wasn’t doing anything more than staring at her, and she could feel the need to confess welling.
“There isn’t much west except Indian country.”
She shrugged, letting her body relax against his. The hilt of his knife dug into her side. The pain blended with the agony in her soul. The muscled planes of his body were an unyielding wall of power, the ridge of his cock comfortingly familiar in the face of so much intimidating strength, and for once she was glad of the experience she’d acquired in the last year. There was nothing more pliable than a man with rutting on his mind. She tilted her head back, letting her hair slide over her shoulders, knowing how the thick, silky length intrigued men, ignoring the cold and the agony of her torn feet as she stepped into his embrace. What was one more scream among the soundless ones she’d already uttered? She kept everything but soft invitation out of her tone as she pointed out, “And California.”
His eyes narrowed, but his arm came around her, his hand spreading on her spine, taking her weight. “You’ve got gold fever?”
He made it sound like a bad case of ague. “I don’t know anyone who doesn’t want to be rich.”
“You’d do better to find a husband.”
She was never going to be dependent on a man’s whims again. She shoved the anger down, hoping that flicker of his eyelids didn’t mean he’d spotted it. Right now she wanted him concentrating on sex and what he’d have to agree to do to get it. She shrugged, rubbing her breasts up and down his chest with the gesture, smiling internally as his cock leapt against her in response and added a bit more husk to her voice. “It’s as easy to love a rich man as a poor one.”
His other hand joined the first on her back. The warmth of his body encouraged her closer more persuasively than the press of his fingertips. “Money won’t keep a woman safe.”
“Now there, I disagree.” She opened her hand, holding his gaze as she placed her palm to the right of his shirt placket, running her tongue over her lips as her fingers teased between the buttons, catching on the tight curls covering the swell of hard muscle. “With enough money, a woman can buy all the protection she requires.”
That twitch of his eyebrows could have been amusement or disbelief. “You’re planning on buying a man?”
“I prefer to think of it as—” she flipped the button open and slid her hand all the way inside, her palm shaping naturally to the curve of his pectoral as she tilted her head to the side, raising her eyebrows suggestively “—renting his skills.”
“Skills?”
The quickened beat of his heart belied the flat neutrality of his question. He wanted her. The truth was in the hard gleam of his eyes and the sharp jerk of his cock. She lowered her lashes the way she’d been taught, letting her lips relax into a seductive pout, working a few more buttons open. “A woman often has needs only a man can fulfill.”
His hand dipped to the hollow of her spine while the other curled under her chin, bringing her gaze dead center to his. “And you intend to buy them as you need them?”
She nodded as she tugged his shirt free of his denims, reaching around him to work it loose at the back, using her eyes and expression to enhance the suggestion in her words. “I find it a more productive method.”
“And we’re in negotiations now?” His grip shifted off her chin, sliding across her neck, the rough calluses of his fingertips sending shivers of sensation blending into the shivers of cold as the wind blew. He didn’t stop until his hand cupped her skull. She gave him responsibility for supporting her as she cuddled into his heat. He took it easily, confirming her belief that he was a man used to being in control. She’d have to play this very carefully.
“Oh, definitely.”
The lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes deepened with amusement. “Sweetheart, I can see from here you don’t have any money.”
That hint of a smile took his face from harsh to sexy, sliding beneath her armor to find the woman she’d once been. The woman who’d believed in happily ever after. The woman who would have been instantly drawn to that mix of power and humor. The woman who would have given him the flick of her fan that would have encouraged him to come call. The woman she’d thought long dead and buried. The woman who thought all there was to seducing a man was a bat of an eyelash and a coquettish smile. That woman had learned a lot.
“But I do believe I have something you need.” Desi dropped one hand from Caine’s chest to his groin, following the bulge down his thigh, blinking when her hand traveled a lot farther than she’d anticipated before finding the fat head through the tight cotton. She gave it a squeeze, fascinated as the muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed. She’d never deliberately set out to seduce a man before. The thrill of power took her by surprise. “And I’ll trade it for what I want.”
“Which is?”
Confidence bubbled at the tension in his drawl. “Out of Los Santos.”
“Take off my shirt.”
The order landed wrong. She was the one in charge. “In a minute.”
His hand came back around her head, more imperative than seductive. “That wasn’t a request.”
As if she didn’t recognize an order when she heard one. Desi rubbed her palm lightly over the spongy head of Caine’s shaft, looking for and finding that response again in the shift of his hips and the rapid beat of his pulse. She was used to men who grabbed, crushed and thrust at the first hint of desire. Caine’s restraint was…fascinating. “I’m aware of that, but I want to play a bit first.”
“You can play as soon as you get warm.”
That pulled her up short. He wanted her comfortable? He hadn’t finished the sentence before he was shrugging out of his shirt, taking his support away as he removed his arms from the sleeves. She just stared at him as she pointed out the truth. “But you’ll be cold.”
He lifted his eyebrow at her as if she’d said something totally ludicrous. His “I’ve been cold before” wrapped around her along with the shirt, enfolding her in the soft, warm wool and the knowledge that he was worried about her comfort. He was a very strange man.
She caught the edges before it could slip from her shoulders. She took a cautious breath. Threading through the faint smell of sweat and horse came that uniquely intriguing scent she associated only with him. Beneath her determination, the girl she’d used to be struggled for attention.
She squashed her flat. She couldn’t afford to kill off this opportunity with idealistic moments. Caine was a man, and she was a woman. What was going on here was a bargain as old as time. Just because she wasn’t hating it didn’t change anything.
Her knees bent with the security she found in this up-front, honest negotiation. “Then I guess it will be up to me to warm you up.”
On the way down, she couldn’t help but admire his form. She’d never seen a naked man on this side of forty, and Caine was a very well-made man. The bulge of his pectorals curved to the broad ridges of his abdominal muscles. His shirt hem brushed her calves, sending a shiver of unfamiliar sensation up her spine as she followed that thin valley between his stomach muscles with her lips counting the hills on either side as she went. One, two, three. The well of his navel tempted her tongue to linger, and flick. The inhalation
