Samantha James (21 page)

He stared at her mouth.

She stared at his.

Time stretched endlessly, gauged only by the ragged rhythm of her heart. Abby knew what it was he wanted …. just as she knew, in some distant corner of her being, that this time there would be no turning back, for either of them …

But she’d been through too much tonight. She was tired of pretending she was strong, when she wasn’t strong at all; she was tired of pretending she wasn’t scared, when in reality she was terrified of all that had happened these past days … terrified of what
might
happen.

But Kane meant heat and warmth, his arms safety and security. Beyond that, she refused to analyze any further.

His mouth still hovered just above hers. Beautifully firm, beautifully sculpted. An odd dryness settled in her throat. All she had to do was lift her head …

Their lips clung.

His fingers tightened on her scalp. The pressure of his mouth was sweetly fierce. It struck her that this kiss was totally different from the others they’d shared. Always before there had been an undercurrent of anger, of sheer male domination. But now she sensed he was fighting some dark, desperate demon inside, that
he
was the one who was scared. The thought made her ache inside. She uttered a low moan. Bare, slender arms crept up to encircle his neck.

The blanket slid to the floor.

Kane was lost. The sweet clinging of her mouth and arms, the press of her body against his, soft and rounded and naked … He fought to rein in his runaway emotions, the rampant thunder of desire that raged within him.
He wanted her
. The desperation that drove him was purely selfish, purely greedy. It didn’t matter that she was married—God, it was the last thing on his mind right now! He’d wanted her the moment he’d laid eyes on her back in Laramie. It seemed a lifetime had passed since then, which only made this gut-twisting desire all the more intense.

His hands drifted, discovering the tender bounty of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the shape and suppleness of her hips. She didn’t stop him. God in heaven, she was so warm, so willing … She let him touch her as if he owned her—and suddenly that was exactly how he felt, his chest bursting, as if she belonged to him and no other. He refused to think of her husband, the man who would soon claim her again. He emptied his mind of all but the fevered clamoring inside him, the driving need to possess her at last. His tongue dove far and deep, a provocative prelude of the act soon to follow.

His head was spinning when he finally released her mouth. He withdrew only long enough to shed his pants. Dimly he registered that his hands were shaking. He half-turned, giving Abby a heart-catching veiw of bold, brazen masculinity, unconfined and unrestrained. The glow of the firelight caught the striking perfection of his form in sheer, golden silhouette.

Her gaze flew wide. She couldn’t help it. Her mind skipped back to the time she’d seen him in the lake … There was a difference, she realized numbly. Now he was thoroughly, wantonly aroused. Her breath slammed to a halt. He was so—so … Her mind now rushed forward … Dear Lord, how could he ever … how could
she …

The thought went no further. She felt herself lifted and borne backward. The soft mattress gave beneath her back. Abby was quiveringly aware of his unyielding breadth atop her. And then even that thought faded to nothingness as his mouth sought hers, his kiss deep and rousing.

His hand slid slowly down her throat. Her pulse began to race. The quick, staccato pounding of her heart was so hard and fast she was certain he could see if not feel it Her nipples grew tight and tingly, anticipating his touch long before it came.

Slowly he circled the boundary of each breast, first with his fingertips, then with his palm, coming close to the quivering peaks but never quite touching. The elusive torment was almost more than Abby could stand. She moaned when at last he grazed her throbbing nipples, first one and then the other, toying and circling and teasing. And then his mouth trapped one straining summit, tugging, suckling, lapping until she was awash in mindless sensation, turned completely inside out.

Her lips parted eagerly as he reclaimed the moist hollow of her mouth, rimming his tongue along the edges of her teeth until hers met his in timid exploration. He crushed her against him. Abby reveled in the contact. He smelled of earth and wind and rain and all at once it seemed she couldn’t touch him enough. She ran her hands over the binding tightness of his shoulders and arms in wordless praise. Growing bolder, she splayed her fingers wide in the hair that grew dark and dense on his chest and belly.

He groaned again, the sound low and vibrating, echoing in the back of her mouth. The heel of his hand slammed the hollow of her belly, intent on claiming still more tender prey. She stiffened when strong fingers threaded through the springy down that proclaimed her womanhood. Her heart plunged into a frenzy. Surely he wouldn’t touch her there …

He did. With a brash, intimate caress as daring and undaunted as the man himself.

Her body jerked.

“Kane—” Softly she cried his name. He silenced her with a devouring kiss, soothing, luring her ever deeper into this dizzying world of passion, one boldly invading finger venturing lower still, even inside her … She clutched his shoulders. Did people really do things like this? No. Surely not. But she was stunned when a showering current raced through her, straight to the place his hand now claimed with such blatant possessiveness. She began to tremble. Dear Lord. Was this right, or wrong …

It was heaven. Centered deep within that secret cleft was a tiny nubbin of flesh, so achingly sensitive his first sweeping pass wrung a gasp of wholly unexpected pleasure from her.

And it was there his fingers now worked, plying with delicate precision, grazing her teasingly, then seeking and delving until at last her hips initiated a tentative, sinuous rhythm of their own. She sensed that pleased him. His groan vibrated against her mouth.

A peculiar heaviness gathered between her thighs; a strange questing gnawed low in her belly. Every nerve within her was screaming, straining for something more, something just beyond her reach. She whimpered helplessly.

The low, pleading sound nearly pushed Kane over the edge. He dragged his mouth from hers, staring down at her exquisite features. Her eyes were closed, her lashes dark and still spiky with tears, her lips moist and parted. Her hands had fallen away to rest on either side of her face. Suppressing a groan, he intensified his efforts, the rhythm of his thumb now wildly erotic. His reward came seconds later; her taut flesh convulsed around his fingers.

A rush of some nameless emotion swept through him. He muttered her name, a touch of ragged harshness to his voice. Kane knew he could hold off no longer. The evidence of her readiness, damp and sleek and lush, still lingered on his fingertips. And he was so achingly full he thought he might burst.

His chest heaving, he stretched out atop her. The swollen tip of his organ, smooth and round and throbbing, grazed damp, dark curls. His entire body jerked in reaction. The very thought. of thrusting deep and hard inside her clinging wet heat obliterated his last vestige of control.

He buried his head in the musky hollow of her shoulder. With his knees he spread her wide. Squeezing his eyes shut, he opened his mind and senses to the mindless ecstasy he knew awaited him …

One powerful thrust took him clear to the heat and heart of her.

His head jerked up; Abby’s eyes snapped open. She couldn’t withhold the strangled cry that ripped from her throat and shattered the night. They froze as if they were one—as indeed, they were, both overwhelmingly conscious of his turgid length buried clear to the hilt inside her. Abby lay trembling, her nails digging like talons into the flesh of his shoulders. She prayed desperately that the tearing pain would soon subside.

Above her, Kane lay utterly still, his heartbeat a drumming echo of her own. He was shocked by her body’s fragile resistance … and what it meant. No, he thought, wholly stunned. How could this be? How could she possibly be a virgin when she was married …
married
!

He was afraid to move, just as afraid not to. His mind told him to back away now, to retreat before it was too late—Christ, it was already too late! But while his mind urged one course, his body retained a primitive will of its own.

The cords in his neck stood taut. He braced himself above her, only half-aware as he relieved her of the burden of his weight. But his blood was pounding thickly, surging heavily, there where he lay planted so solidly within her.

God, it felt so good.
She
felt so good. Especially there where her belly pressed his—soft against hard. Passion soared overwhelmingly. He tried to withdraw, only to submit helplessly to the overwhelming demand of his body. He sank into her satin depths once more. Again. And again. And then he was plunging. Driving. Praying the end would come quickly, because he couldn’t stop … Hating himself because he knew he should have been slow and careful and easy, but he couldn’t. Dear Lord, he couldn’t, A groan rumbled in his chest, the sound low and anguished. He could only give in to the burning frenzy of hunger and need …

He gritted his teeth. Release claimed him, rolling over and through him, wave after scalding wave. The force of it astounded him. He shuddered, collapsing against her.

Only a few seconds passed before he rolled off her.

Abby felt him leave the bed. His recovery was far swifter than her own. Her world was still spinning. Turning her head, she glanced toward the fire just as he stepped into his pants. She sat up slowly, crossing her arms over her breasts, feeling uncertain and naked and exposed as she hadn’t earlier. From somewhere she summoned the courage to meet his eyes.

It was a mistake. One glimpse of his rigid features and she longed to sink into the earth, never to be seen again. Her eyes widened when he approached, but he only tossed her clothes into her lap. They were still damp, but Abby no longer cared. Her hands weren’t very steady, but through some miracle she managed to struggle into her clothing without assistance.

Not once did he release her from that accusatory glare.

“I think I deserve an explanation.” His tone was dangerously low, like the distant rumble of thunder.

Abby stared down at the folds of her riding skirt.

“You were a virgin,” he went on flatly.

Her lips compressed. Certainly she could hardly deny it.

The next thing she knew he was hauling her roughly to her feet. A muscle jerked in his jaw. Abby inhaled sharply at the anger leaping in his eyes.

“How?” he demanded, giving her a little shake. “How the hell can that be?” He grabbed her hand, stared at the place where a ring should have circled. “That night at the Silver Spur, you said you took off your ring because you were afraid I wouldn’t go upstairs with you if I knew you were married. But you were
never
married, were you?”

She was stunned. He wasn’t just angry, she realized. He was furious … She swallowed helplessly, shaking her head.

He released her, as if the touch of her was suddenly abhorrent. “Cripes,” he swore. “I’m beginning to wonder if I can believe anything about you,
Miss
Abigail … Is that even your real name? And what about this whole damn story you concocted? Oh, you’re a fine one to sit in judgment of me, considering you lied to me from the very beginning—”

“Oh, you stubborn fool!” Abby stomped her foot, as angry as he. “Everything I told you was true … My father … Why we have to find Dillon before Stringer Sam gets to him … the only thing I lied about was Dillon—”

Kane’s lip curled. “Oh, yes.
Dillon
. So he really exists, eh?”

“Of course he does!”

“And he’s Laramie’s marshal?”

“Yes!”

Kane was before her, his movement like quiet lightning. With his hand he prodded her chin up. “Then tell me this, Abby. Why are we chasing across the Territory after him if he’s not your husband? What the hell is he to you that you’re risking your damn fool neck in order to find him?”

Everything inside her seemed to go weak. She closed her eyes in order to shut out the ruthless demand in his features.

“He’s my brother,” she whispered.

H
er brother
.

The revelation bounced off the chambers of Kane’s mind, again and again. For the space of a heartbeat, it was as if the wind had been knocked from his lungs. A feeling akin to elation ricocheted through him, but in its wake trailed a ready anger.

His hands fell away from her shoulders. He didn’t dare touch her right now. His temper was anything but tame. “Your brother,” he repeated tensely. “Dammit, why couldn’t you tell me?”

“What did you expect me to do? I had to protect myself somehow. I was about to head out alone with a man, a man I didn’t know—and what little I did know was hardly reassuring. It was the only thing I could think to do!”

“It was your choice to go, Abby, not mine. I told you from the start you’d be better off staying home.”

Her eyes darkened. “I couldn’t do that, Kane. My God, he’s my brother! And after what happened to Pa, I couldn’t stay home and wait—I just couldn’t! Besides, how did I know you’d really try to find Dillon—that you wouldn’t just go your own way and to hell with my brother? You have to admit, your past is hardly lily-white!”

His lips twisted. That was just what he didn’t need to hear from her right now.

“And what about later, when I found out he was Laramie’s marshal? Why didn’t you tell me the truth then? Why keep up the pretense? Last night you said you trusted me,” he went on stonily. “Or was that just another lie?”

“No, no, of course not!” She clasped her hands together before her to still their trembling. “But you have to understand, Kane, you—you scared me!”

“You?” His laugh reflected his scorn. “Honey, nothing scares you. You were the one pulled a gun on me, remember? Seems to me a mighty gutsy move for a woman—and you claim you were
afraid
?”

“I wanted to tell you, I swear. But I was afraid you’d be angry—the way you are now. I was afraid you’d leave me and then I’d never find Dillon!”