his lips.

“Lizbeth,” he whispered huskily, his breath hot
against her mouth. “Open those beautiful eyes for me, gal.” She did, taking his
breath away with the emotion nestled in the depths of them. His breath
quickened, sounding as though he’d run a country mile. “Say no now... ”He
kissed her softly, hoping like hell she was too far gone to hear or comprehend
his advice. “If you’ve any doubts at all... it’ll be too late once I... ”

Groaning as she brushed his face with her velvety
soft fingers, he surged forward, thrusting one hand beneath her bottom and
lifting her up against his hardness. “Damn me, if it ain’t already too late,”
he muttered without regret. His other hand covered her breast as he buried his
face into her soft neck. “Much too late,” he whispered.

His fingers skipped down her body worshipfully,
then glided the length of her leg, her thigh, lifting her skirt, searing her
flesh where he touched her. Like a man possessed, he slid down to kiss the
inner length of her thighs, sending delightful shudders coursing through her.
While he kissed and caressed her there, his hands worked at the laces of her
skirt. Freeing it, he moved up again to nibble her lips as he tugged her skirt
down. Almost eagerly, Elizabeth helped him in the endeavor, lifting herself at
his will.

Then came her blouse, her camisole... her
drawers—all shed before she could even think to protest. All the while he
kissed her lips so masterfully, so wickedly, his tongue dipping in, then out,
the sensation so intoxicating that she never even realized her nakedness until
the cool night air kissed her burning skin.

Mesmerized, she watched as he straightened
momentarily to unbutton his own shirt. Peeling it off, he cast it aside.
Bare-chested now, he knelt over her, examining every inch of her with his eyes
as he’d craved to for so long, not touching, yet increasing her desire with his
lusty gaze.

Never had anyone looked at her just so, with so
much heat, as though she were beautiful. Never. And to Elizabeth’s shame, she
rejoiced in it.

By now it had grown dark, the firelight casting a
rosy tint over Elizabeth’s flesh, her breasts, even the darker areolas.
Remembering the sweet taste of her, Cutter imagined his children suckling
there, and felt white-hot desire knot his gut. Impatient to be inside her
suddenly, he brought his hands to his buckle, unfastening it deftly. Removing
his gun belt, he placed it gently aside while Elizabeth watched, her eyes wide.

The harsh sound of his buttons popping sent a
momentary shiver of alarm rushing through her, but she willed it away. She
wanted this, she told herself. So much. And it felt so right. More right than
anything ever had before. Still, a lump of fear rose in her throat, nearly
strangling her.

As quickly as he could, Cutter removed his boots,
then his denims, and suddenly he was free, the night air gliding over his
sweat-dampened skin, heightening his pleasure. This, he thought triumphantly,
was the way man was meant to be. Free.

His hands touched her knees, urging her legs
apart. Elizabeth swallowed convulsively, resisting instinctively. “I—I
can’t!”

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered. “You want this as
much as I do.”

Elizabeth shook her head.

Cutter’s eyes devoured her. His hand slipped
between her legs, and he grinned suddenly. “The hell you don’t!” he hissed.

Elizabeth willed her fear away, remembering only
the pleasure she’d felt under his touch the first time.

He eased between her thighs, covering her
suddenly, his flesh burning her clear to her soul. And his hardness nudged
shamelessly at her private places. Taking her face into his big hands, Cutter kissed
her lips feverishly, tiny pecks, then with a tortured groan, filled her mouth
with the heat of his tongue.

His body nearly exploded on the spot when she
instinctively lifted her knees, tilting herself to give him perfect access.

“So sweet,” he groaned. “So good.”

In response to his words, Elizabeth careened her
hips even more. “That’s it,” he coaxed, trembling with restraint, his whisper
tormented. Sweat beaded on his brow. “Open for me, bright eyes.”

He was poised at the barrier, his arms straining
with the effort of constraint, not wanting to hurt her, torturing himself with
the wait. Had to check himself... had to make this good... for her.

Again she tilted, moaning with the ecstasy of his
promised intrusion. “Please, Cutter,” she breathed. “Please... ”

Still Cutter didn’t move, only shuddered violently
somewhere above her, within her.

Without warning, Elizabeth lifted her hips
forcefully, urging him inside, filling herself with his heat. The pain was
minimal—too much a part of the pleasure to even be called pain.

With an oblivious groan, Cutter began to rock into
her, out of her, filling her and then withdrawing again. Crying out, Elizabeth
willed him deeper still, and with her fingers, clawed at his back, silently
pleading for the release she knew he could give her. Instinctively her hands
slid down to his buttocks.

Following his lead, she moved her hips along with
his, whimpering with the exquisite rhythm he’d created, following him
desperately. Suddenly, without warning, her body convulsed, fragmenting
somewhere deep within. Just as it had the first time. Only the degree so much
more. So, so much more. She cried out, kissing his shoulder reflexively, again,
and again, grateful in a way she’d never been before.

Feeling her body tighten around him, and hearing
her soft cries of release, Cutter gave himself up. Drawing back with a
primitive cry, he drove into her with a ferocity that would have startled
Elizabeth had she been the least bit aware. With a last grunt, he collapsed
atop her with a deeper satisfaction than he’d ever experienced.

Kissing her temple long and hard, he rolled to the
side so as not to crush her beneath him, and then hauled her up against
himself, hugging her fiercely. He said nothing for the longest time, only
stroked her hip and thigh absently. It seemed obscene to tarnish what they’d
just shared with mere words. His body glistening with well-earned sweat, he
turned a deaf ear to all sound, focusing instead on the ruthless pounding in
his chest. It was only when Elizabeth seized his hand and raised it to her face
to hold against her cheek that he felt compelled to speak.

His blood pounded through his temples. He
swallowed the salty burn in his throat. “Did it branding cattle,” he said
gruffly, swallowing again. “I was fifteen... and too stupid to know better when
they told me I wasn’t a man unless I could fire the branding iron bare-handed.”

Listening quietly, Elizabeth crushed his hand to
her cheek.

For the briefest moment, Cutter could see again
the curl of the men’s lips as they jeered him on. In their eyes, he’d been no
more than a useless half-breed kid, fit only as a distraction for their
boredom. And hell, he’d been too green and too desperate to prove himself to
see the contempt in their eyes. He’d learned the game quickly enough, though.

Hugging Elizabeth jealously, he allowed himself to
feel again the scorch of the metal rod boring into his palm, searing his
fingers, smell the stink of his own burning flesh. And then, with a fierce
shuddering, he thrust the memory back again into the graveyard of his mind...
where it belonged.

“Anyhow, so now you know,” he said
matter-of-factly, without emotion, “and you owe me one.” He brushed her hair
gently away from her face, kissing her temple. “Tell me about ‘Greensleeves,’ “
he whispered, squeezing her gently for encouragement.

“Greensleeves?”

For a befuddled moment, Elizabeth couldn’t fathom
what he was talking about, and then it came to her, and she felt as though her
heart constricted. How had he known? It didn’t matter. She wasn’t ready to bare
herself to anyone. Too long she’d kept herself apart from everything but her
work, and despite the cherished moment they’d just shared, she couldn’t open
herself up for his scrutiny—didn’t know if she ever could. Her eyes misted.
Her throat burned. “I-It was my mother’s favorite song,” she said with
difficulty, stiffening a little in his arms. “She used to sing it to me as a
child. That’s all.”