style="font-size:15px;"> And what she felt was a pain deeper and wider than the Grand Canyon. When she started to cry, he just gathered her closer.
As if that would help. As if anything could help.
He wiped her tears gently away when she finally quieted. For a long time he just held her, but finally he spoke. “We have to talk about how to deal with this.”
“What can we possibly do?
“Well, I’ll have to think about that some, but we’ve still got to talk. We have to sort through your options and my options, and see what we can come up with. There’s a lot I can do, but I don’t usually plan entire operations by myself.”
“Teamwork?”
“Yes. And you’re my team. And the sheriff, too. We’ve got to talk this all over with him.”
“I don’t want to! What if he calls the Marshals? I don’t want to do that again.”
“Easy now. I’m sure we can convince Gage not to do that. But as good as I may be, I’m still just one man, Cory. We’re going to need some help.”
She pressed her face into his shoulder, hating all of this, from the fear that tingled along her spine to the sense of being trapped in a nightmare. Why couldn’t she have even an hour of forgetfulness? Was that so much to ask?
Then he shifted her, so that she lay even closer to him. His hand began to run over her back, in steady, soothing circles. At least she thought he meant them to be soothing, but after a few minutes they had a totally different effect. Their passionate kiss yesterday had made her aware of her own needs again, and it didn’t take long for her body to remind her that there was still something good in life, something that could be hers for the asking. Something that would make her forget.
But forgetfulness quickly took a backseat to a slowly building heat. Even if her mind and heart quailed, her body wanted to spring back to life, to grasp it with both hands and revel in it.
The softest of sighs escaped her, and she tried to wiggle closer, to say with her body what she could not with words.
His hand paused. As soon as she realized he must have received her silent message, she caught and held her breath, torn between an impulse to pull away and hide, and an almost excruciating hope that he wouldn’t turn her away.
She should run. Now. Because she couldn’t handle the rejection. Not now. Not after all she had exposed about herself.
Turn away now, don’t give him the chance to say no.
But her body refused to obey her brain. It wanted something primal, something more elemental, an affirmation of life that bypassed all those messed-up circuits in her brain.
His hand left her back. She tensed in expectation of the rejection. But instead he caught her chin and turned her face up so they were looking at one another, only inches apart. His dark eyes searched hers, then moved over her face, as if seeking an answer to some question.
Then he swooped in like a bird of prey and took her mouth in a kiss that stunned her with its intensity, as if he wanted to draw her very soul out of her.
Oh, he knew how to kiss. His tongue mated with hers in a rhythm that exactly matched the pulsing it set off in her body. Fireworks sparkled along her nerve endings, making every inch of her so sensitive that the merest brush of clothing against her skin seemed overwhelmingly sensual and sexual.
He shifted, tugging both her legs between his, so they were locked together and her throbbing center was out of reach even as it grew heavy and aching with need.
All from a kiss.
Her body wanted to fight the imprisonment until she felt his hardness against her belly. She understood then. He wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him, but he would make her wait, slow her down, force patience where she felt none.
And that understanding made her relax into his arms, and let him have his way. No need to rush. No need at all. Somehow that freed her in a way desire alone couldn’t have.
He continued to hold her close with one arm as he kissed her, but his other hand began to wander. He slipped it under her robe, leaving only her pajamas in the way, and stroked her side from breast to thigh, to the point where his leg trapped hers, then swept it up again, slowly...oh, so slowly.
And as it returned upward, it slid beneath her pajama top, and she gasped. She arched a little, breaking the kiss as she felt his callused palm touch her bare skin. He stayed there for a while, drawing slow, lazy circles on her middle while his mouth claimed hers again, this time more gently, echoing the touch of his fingers.
Impatience started to build in her again, causing her to squirm a bit against his bondage, but he didn’t release her. Her breasts ached for a touch, a kiss, until she thought she would go out of her mind from the longing.
Yet still he withheld it.
Tearing her mouth from his, she gasped for air, then reached with one hand to undo the buttons of his shirt. If he wasn’t going to give her more, she would take more.
He didn’t stop her when she pulled open his shirt and pressed her palm at last to his chest. She thought she even heard a deep sound of pleasure escape him as she began to trace the contours of those hard muscles, glorying in the smoothness of his skin, in the ripples across his belly, in the small points of his nipples. Exquisite. Perfect. As much a feast for her hands as he had been for her eyes.
Then without warning, his hands gripped her around her waist, he freed her from the prison of his legs and, leaving her almost dizzy, he lifted her over him, so that she straddled his hips.
A groan escaped her as he tugged her down until her moist yearning depths met his hardness through layers of denim and cotton. What was he doing? She needed to get rid of the clothing that interfered.
But when she reached for the snap of his jeans, he stopped her and murmured roughly, “Just ride me, Cory.”
She didn’t know what he meant until his hands gripped her hips again and he moved her against him. All of a sudden those layers of fabric didn’t seem to matter. Her hips helplessly rocked against him, demanding a solution to the problem of need.
And as she rocked, he slipped his hands up under her nightshirt and cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples.
He might as well have plugged her into an electric socket. Shocks zinged through her, setting her alight, then zipped to her center, creating an ache that made her forget everything, everything except her need.
“That’s the way...” He groaned the words, urging her on, tormenting her even as he encouraged her to ride the cresting wave. And somehow, by keeping them both clothed, he had set her free in an unexpected way.
Set her free to take what she wanted as she rubbed herself against him over and over. Set her free to give in to her need without thought of anything or anyone other than herself.
Free to be.
Free to ride the crest of the wave all the way until she tumbled wildly into
