Oklahoma kiss (31 page)

      
But, without his loving her, she knew their relationship would end up being nothing but a casual affair from his vantage point. To prevent that, she had to win his love. She simply had to!

      
Judging by his actions he was extremely fond of her; their camaraderie was much too pleasant and comfortable for her to think anything else. Perhaps he was just the sort of man who was reluctant to make commitments or to give up a certain way of life without careful consideration. Perhaps he was the sort of man who had to be given a gentle nudge in the right direction. From what she had heard, most men —even the most rugged, strong, and robust —were like that anyway.

      
For the time being it no longer mattered whether he loved her or not, she loved him. She would do anything within her power to win his love, even if it meant waging a tumultuous war of emotions — even if it meant seducing him. A war did not have to be fought fairly. She could use her body as a weapon and perhaps in this instance, it would be the most powerful weapon on earth. It was possible she could lose some of her pride while doing battle, but if the war was won and she gained Adam's love, wouldn't the end results justify the means?

      
Her mind was made up, the die was cast, and Adam Cahill had no earthly idea what was about to hit him.

      
Blair had no experience of portraying a vamp, and not really knowing what to do, she kept her back turned, waited and listened to the sounds he made getting undressed.

      
She heard the indescribable sound of a wet shirt being removed from his body, the jangle of belt buckles as he removed his gunbelt and trouser belt, then the cot creaking beneath his weight and the thud of boots hitting the floor. The cot creaked again and the unmistakable sound of wet trousers being peeled from his long legs assailed her ears. Then, she could hear him strip a blanket from one of the cots, and a moment later, he padded toward the fireplace.

      
Pulling one of the benches over to the hearth, he spread his clothes over it. "There now, they shouldn't take too long to dry," he said a bit smugly as though proud of the way he had handled a touchy situation.

      
Blair gathered enough courage to steal a glimpse of him, and her breath caught in her throat. He looked like a magnificent golden beast.
The golden calf, perhaps?
From the yellow glow of the lamplight, and the flickering flames of the fire, his flesh appeared to be tawny in color and the water droplets that clung to his skin glistened and gleamed in the muted light. His chest was covered with a thick mat of dark, curling hair, almost hiding his nipples, and the muscles rippled with perfection. He was lean, but every corded muscle was clearly defined, even on his hard, flat stomach. A faint line of hair connected the forest on his chest with the dark swirl that grew around his navel. It grew longer, straighter, denser there before spreading outward and disappearing under the blanket. She felt her knees grow weak and her mouth become dry, as she desperately longed to see what the blanket concealed.

      
He glanced at her, then stared back at her hard, for he had recognized the heated gleam in her eyes. Swallowing hard, he took a side step and clutched the blanket a little higher. "I thought you were going to make a pot of coffee?"

      
"I intend to ... in a little while." she murmured huskily, turning and stepping slowly toward him, while unfastening the top button of her blouse.

      
"Don't you think . . . you ought to do it now." The muscles of his forearm hardened as he

      
clutched the blanket more tightly around him.

      
"No."

      
"Then . . . don't you think you should cook some supper?" He knew he was sounding ridiculous, and he was behaving as prim and prudish as some old maid schoolteacher, but it was at a tremendous cost to his sanity. With Blair looking at him so tempestuously, another minute or another button and he would not be held responsible for anything that happened.

      
"I’m not hungry and neither are you. And you don't have to look so frightened, I'm not going to hurt you."

      
"Blair, now we agreed ..."

      
"No, we didn't." She unfastened another button. "You are the one who did all of the talking. You never asked my opinion about anything. "

      
Drawing from his last source of self-restraint, he rasped, "Now, Blair, I don't want you to do this."

      
"Big liar," she whispered softly. "You want me as badly as I want you."

      
She stopped and seductively unfastened all of the buttons on her blouse, slipped it enticingly from her shoulders, and allowed it to drop to the floor. With tantalizing slowness, she raised both arms and threaded her fingers through her hair, ruffling it, then she placed both hands on her hips and thrust her breasts out.

      
"Now, tell me again that you don't want me."

      
The rich timbre of his voice broke with huskiness, "I can't do that."

      
"Why?"

      
"Because you are right, I am a liar."

      
"A big liar?"

      
"Uh huh, bigger every moment."

      
Only mere inches from him, she slowly moistened her bottom lip with her tongue, reached out and loosened the blanket. When it fell into a crumpled heap at his feet, he kicked it aside.

      
She gasped at the stateliness of the man standing before her. Pride welled inside her and fiery lights danced in her eyes at the thought that such a magnificent man wanted her. Her body quivered with emotion as she stood ramrod straight with her hands still planted firmly on her hips.

      
He knew the noble gesture would have been to ask her if she was sure she wanted to do this, but he was not noble and he wanted her too badly to risk her changing her mind. Besides, it was much too late for that now.

      
Blair was wearing a sheer chemise but it did nothing to bide her sensuality. Her breasts, with their dusty crowns, beckoned to him, thrusting against the fabric in brazen invitation.

      
Adam wanted to see her body as she had seen his, but some inner voice told him if he touched her intimately before she was undressed, he would lose all sense of reasoning and he wanted them to savor this night to the fullest.

      
Without hesitation, he unfastened her skirt and allowed it to fall heedlessly to the floor. One gentle tug and her petticoat joined it. He grasped her by the waist and sat her on the table. Then, he methodically tugged off her boots, and with tantalizing slowness, removed each stocking while gently stroking the velvet softness of her legs. The tiny pearl buttons of her chemise were deftly unfastened by his masterful hands. Then he slipped the straps over her satiny shoulders and tossed the garment carelessly aside.

      
Stepping back slightly, he admired his handiwork. "Lovely, lovely," he murmured huskily, his eyes devouring her pointed, cream-colored breasts.

      
Reaching out, he tangled his fingers through her hair and pulled her head back for a kiss that seared their souls. It was hard, almost brutal in its passion. Unwinding his hands from her thick mane of hair, they slipped caressingly to her shoulders. He tore his mouth free and worked his way down, tongue flicking, tasting, hot and moist over her skin.

      
Her body responded passionately. She arched her back and offered herself to his seeking mouth. Her head fell back on her shoulders; her long abundance of hair swung down her back. Her breath came in short ragged gasps as he ravaged her skin with demanding kisses. His lips dipped to the pulsating hollow of her throat, then his mouth eagerly paid homage to each dusky nipple. The heat of his mouth left a scorching trail as he kissed her with a pagan hunger.

      
With one fluid motion, he scooped her into his arms, padded across the floor and placed her gently on a narrow cot. Urging her to raise her hips, he stripped the lacy undergarment from her body, and his breath caught in his throat at her exquisite beauty. Towering over her momentarily, he then lay down beside her. He cupped one breast masterfully, flicking at the dusky nipple that hardened beneath his touch on its own volition. Scintillating tingles raced from the stiff peak in all directions, and he was further stimulated by the pleasure he gave her.

      
Deep within the secret place between her thighs, Blair felt a slow, burning ache flicker, take flame, then burst into a raging tempest that threatened to consume her very being. A deep moan came from her throat, but it was one derived from sheer ecstasy.

      
Adam's hand slowly inched its way between her loins to the flower of her womanhood. He brushed her intimately, stroking the pulsating velvet surrounded by dark, crisp curls, until he found the very essence of her femininity. The skin was satiny soft, and his fingers danced, smoothed, and stroked until she was ready for him.

      
Adam rose above her, spreading her legs with his knees, then he lowered his mouth to hers for one more scorching, tantalizing kiss. With shoulder muscles tensed and straining, he lowered himself, slowly —so slowly.

      
Blair felt the throbbing shaft of his love entering and waited for the pain she expected to come. Instead of pain, the sensation was nothing but gratifying pleasure. Stars seem to explode before her eyes from the delicious feeling that spread through her loins.

      
Adam remained still for a few moments until her body moistened to accommodate his invasion, then when he started moving, it was with short, gentle thrusts. He ached to plunge in deeply, to bury himself completely in her sweetness, yet he used restraint, for in some sane portion of his mind, he knew Blair was still a fragile flower, just opening her petals into full bloom. But soon, much to his surprise and pleasure, each erotic thrust was met with a passionate counterthrust of her own.

      
Blair needed no urging, no guidance, her movements were primitive, rhythmical, a predisposition that humans possessed since time began.

      
Together, their loins began to churn tumultuously. Their lovemaking became as wild and intense as the savage tempest that blew outside the confines of the small cabin. The storm outside was in a different world though, and they were in their own salacious Paradise, their own sensual Garden of Eden.

      
Then finally, after boiling blood had cooled, it warmed again and they went back into each others arms. This time it was a gentle meeting, a blending of souls, a joining of minds, and a fusion of togetherness.

      
Adam speared a bite of flapjack and bacon with his fork and wagged it at Blair. "Sweetheart, when you said Tillie had taught you a little about cooking, that was a definite understatement. These are the best flapjacks I have ever tasted, and the bacon is cooked exactly the way I like it. The coffee is good, too."

      
"You made the coffee," she reminded him.

      
"Oh, that's right, I did." He helped himself to a couple more flapjacks and craned his neck in the direction of the fireplace. "Is there any more of that hot syrup left?"

      
"Yes, I think so." She looked at him with dismay as she stood and wrapped a rag around the bale of a small pot sitting on the hearth. While pouring the syrup in his plate, she shook her head unbelievingly and asked, "Where are you putting all of that food? I know that makes fourteen or fifteen flapjacks you've eaten. My lands, I would burst wide open if I ate that much."

      
He leaned across the table and kissed her lovingly. "Sweetheart, our lovemaking drained all of my energy." He jiggled his brows suggestively. "I'm just replenishing my supply, just in case ..."

      
Knowing he was just teasing, Blair chuckled, low and throaty, and playfully swatted him with the towel she still had in her hand. Reaching out, she stuck her finger in his syrup and stuck it in her mouth.

      
Adam’s stomach suddenly plummeted all of the way to his feet before it began the steady climb to his throat where it firmly lodged. What amazed him, she had no idea how provocative that gesture was. She was so sensual and alluring, it seemed impossible for her to be so incredibly naive and innocent, yet, that she was. There were no doubts in his mind about her innocence. But if the truth was known, he suspected most females were exactly like Blair. It was as if they were born with some innate ability to drive men wild without deliberately meaning to. Even when it came to simple gestures such as batting their eyes or crossing a well-turned ankle, it seemed they knew precisely what they were doing. It was clearly a mystery, and undoubtedly, one that he would never figure out.

      
Blair went to the door and peered outside. Stars were shining and there was not a cloud in the sky, but that was not unusual for Oklahoma weather. It was often said, "If you didn't like the weather, just stay around for an hour or two and it will change".

      
"It will be daylight soon," she commented, walking over to the cooktable and working the lye soap into a frothy lather, then swishing it around in the dishpan of hot water. "With the storm and all, Warren will be worried that something might have happened, so I need to get home as soon as possible. But I realize you should be getting back to town, too, so I can go home alone. And please don't say it is too dangerous. I can take care of myself and you know it, or you should by now. I know I became a little confused when we were looking for the cabin, but . . ." I Adam stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I am not arguing with you about it, and now that you have an understanding about what is going on around here, I think you have enough common sense not to take any unnecessary chances. But I do want to talk to you, although it concerns a different matter." He commanded her to look at him. "Blair, do us both a favor and don't try to conceal the fact from Warren that Coy wasn't here. When he finds out — and he will eventually — it will just make matters worse."