A Real Cowboy Knows How to Kiss (19 page)

He grabbed the key from its hiding place by the door, and within a split second, he was taking the stairs two at a time, still kissing her relentlessly. He burst into the upstairs hallway, heading unerringly toward the guest bedroom she'd been sleeping in, clearly having taken note of the layout when they'd stopped by several days ago to pick up more of her clothes.

Her heart leapt as he settled her on the bed, dragging off her shirt and bra in a seamless move as he moved over her, using his body to rock her onto her back, breaking the kiss only enough to get his shirt off as well. The moment she felt his bare chest beneath her hands, a part of her soul wanted to cry. Somehow, she knew it would be the last time she'd ever be with him, the last time she'd ever hold this wonderful man in her arms.

"Don't cry, sweetheart." Steen kissed the tears from her cheeks as he framed her face with his hands. "I don't want you to cry."

She clasped his wrists, refusing to let him go. "Sometimes tears are okay, Steen. Sometimes you have to let your heart bleed or you'll never live. I'd rather cry, than to never love enough to feel that kind of pain. I don't want my heart to be hard anymore, no matter how much it hurts to love."

His face softened as he searched her face. "I'm so far from where you are emotionally," he said.

"No, you're not." She managed a smile through her tears. "You're right here with me, whether you can see it or not." She locked her hands behind his neck. "Make love to me, Steen. Please, make love to me with every last bit of your soul. Just this once, this one time in your life, don't hold anything back from me. That's the gift you can give me."

For a moment, he said nothing, searching her face so intently she felt like he was trying to discern every last scar on her soul and heal every last one by the sheer force of his will. Then, he kissed her, a kiss that was so achingly, mournfully beautiful that she felt as if the lonesome, haunting howl of the wolf had come alive in the kiss.

He broke the kiss and rolled off her, standing beside the bed as he kicked off his boots and shed his jeans and boxer briefs. He didn't let her take hers off, instead sliding them off her body in the most sensual and tender seduction, showering her body with kisses as he exposed her skin.

By the time he'd finally removed the last pieces of her clothing, her body was aching and restless for more. He moved over her, kissing his way up her body before he settled his weight on her. His skin was hot against hers, his body like steel cords of muscle, his kiss the most beautiful seduction. His fingers slid through her hair, caressing her with soulful tenderness.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, her body tightening as his hips moved against hers, his cock sliding over her wetness in a tease that was almost more than she could endure. "Make love to me," she whispered against his mouth. "I want us to be connected forever."

He said nothing, but suddenly everything shifted from sweet seduction to carnal possession and need. It became about lips and tongues, touching and need. It became a desperate attempt for both of them to unleash every last bit of their souls into each other, enough to sustain them forever. His teeth grazed over her nipple, making her body clench. She loved every touch, every kiss, every intimacy. She knew he would never let himself love her, or at least admit it even to himself, but that this moment, the kisses, and the touches, were the words and the emotions he'd never share or acknowledge.

Each kiss was a whisper of his love, of his heart, of his soul, offered to her and no one else, and she treasured every one of them. Louis had said he loved her, but he'd never made her feel loved. Steen had never said he loved her, but she knew she'd never feel as loved as she was in this moment.

His fingers slipped inside her, and she gasped at the invasion, her body begging for more. She was ready for him, so completely, and he knew it. She didn't want any more foreplay. She wanted him inside her. She wanted him to be with her the way that it would never be with anyone else.

As if sensing her need, Steen shifted his position so his cock was pressing against her. Excitement raced through her as she locked her legs around his hips, trapping him. He moved his hips slightly, teasing her, nudging at her entrance.

She couldn't help the groan that escaped her, and he grinned as he caught it in a searing kiss, even as he slid a tiny bit deeper. "You want me?" he whispered.

"God, yes." She gripped his shoulders, shifting restlessly beneath him. "I will always want you, Steen. Just you. No one else." She opened her eyes and stared into his face. She saw the vulnerability in his eyes, and she knew what he needed to hear. Her big, strong man who had survived hell to be here with her needed to hear her say it, despite all his claims to the contrary. "I love you, Steen. With all my heart."

Relief flooded his features, and he thrust deep, plunging into her. He gripped her hair almost desperately, searching her face. "You really love me, don't you?"

"I do." She smiled, even as her body clenched in response to another thrust. "For always."

"You're so incredible." There was a sadness to his words, but he kissed her before she could say anything. From that moment on, there were no more words. Just Steen showing her with his body, his touch, and his kisses how he felt about her. She heard his unspoken words, and she accepted what he offered, the emotions spiraling around them in a rising intensity as the lovemaking became more frantic, until all that was left was the two of them and a need so great that she knew they would never outrun it.

He thrust one final time, and the orgasm flooded her, a magnificent explosion of fireworks that filled her soul with more love than she ever thought possible.

"God, Erin," Steen whispered as the orgasm took him as well. "You're my everything."

It was all he said, the only words he uttered until she fell asleep in his arms, but it was enough.

"You sure you don't want me to come in?" Steen reached into the bed of his truck and pulled out Erin's two powder blue suitcases. The airport was bustling and busy, with the energy of a place on the move.

She shook her head, her chin held high. She was still wearing jeans, but her shirt was dressier than she'd been wearing in Wyoming, and she was wearing low heels and makeup. Still the Erin he knew, but with hints of the Erin she really was: independent, successful, and on her way back to the life she deserved. "Nope," she said. "I can handle my bags. They aren't heavy."

"I know you can handle them. I just thought…" Shit. He thought what? That he could follow her into the airport and something would change? Something that would make it so he didn't have to stand back and let her walk out of his life? He'd been so certain that letting her go was the right thing to do, but now that he was standing beside her at the curb at the airport, his instincts were screaming at him to stop being an ass and to claim her right then, right there, for all time.

He hadn't seen her for the last several days, since they'd made love after their date. He hadn't planned to drive her to the airport, but this morning, he'd decided he had to see her again, so he'd driven to the clinic to pick her up for the airport.

He hadn't called ahead. He hadn't asked permission. He'd simply waited outside for two hours until she'd finally emerged, with her suitcases in hand. For a long moment, she'd stared at him, and he'd thought that she wasn't going to let him drive her, then she'd handed him her bags and climbed into the cab of his truck.

The relief he'd felt when she'd accepted his offer of a ride had been almost overwhelming, but it had quickly dissipated when awkwardness had arisen between them. On the entire drive to the airport, there had been only casual, meaningless conversation. He didn't know what he'd wanted to say, or how he'd wanted his last moments with her to be, but he knew it wasn't a car ride filled with empty dialogue.

And now, his time was almost out.

He tipped his cowboy hat back on his head, restless and unsettled, searching for answers he couldn't find. "Don't ever forget how amazing you are," he finally said. It felt lame, but he meant it. He didn't know what else to say.

She cocked her head, studying him. "You have to come get me," she said.

He frowned, confused by her comment. "Come get you from where? When?"

"When you decide you're ready for me. The ball's in your court. You have to be the one to make the next move. You know I love you. The next step is yours."

He ground his jaw, fighting against the sudden surge of hope, disbelief, and denial. The need to grab her around the waist, haul her against him, and claim her forever, was almost insurmountable. Every part of him wanted to be with her, but he fisted his hands, summoning ironclad self-control to keep himself from reaching for her. He didn't know what to say, how to express what he was feeling. "Erin—"

She held up her hand, silencing him. "There's nothing else to say. I'm going home." She took the bags from him, careful not to brush his hand with her fingers, a rejection that bit deep, so damned deep. She met his gaze. "I don't know that I could live here," she said, her gaze steady. "I don't know that I would give up my career to move out here. I don't know if I'd say yes if you came after me. But that shouldn't stop you from trying, if that's what you want to do."

He searched her face, and saw the truth in her eyes. "You really still love me?"

"Yes, I do. Just as how I'm still your everything." She smiled then, that same mesmerizing smile that he'd first seen so long ago, when she'd succeeded in talking that vet into taking the bird. She cocked her head. "I have one question, before I go."

Hope leapt through him. Hope for what, he didn't know, but definitely hope. "What's that?"

"Did you ever look for her?"

He frowned. "For who?"

"Your mom. When you got older, did you ever try to find out what happened to her? Did you ever find out why she didn't come back when she'd promised she would?"

He shrugged, his muscles tensing. "I tried. I couldn't find anything. She just took off, I guess."

She studied him. "Someone knows what happened to her. You should find out. Sometimes life isn't as hopeless as you believe it must be." She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Good luck, Steen, with everything." She winked. "And stay out of prison, you hear?"

"Yeah, okay, for you, I'll stay clean." A brief smile flashed across his face. "Promise me, you'll beat the hell out of any man who tells you you're not good enough."

"You bet." She gave him a small salute, and then turned away. He watched her until she faded into the crowd, but she never looked back, not even once. Still, he didn't move. He waited another fifteen minutes, half-expecting to see her running back toward him through the crowds, her arms held out to him.

She didn't come, and eventually, he got back in the truck. He sat there for a few minutes, still watching the door, but she didn't appear. Grimly, he realized that she had truly walked away, without a single glance back. It was what he'd wanted, but it sucked, far more than he had ever expected. His entire soul felt heavy, as if it were being sucked into ever-deepening quicksand, and he felt exhausted, his muscles too drained to even turn the key in the ignition.

Until now, the moment he'd been declared guilty in that courtroom had been the worst moment of his life. He'd been unable to breathe, shocked that he had just been convicted of attempted murder. His entire world had started spinning, totally out of control, and only his tight grip on his chair had kept his hands from shaking violently.

But watching Erin walk away had been a thousand times worse. He felt like his soul simply withered up and died, leaving him with nothing but memories of a time when he'd once been alive. Jesus. How in the hell was he going to go on from this? What did a man do next, when the weight on his soul was too heavy to bear, and he had nowhere better to go, no hope to hang onto, and no dream to pursue?

After a long while, he numbly started the engine, and glanced back at the door one more time. A well-dressed man with silver hair walked out, and for a split-second, he thought it was Pointer's dad, who had greeted him that day when he'd gotten out of prison to thank him for saving his son's life. He realized almost immediately that he wasn't. Of course not. No one was going to walk out those doors for him today.

He started the engine and began to drive, away from the airport, away from the only woman who had ever mattered to him, except his mother.

His mother.

Erin's words about finding out what happened to her flashed through his mind, and for the first time in years, he wondered about the answers he'd never gotten. He gritted his jaw, reminding himself that it was in the past, and it didn't matter anymore.

But he could still see Erin's steady gaze as she'd told him to ask one more time. Shit. He'd wanted to prove to her that she was worthy, not to give up, but it hadn't turned out that way. She was the one who believed in him. He knew she was wrong to think he was such a great guy, but suddenly, he wanted to be the man she believed in. He wanted to make her proud, in at least one small way.

Swearing under his breath as he eased the truck to a stop at a red light, he looked down at his phone, sitting on the console beside him. After a long moment, he picked it up, and then scrolled through and found the number for Thomas Smith, Pointer's dad. He hesitated briefly, and then he pressed "Send."

A cultured woman's voice answered on the first ring. "May I assist you?"

Her voice was so refined and cultured that Steen almost hung up. He didn't belong in that world. Then he thought of Erin, and resolution flooded him. "My name is Steen Stockton. I'm looking for Thomas Smith."

"Steen Stockton? The man who saved Pointer's life?" The woman's voice changed instantly from cool and reserved to warm and inviting.