“I’ll be self-made. Not man-made. Though I do plan on marryin’ again. The thought of livin’ alone depresses me.”
Robinson intently observed her, the clatter of the wheels overtaking all sound. God, did he admire the wistful dreaminess in that lilting voice. It made him want everything she had just described, right down to the whistling wind and the apple trees. It held a peaceful and divine purpose found by honest, hard work cradled within a dream and a promise that something could be his. Compared to this void writhing within him, telling him that he owned nothing, not a family or a home or a woman of his own, it was paradise in its truest form.
She glanced out the window. “Time sure does flit. The next stop is already ours. Pardon my reach.” She leaned forward, setting her bare hand on his thigh to balance herself and reached across him to pull on the rope attached to the driver’s leg. “Sometimes these damn drivers claim not to feel the rope. So I make sure they do.”
She set her chin and yanked the rope several more times, the faint scent of crisp soap and lye drifting toward him as she swayed against each solid tug.
A familiar shiver of awareness raced through him. That scent. It was so hauntingly familiar. It whispered to him that if he buried himself within that fragrance, he would forever know compassion, comfort and peace.
He instinctively slid his hand to her back, grazing the small hooks on her gown, and pressed her warmth against the side of his body, desperately wanting to touch her. “Georgia?”
She stiffened and glanced up at him, her hand falling away from the rope and drifting down to his thigh. Her lips parted as her shadowed green eyes searched his face. “What is it? Is something wrong? You not feelin’ well?”
Art thou afraid to be the same in thine own act and valour as thou art in desire?
Were those his words responding to his heart in this moment? He didn’t know, but something chanted that if he didn’t attempt to make this woman his, he’d be missing out on the greatest opportunity he’d ever known as a man.
He drew her closer toward himself, his hands rounding her slim shoulders, and whispered, “I want to kiss you. Can I?”
She let out a shaky breath, the warmth of that mouth grazing against his own. “I’m not very good at kissin’.”
Cradling her against the curve of his arm, he pressed her softness against his tensing body. “At least you remember what it’s like.”
She tilted her lips upward toward his own and smirked. “You’re just tryin’ to make me feel sorry for you.”
“Do you?”
“Oddly, yes. I do feel sorry for you.”
“Good.” He lowered his lips to hers. Closing his eyes, he savored the warmth of her soft mouth lingering against his own and better molded his lips against that delicate mouth.
Her moist lips parted. Though he wanted to slide his tongue deep into that mouth and ravage it, he didn’t know if that was something he was supposed to do, so he lingered, hoping she would take the lead. He could barely breathe.
Her hot velvet tongue instantly slid against his own, grazing his teeth. He bit back his own need to groan, as an ache overwhelmed his entire body. He slowly gave in to circling his tongue against hers, sensing the tongue was more than permissible.
She tasted like spiced…whiskey?
She grabbed hold of the lapels on his coat and dragged him down, down onto her, shifting her entire body beneath his own, until they were both practically hanging off the bench. He tightened his hold on her shoulders and waist and dug his booted heels into the floor of the omni to keep them both from falling.
Pressing herself more savagely against him, she pushed her tongue deeper into his mouth, responding to his tongue so fiercely his heart pounded in disbelief. Entranced by the unexpected passion pouring out of her, he reveled in the way that wet tongue moved so erotically against his own. If this were the one and only kiss he were to ever remember as a man, he would honor it with never-ending, glorying pride.
May the lightning of heaven consume me, if I adore thee not to distraction!
Crushing one hand against her bonnet, he slid his other hand down the smooth fabric of her gown, curving it to her firm, corseted waist. He dug the tips of his fingers into the fabric separating them, feeling as if he were racing against his own mind and breath, trying to remain grounded in this incredible reality. He trailed his hand back up toward her breasts, rounding his hand around its softness and weight. His cock swelled from the touch, and the need to rip his clothes apart, in an effort to show her just how divine she was, consumed the last of him. He kissed her harder, frantically digging and grinding his erection into her thigh.
Georgia tightened her lips in an effort to force out his tongue, digging her fingers into his biceps.
Reluctantly breaking their kiss, he dragged her back upright and repositioned her sidesaddle onto his lap. He cradled her for a long moment, her uneven breaths matching his own. It was the first time in nine days he felt like he finally belonged to someone and he swore to himself that he would never let this or her go, lest he be swallowed back into nothingness.
The omni around them swayed to a halt as the driver called out their stop. She shifted to move, but he fiercely held her in place. Reaching up, he trailed the tips of his fingers down past the faded ribbon of her bonnet toward the soft slope of her curving throat. “Take me out west with you,” he insisted in a barely composed tone. “I want everything you spoke of. Right down to the wind and the apple trees. I will give you every last nickel in my pocket if you promise to take me with you.”
Her eyes widened. She shoved his hand away and scrambled outside of his grasp and off his lap. Stumbling forward and onto her feet, she caught herself against the narrow pathway between the two benches leading to the rear door of the omni. “Whatever do you mean you want my land and my apple trees? We barely know each other. Even worse, you don’t even know your name.”
He sat up. “You will need someone to build your cabin, till the land and chop timber. I can do that for you. I can.”
She gawked at him, then shook her head and frantically arranged her skirts. “No. Don’t you be stickin’ your hands into my head and playin’ with my dreams like that. They’re my dreams. You hear? Not yours. Mine.”
He swallowed, his chest tightening. “I need help, Georgia. I need help if I’m going to rebuild a sense of reality. And I think you’re the one to help me do it.”
“Stop it,” she tossed at him in a harsh tone. “I’m not takin’ you with me and I most certainly can’t help you in the way you think I can.”
“I know you can. I felt it before and after we touched.”
She glared at him. “I know what you felt, Brit, and it wasn’t that. I’ve got plans and I’m sorry to say this, because I like you, I really do, but my plans don’t involve a man who doesn’t know his up from his down. A woman such as myself, who has very little to begin with, needs a grain of security. And you aren’t it.”
He scrambled to his feet. “But that kiss—”
“I shouldn’t have allowed for it. All right? I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. You’re not in your right mind and
