The Marshal Takes A Bride (20 page)

Consequences be damned, she was hungry for the feel of his body twined around hers, delirious with wanting him, desperate to be possessed by Tucker. His mouth plundered hers, and she returned his feverous kisses with a fierceness that surprised her. She placed her hands on his face and molded his lips to hers, opening to receive him. He tasted of sun-kissed days and pleasure-filled nights. Sweet, sinful sensations erupted in a delicious soft moan that escaped from the back of her throat.

His hands gripped her shoulders as though he would never let her go, his lips plundering hers, as he pushed her back until the back of her legs bumped into the wall. Her body was flat against the hard surface as he leaned into his kiss, pressing his arousal through her skirts into the vee of her legs. From the feel of his muscular thighs to the strength of his sinewy chest, she felt all of him. Every delicious, rock-hard inch.

Since she had returned home, she had fought the way their bodies seemed to be drawn to each other. She had fought the need to experience being in his arms again. She had fought the memories of their one night together.

In one weak moment he had managed to overcome her defenses.

She slid her hands down his shoulders, down his muscled back, past his waist, until she gripped his buttocks, melding them even more firmly together.

She was tired of fighting these sensations. She wanted Tucker, the man who fished with her son—and kissed like the devil. The only man she had ever given her heart to.

He moaned, his tongue tracing the ridges of her lips, his kiss turning savage as she held him tight against her, intoxicating her with desire. Nothing mattered at this moment except this man, this kiss and the feel of his body taut with need for her, only her.

The rational part of her mind that refused to be quiet warned her to step away, that it wasn’t too late to stop this crazy risk she was taking with Tucker. But she knew she was past the point of control. Nothing could stop her from being with this man, not even the risk of losing her heart to him again. Not even the chance of him walking away and leaving her behind again.

Tucker made her feel alive, he made her feel things she tried to resist, and he made her feel like a woman.

His lips moved to her throat, pushing the soft fabric of her dress out of the way as he slid his hands down the front of her dress, skimming her curves like a man reading Braille.

“When will your grandfather be home?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Not until tomorrow morning,” she said, tugging on his shirt, pulling the material free of his pants.

She wanted to feel his naked flesh, run her fingertips over his muscles, down the wisps of fur on his solid chest. She wanted to touch him, make him as giddy with passion as she felt. She wanted Tucker, and she wanted him now.

The past be damned, the future was tomorrow, but tonight she needed to experience the gratification they had found in each other’s arms so long ago. She needed Tucker. She was tired of fighting this thing between them; she was tired of denying the attraction she felt for him.

With a final tug, his shirt came free of his pants, and she slipped her hands beneath the material, needing to feel his naked flesh. She ran her fingertips lightly up the hardened muscles of his chest, touching every solid ridge.

Why couldn’t she put him out of her mind instead of craving his touch? Why couldn’t she just give up and walk away from the gunslinger turned marshal and give her heart to someone else?

Because no matter what, he made her feel alive. With just one smoldering glance her senses were quivering with anticipation. No other man intrigued her like Tucker.

“Sarah,” he moaned, his lips covering hers once more. As their kiss deepened, his fingers deftly worked at the buttons on the back of her dress until she felt him sliding the sleeves over her shoulders, down her arms. The cool night air brushed her skin, and she felt a moment of panic. What was she doing?

And then his lips touched the sensuous part of her neck, causing her to shiver. Their previous coupling had been spontaneous, primitive and so pleasurable it could only be described as sinful. Was it just a fanciful memory or would their lovemaking tonight offer the same stunning experience.

His lips trailed the material down her neck, nipping her in the curvature of her shoulder. A shudder went through her as his lips seared a path down her chest. With a final swish her dress landed in a pool around her feet.

She leaned her head back against the wall. She was crazy. But she wanted him, and at this moment nothing else mattered. Her breathing was fast and shallow as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Clumsily she made her way down the front of the garment, resisting the urge to stop and let her fingers explore.

As she undid the last button, she yanked the shirt off of his back and tossed it to the floor with the other clothes. A shiver of need ran through her as she reached for the buttons on his pants.

How was this any different from the last time they had made love? There were no promises for tomorrow. There were no declarations of love. There was only this need to feel his arms around her once again.

“Wait, Sarah,” he whispered, as he reached down and tugged his boots off, kicking them across the room. He stood, and she leaned into him and kissed his naked flesh, gently running her tongue along his chest, his skin rippling from the effect.

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back. Quickly he untied the front of her chemise and pulled the cotton garment over her head, throwing the material in a haphazard way. She stood before him, bare from the waist up.

She stepped away from the wall, grabbed his hand and tugged on his arm. Maybe she was crazy, but her son was asleep in the other room, and though she doubted he would waken, she would feel more comfortable with another door between them.

Halfway to her bedroom, she stopped and kissed Tucker, leaning into his embrace, unable to bear their bodies being separated. Her lips expressed what her heart knew and her voice could not say as he pulled the string on her drawers. They dropped to her feet, leaving her naked and exposed. He stepped out of her kiss, his eyes raking her with warmth that was visible even in the dim light. Suddenly, standing there naked before him, all the doubts she had held at bay slammed into her with the realization that they had promised each other nothing. Just like last time, they had spoken no words of love, only the secret language of their bodies clamoring for each other.

He had walked away from her once before; there was no guarantee he would stay this time. “Tucker, maybe we shouldn’t. . . .”

“Like hell,” he said, his lips covering hers, his belt rubbing against her naked skin.

Maybe she worried too much, but the feel of his lips covering hers pushed aside her remaining doubts. There were no promises for tomorrow, but there was the pleasure of tonight.

Reluctantly he released her lips, and she felt bereft at the loss of pleasure. He stepped out of her embrace and quickly finished unbuttoning his pants, shucking them and tossing the unwanted garment to the floor.

He stood naked, all male before her. His manhood protruded before him, smooth and long and hard. The moonlight streaming through the window cast an iridescent glow about him. She had lost her head over him once before. What was to stop her from losing it again? Or had she already?

With a cry, she reached out and touched his face, her hand caressing his cheek and pulling him toward her. “I want you, Tucker.”

His lips covered her mouth as he backed her toward the bed. She felt the wooden frame touch the backs of her legs and found herself being laid gently down on the bed. The mattress sagged when he joined her on the bed, and she knew soon she would give herself to him again.

Though this night was different, with the memory of Tombstone hovering like a pleasant ghost, shimmering like that night so long ago when they first made love.

“Thank God you do,” he whispered, nipping the curvature of her neck.

His lips trailed down until he reached her breasts, and his mouth closed over her nipple, laving the bud until she gripped his head, her breathing harsh.

His hands skimmed her body, sending shivers through her, while his fingers delved into the soft curls that covered her femininity. She jerked at the unexpected jolt of pleasure that rippled through her. Only Tucker seemed to make her act like a wanton. Only he could break down her barriers and release the lustful woman inside. She wanted him desperately, yet she was afraid.

“I’m going to tease you until you beg me to stop,” he gasped, breathing hard to fill his lungs.

Sarah moaned, the sound loud and voracious in the darkened room. She arched against his hand, gripping the sheets against the raging need his hand was building with his caresses.

“Tucker!” she cried, as she tensed, trying to hold on to the sweeping pleasure that ascended on her as she disintegrated beneath his hand.

For a moment she lay there, her breathing shallow and fast, her eyes closed, while she slowly collected herself. Until the feel of Tucker thoroughly aroused, lying beside her, caught her attention.

She opened her eyes and gazed at him, his eyes dark, hungry and so beautiful she had to resist the urge to kiss each one.

She didn’t want to love him, didn’t want to experience these emotions. But there was no denying he made her feel wonderful. He made her laugh and he made her cry, but most of all he made her feel so alive. And there was no denying she still loved him.

Her hand slid past his waist, teasing him, getting just close enough to brush her fingers across the tip of his manhood. She gazed up at him and watched as anticipation rippled across his face.

“Now who will be doing the begging?” she quipped.

Finally she wrapped her hand around his rock-hard shaft. She gently slid her palm over the tip, and then wrapped her fingers around him. She stroked the hot and smooth length of him gripping him until he grabbed her hand.

Rolling himself on top of her, he caught and held both her hands high above her head.

She writhed beneath him, teasing him with her body, when her hands could not do the job.

Slowly he slid his body down her breasts, her thighs, still holding her hands captive in his own. His knees nudged open her thighs.

“Enough, Sarah,” he whispered, his husky voice sending tremors down her spine. “It’s past time for me to feel you wrapped around me.”

“Wait,” she gasped, jerking her hands free. She wanted only to feel him inside her. She had been waiting so long for this moment. But she couldn’t. One reckless night of passion had given her Lucas. She had to be cautious.

Sarah reached beside the bed for her doctor’s bag and opened it quickly, finding what she was looking for.

She pulled out the condom and slipped it on Tucker, quickly tying it into place before he could protest, not quite meeting his gaze.

“What’s that?” he questioned.

“It’ll keep me from getting pregnant,” she said, glancing up at him.

Again,
she thought silently. Though she loved Lucas, she didn’t need a second child by this irresponsible man.

He gazed at her questioningly but didn’t refute her comment. When she was finished, his knees nudged open her thighs, his hands gripped her waist as he brought her hips up to meet him and he entered her in a single thrust.

She moaned, the sound loud in the small room as he thrust into her welcoming body.

“Tucker,” she cried, unable to contain the passion their bodies were creating.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, staring at her, his gaze hard and unwavering.

“Not until I die,” she said, as she rose to meet each thrust.

He delved into her rhythmically, filling her, melding her to him while she clutched him, relishing in the feel of his flesh to hers.

With each recurring thrust, his moans filled someplace deep within her heart that had been empty for so very long. Sweat glistened on his brow, and Sarah reached up to caress his face with her hand. He opened his eyes, staring at her, filling her soul as well as her body with sweetness, with a contentment that had long been denied. A pleasure that even now was rushing toward her, unstoppable.

Sarah moaned with satisfaction as her body went rigid, spasms of desire surrounding Tucker. Cascading shivers of delight left her clinging to Tucker while he reached his own climax, shuddering, gripping her, as he found pleasure.

Sarah breathed deeply the musky scent of Tucker and pressed her lips to the inside of his neck between gasps for air. She was completely spent as she lay relaxed, sated and more confused than ever by the sensations Tucker seemed to generate.

Tucker’s breathing was fast and shallow as he leaned against her. For several minutes they lay in each other’s arms, their breathing slowly returning to normal.

“Damn, Sarah,” he said softly. “How in the hell can a man top that?”

She laughed amazed their thoughts were so closely related.

“It’s not right for a man to compare, but being with you, Sarah, is the best.”

Shock rippled through her, dousing her like a cup of cold water.

He sighed and rolled to his side, pulling her close to him. “We’ve always been good together. At school, as friends, even as bedmates. No wonder I keep coming back for more.”

“All you can say is that we’re good as bedmates?” she asked, a feeling of disbelief steeling through her.

Just sex. Good sex, but suddenly all of the doubts she had pushed aside came rushing to the forefront. Why had she thought that this time would be different? Why had she believed that she could just accept passion from him and expect nothing more?

Her heart was seriously involved with this man, being with him, with sharing the most intimate act between a man and a woman, and all he could say was, “You’re the best?”

She was a damn fool. He probably thought she was just some woman to pass the time with. He probably was thinking how fortunate she should be feeling right now that he had spent his time with her, not someone else.

Why had she lied to herself and believed that he had changed? No, he was still the same man who had deserted her in Tombstone. A little older, none the wiser.