The Outlaws: Rafe (40 page)

Rafe reached over to strike a match to the lamp.
 
Light illuminated her face, highlighting the misty brilliance of her eyes, shadowing the delicate fabric of her skin.
 
He raised his hand to cup her cheek.
 
She flinched away and Rafe fervently wished he could undo the damage he'd done with that blasted note.

He closed his eyes and breathed in his wife's sweet scent.
 
Soap and sunshine and her own special fragrance.
 
His groin ached, he grew instantly hard; all ragged and needy inside.
 
His hands reacted independently of his mind as he grasped her shoulders and pulled her against him.
 
He hadn't meant to touch her; he'd only intended to explain his actions that day in Dodge City.
 
He hoped she'd forgive him but feared it was asking too much from her.

Rafe felt her resistance, sensed her reluctance, her fear,

and knew he deserved her scorn.
 
God, he wanted to kiss her!

"You're not going to hoodwink me again, Rafe Gentry," Angela charged.
 
"How dare you think you can pop in and out of my life like jack-in-the-box!
 
Do you think I'm a toy, patiently waiting for you to come to me at your convenience?"

"Dammit, Angel, I don't think that at all!
 
Will you hear me out?"

"Why?
 
I won't believe you?" Angela hissed.
 
"I've been a fool where you're concerned, Rafe.
 
Just when I've convinced myself I'll never see you again, you turn up like a bad penny.
 
I don't want to hear your explanation.
 
Nothing you can tell me will change my mind about you."

"Have you and your stepfather reconciled?"

Angela's eyes narrowed.
 
"How do you know Desmond is here?
 
Have you been spying on me again?"

"It doesn't matter how I know."
 
Angel was in no mood to listen, anyway.

"Before you leave, there's something you should know," Angela said.
 
"I'm filing for divorce.
 
Mr. Goodman is drawing up the papers for my signature."

Rafe reared back and stared at her.
 
Her words were like a blow to the gut.
 
"Had I known you were filing for divorce I wouldn't have bothered gathering signatures of people who witnessed our marriage."

She looked confused.
 
"You did that?
 
Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Nothing is obvious where you're concerned, Rafe.
 
You're the most thoroughly confusing man I've ever met.
 
At least I know where I stand with Desmond and Anson."

"And where is that, Angel?" Rafe asked with taut disapproval.
 
"Are you planning to marry Chandler?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I wouldn't marry Anson if he were the last man on earth."

"Why is he still here?" Rafe challenged.

"Because I intend to prove he killed Brady Baxter!" Angela all but shouted.

Stunned, Rafe stared at her.
 
"I thought you didn't care what happened to me."

Her chin rose defiantly.
 
"I don't."

He gave her a lopsided grin.
 
"Then why are you so anxious to prove my innocence?"

"You should know the answer to that.
 
I can't stand to see an innocent man falsely accused of a crime.
 
It assaults my sense of justice.
 
I learned from Reverend Conrad that each person is responsible not only for himself but for his fellow man.
 
I know you're not a killer, Rafe."

"Your purity and goodness humbles me, Angel.
 
I don't deserve you."

"My thoughts exactly," Angela returned.
 
"My heart can stand only so much pain."

This time she stiffened only slightly when he pulled her into his arms.
 
She knew she'd regret it, but resisting this thoroughly exasperating, utterly irresistible man was impossible.
 
Common sense told her he'd break her heart again...and again, that she should turn away from him and not look back.
 
Common sense flew out the window when Rafe's mouth sought the shell of her ear, whispering her name on a ragged breath.
 
He kissed her eyes, her cheeks.
 
He slipped the nightgown from her shoulders and tasted her skin at her shoulder and at the hollow of her throat.

Her nightgown drifted down to her waist.
 
His tongue followed it down, leaving a vertical path of fire between her breasts.
 
Her breasts felt hot and tingly and she arched closer, pushing herself into the torrid heat of his caress.

She groaned a protest when he shifted away.
 
Abruptly she was making this too easy she for him and somehow found the strength to shove him away.
 
Taken by surprise, Rafe fell backward, off the bed and onto his rump.

"What in the hell was that for?" Rafe demanded as he picked himself up off the floor.

Angela's breathing calmed.
 
"For thinking I have no willpower where you're concerned."

He grinned.
 
His gunbelt hit the floor.
 
"Have you?
 
Any willpower, I mean."
 
He tore off his kerchief and ripped his shirt apart.
 
Buttons flew in every direction.

"I like to think so."

He stripped his belt off and unbuttoned his trousers.
 
Air spilled from Angela's lungs as the rest of his clothing melted away.
 
He was fully erect, his shaft thick and pulsating against the rigid muscles of his stomach.
 
Her hands slowly curved in the fabric of the sheets, willing herself to look away, but she was so weak, so utterly, impossibly enthralled with this man.

Struggling to quell her mounting passion, she scooted over to make room for him when he lowered himself to the bed.
 
His hands slowly curved around her waist, bringing her closer.
 
For a desperate moment they shared a single breath as his mouth sealed hers with a heated kiss.

The delicious pressure of his hands on her breasts made her blood thicken and heart pump faster.
 
Her lips parted; his tongue eased inside.
 
Too soon, he broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he searched her face.
 
"You want me as much as I want you, Angel, admit it."

"You know I'm weak where you're concerned.
 
I despise the fact you're using my weakness against me," Angela, sighing despairingly.

"The only thing I want to use against you is this," he said, bringing her hand to his groin and clamping her fingers around his erection.

Angela stared into his face and saw a flash of raw hunger in the depths of his silver eyes.
 
And something else.
 
An emotion that came from within the deepest part of his soul.
 
He was overpowering her with his desperate need, with his words, and with those incredible expressive eyes.

Holding her captive with his gaze, he placed a hand on her belly, pressing it as he stroked, wringing a gasp from her.
 
The raging tumult of blood in her veins, the mad rush of sensation, cleared her mind of everything but Rafe, the man she loved...no, hated.
 
She was so confused.

Thought skidded to a halt as his hand flattened between her thighs.
 
She closed her eyes and parted her legs for him, anticipation mounting.
 
Her body cried out for his and it irked her that he knew it.
 
His mouth took hers again, their bodies melded together, breast to breast, hip to hip.
 
She felt the flesh on his belly ripple, the muscles beneath growing rigid as his need escalated.

His fingers parted her, dipping inside, gently soothing the burning ache.
 
Her body screamed for completion, her hand working him in a sliding motion that drew a guttural moan from him.
 
She tried to draw him inside her.
 
He removed his hand and settled between her legs.

He kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her mouth, as he guided himself into the torrid heat of her body.
 
Her muscles clenched around him.
 
Her body was flayed by fire as the storm of his passion ravaged her.
 
Tossing her high.
 
Tumbling her down.
 
He drove harder, deeper into her core, pushing her toward the summit as cresting waves of sensation buffeting her.

She gripped the corded muscles of his upper arms, staring into his eyes as he held himself above her.
 
Despite her own tumultuous state of arousal, Rafe seemed in no hurry for his own climax as he forged relentlessly on.
 
The end came suddenly, explosively, as she yielded herself to the firestorm sweeping her to sweet oblivion.

Rafe watched her face closely, not slacking his pace as she found rapture.
 
Then he began to move again, seeking his own pleasure.
 
He gave her a startled look when her body stirred around him and she clutched his shoulders.

"Can you come again, sweetheart?"

Angela seemed beyond coherent speech as she raised up to meet his strokes; she seemed as genuinely surprised at her renewed passion as he was.
 
Rafe moved faster, the smell of sex and sweat a powerful aphrodisiac.
 
His stomach clenched, his muscles jumped.
 
If she didn't...soon...
 
Then he heard her cry out, felt the tiny contractions flutter around him, and with a ragged cry of pleasure he spilled himself inside her.
 
His last cogent thought was that he was exactly where he belonged.

"Are you happy now?" Angela asked after the firestorm abated.
 

For long minutes nothing stirred the air but their harsh breathing.
 
"I want us both to be happy," Rafe finally answered.

Angela turned away.
 
"I want that too but it's not going to happen."

"Leaving you in Dodge City wasn't my idea."

It took a moment to absorb his words.
 
When they finally registered, she gave a bitter laugh.
 
"I suppose you're going to tell me someone held a gun on you while you wrote that disgusting note."

He gave her a strange look.
 
"That's exactly what happened."

"Really, Rafe, I'm not stupid."

"Far from it, but I'm not lying.
 
Dexter got the drop on me in the bathhouse that day.
 
He was the last person I expected to see in Dodge City.
 
He forced me at gunpoint to write that note.
 
If I didn't do as he directed, he would have killed me and claimed the reward.
 
There were still those Colorado warrants for murder Sheriff Jenkins seemed to know nothing about.

"I'd just been cleared of bank robbery charges and you were waiting for me back at the hotel, leaving you was the furthest thing from my mind.
 
Dexter changed it quickly enough.
 
My situation seemed hopeless.
 
I wanted only the best for you, even if it meant leaving you.
 
I decided you'd be better off without an outlaw dragging you from town to town, one step ahead of the law."

"What changed your mind, not that I believe you, mind you."

"Learning that I was no longer wanted for those murders in Ordway gave me renewed hope.
 
After those charges were dropped I felt confident I could find Baxter's killer and emerge a free man, one without a tainted name.

"But those weren't the only reasons.
 
I couldn't stay away from you, Angel.
 
We're soul mates, whether you choose to believe it or not.
 
I could no more leave you than I could cut off my right arm."

Her gaze wavered, then fell away.
 
"I want to believe you, Rafe, truly I do."

"But..."

"I'm afraid of being hurt again.
 
I'd be forever holding my breath, wondering when you're going to disappear again."

"Never," Rafe vowed.
 
"I'm never going to leave you again."
 
Rafe hadn't planned on falling in love when Angel claimed him as her fiancé, but she had sneaked up like a thief in the night and stolen his heart.
 
Unfortunately he wasn't free to declare his love, so he held his tongue.

"Why, Rafe?
 
Why should I believe you?"

Rafe frowned and looked away.
 
"I know I've given you ample reason in the past to distrust me but I don't have anything to offer a woman who has everything."

"All I ever wanted was you.
 
I would have given up everything to hear you say..."
 
She paused, gulping back her words.