Another Chance (23 page)

"Must get tiring."

She sighed.  "You have no idea."

He touched her cheek, let his hand linger over the softness.  "You don't have to pretend around me."

Slender fingers wrapped around his, held him there against the warmth of her face.  Something shifted in her eyes.  The sadness melted away.  What replaced it shot straight through Wade.

"Jillian..."

Her grip tightened.  "I'm sorry for everything that happened tonight, I truly am.  But is it wrong that one of the things I'm most sorry for is that we didn't have the chance to dance?"

Dance.  He took a relieved breath.  That he could manage.

Wade stepped off the porch, held out his hand.  "Miss Matthews.  Would you care to dance?"

Her eyes widened.  "Here?  Now?"

"Come on, Jillian.  You've faced worse.  I'm actually a decent dancer," he teased.

A thousand stars lit up her face when she smiled.  He may have been standing in a dirt yard, dressed in simple pants and plain blue cotton shirt, but he suddenly felt like a king.

She placed his jacket on the porch.  Her hand fit perfectly in his as he moved them away from the house.  Her body felt even better when she stepped into his embrace.  The warmth of her, the feel of her, all the wonderful, mysterious scents of a woman encircled him, blurred the edges of reason.  Want, need.  Wade felt as though he were on top of a mountain, about to lose his footing.

How bad could the fall be? he found himself wondering.

It was even better here, Jillian realized.  There were no judging stares to worry about, no need to keep to propriety to keep tongues from wagging.  If she wanted to step a little closer to Wade, which she did, who was there to condemn her?  To start gossip about her in town?  Here there was only the moon, the damp air, and the man who held her firmly, yet tenderly in his arms.

She'd always thought him rugged, from the first time she'd seen him, but with shadows darkening his face, with the moon playing in his hair, he seemed mysterious.  And appealing.  Very, very, appealing.

His hand flexed around hers almost as if he'd read her thoughts.  Dark eyes fell to her mouth.  Her hand had been resting comfortably on his shoulder but she moved it now as a recklessness she'd never experienced before drove her to seek what she most wanted.

What she wanted most was to kiss him.

Her fingers slid up the back of his neck, delved into the cool, silkiness of his hair.  At her back his hand dug into her flesh.  Her feet stopped moving and her body pressed to his.  His breath was sweet and warm on her face, his body firm against hers.  Her heart raced as he watched her intensely, as his own hands wrapped around her back.

He leaned down, pressed his lips to hers and held there for a few seconds.  He did it again.  For a moment, a terrible moment, she thought that was all he was going to do, kiss her chastely, then tell her goodnight.  But then his tongue stroked her lips, teased until they trembled open on a sigh.

He sank into her.  Claimed her.  Hot and hungry his mouth took hers, took her until she was deaf to everything but the blood surging through her veins, blind to everything but what her body ached for.

Her hands dropped to his shoulders where she clung.  Underneath her palms, wide, strong shoulders kept her anchored.  Yearning, a fierce yearning she'd never anticipated, pooled in her breasts and lower still, surprising her.  His kiss continued to take, his tongue left no part of her mouth untouched.  Aching, restless, she shifted against Wade.  His chest rubbed against hers and her nipples reacted immediately.  The sensation was delicious, forbidden.  Jillian did it again.

Wade pulled her hard against him. Jillian was a doctor.  She knew what pressed against her.  But she was also a woman, a woman with desires.  Her breasts were heavy, weighted with need.  Where his arousal pushed against her, she was moist and throbbing.

"Jillian," he panted, as he pulled his mouth away.  He rested his forehead on hers.  "I didn't come here for this.  We have to stop."

"No, we don't," she whispered.  "Come inside."

His eyes were dark and tortured when he looked at her.  "You don't know what you're asking."

"I'm a doctor; I know exactly what I'm asking."

He shook his head, though he continued to hold her firmly against him.  "Don't tempt me, Jillian.  I'm trying real hard to be a gentleman.  I don't want you to think-"

"I know what I want, Wade."  She cupped his face.  "What is it you want?"

More than he deserved, he thought.  More than he had a right to considering it couldn't go past this.  It would be easy to take her.  And damned if his body wasn't primed to make love to her.  It was wrong, though, wasn't it, he thought as those eyes searched his, challenged him to take what was being offered.

Her thumb rubbed his bottom lip.  Her breath tickled his throat.  She was more intoxicating than Silver's best whiskey and he already knew her taste was unequaled.  He throbbed for her.  Throbbed to sink into her, to hear his name on her lips as he drove her over the edge.  But he couldn't.  She'd never be content to be a rancher's wife, she'd always want more.  He'd never be enough.

"I want you, Jillian," he admitted because he respected her enough to give her the truth.  "I want to make love to you, but after tonight-" His breath shook as her hands caressed his face.  "I can't make promises.  The ranch is in dire straits, I have Annabelle to consider and-"

"I don't need promises," she whispered.

Her lips hovered over his and even before she kissed him, before she slipped her perfect tongue into his mouth, he knew, he just knew, that he was through arguing.

***

He couldn't give her promises, but he could give her romance.  Two lanterns glowed in her small room, one from the dresser and one from the small table next to her bed.  He pulled back the covers, met her gaze.

His first thought, and he was sure he'd go to Hell for it, was that she didn't look scared or timid the way Amy had on their wedding night.  Instead she looked him in the eye and came to him.  She reached within her curls for a pin but he stopped her.  He'd been dying to get his fingers in her hair for too long.

"Let me."

He wasn't careful with the pins; they pinged on the floor as he released them of their duty.  Auburn strands fell in silken ribbons over his hands.  His fingers ploughed through them, tangled in them.  Using them as leverage, he tilted her head back.  Her mouth was open and ready for his and he took what she willingly offered, sipping then gulping.  Her taste was a flavor he couldn't get enough of.

But it wasn't only her taste he was after.  He was desperate for her touch.  With two hands on the material, he yanked his shirt from his pants.  He reached for the buttons--he'd already left two open--but her hand stilled his.

"Let me," she said, mirroring his words.

Her eyes were on her task and he hungered as he watched her face, as he felt those hands brush his chest.  There were only four buttons on his shirt so it didn't take her long.  With her eyes rising to his, she grabbed his shirt and drew it over up over his chest.  Her breath whispered against his nakedness as she reached to draw the garment over his head.

The moment the shirt was free his hands were at her waist, not to hold her, but to hold on as her splayed fingers explored his chest, from his collarbone, through his hair and over his belly.  His mouth went bone dry when she followed the trail of hair down to the waist of his pants.

The day she'd come to him for help she'd stared at his chest. He'd pictured this exact moment ever since.  Not a damn thing compared to that feathery touch tracing over his muscles, discovering the differences that made them man and woman.

If she was dreaming she never wanted to awaken.  She'd wondered what the ridges of his belly would feel like.  Would the hair that sprinkled his chest be soft or coarse?  She'd never imagined his belly would twitch when her hands skimmed over it.  That the hair would be a combination of soft and coarse that drew her attention over and over again.  Or that a man's nipples could get as hard as her own.  Intrigued, she scraped her nails over them.

His breath hitched.  He shackled her wrists with his hands and held her arms at her sides.  His mouth came down hard on hers, his tongue slaked hers until she could barely catch her breath.

"I need to see you," he rasped when he came up for air.

As a rule Jillian didn't find it practical to wear a corset, and luckily, women in the west were the same.  Still, when the occasion deemed it, she laced herself into one.  Tonight had been such a night.  And once the rest of her clothing was tossed aside and she stood before Wade in her corset and chemise, her breasts straining in their confinement, and his heavy-lidded gaze drawn to the skin that spilled over, she was especially glad she'd worn one.

Heart pounding, Jillian held her breath as his hands reached for her.  Hook by hook he moved until the garment fell open and her breasts sprang forth.  His breath whooshed over her neck and her nipples puckered against her thin chemise.  He cupped her through the fabric, circled and squeezed.  The cotton rubbed at her nipples, creating a sweet ache in her breasts.

His eyes found hers, held.  Everything fell away but the man before her.  The commotion at the dance, the regret, the hopelessness of ever being accepted in Cedar Springs.  It all slipped away like a dissipating fog until there was only this man, this beautiful man, before her.

He captured her mouth again, and she rose to her toes to give him everything.  To take everything in return.  His hands moved at her hips and it wasn't until she felt the whisper of air at her waist that she realized he'd lifted her chemise.

Her heart skipped, then thudded.  She'd never done anything like this before.  Clint had never done more than kiss her and hold her hand.  In truth, she hadn't minded.  She realized now as her chemise rolled over her waist that she'd never wanted him to.  No, it went beyond that.  She'd never needed him to.

It was different with Wade.  In that moment it was as though her very soul needed him in order to survive.

He drew the kiss out, licking and tasting as his hands, full of her chemise, stayed just below her breasts.

He was going as slowly as he could but his hands shook with the effort.  Her response was fire in his blood and it licked at him.  He felt as though he were burning from the inside out.  He throbbed for her and his penis beaded with moisture.

He rubbed against her, nearly dying when her softness enveloped him.  He needed her naked.  Ending the kiss, he pulled her chemise over her head until she stood before him wearing only her bloomers.  Since that wasn't nearly good enough, he helped her step out of those.  It was tempting to leave her in her stockings as she was a picture standing there wearing only those, but he knew he wanted to feel every inch of her.  Nothing would do but to have her completely naked, all for him.

Now, finally naked, he waited no more.  Swooping down, he claimed a breast with his mouth.

Jillian gasped.  The feel of his wet mouth on her flesh hit her like lightning.  Her body jolted.  His hands clamped on her, held her as his tongue laved her breast.  She grasped his head, held on lest she melt right then and there.

His mouth was everywhere.  It opened over her throat, licked its way to her ear.  It feasted on her own until every part of her trembled, yearned.  A burning heat rose within her and the room was suddenly too hot, the air too thick to breathe.

His thumbs brushed her nipples, one then the other until they hardened into over-sensitized peaks.  When she didn't think she could take the assault of sensations, he dipped his head, enfolded the hard nub in the heat of his mouth and fondled it with his tongue.

Her back arched.  Someone moaned.

"Wade," she pleaded because her legs were turning to water and she couldn't stand.

He scooped her up, placed her on the bed and followed her down.  Soft breasts met hard planes.  His chest hair tickled her, teased her nipples and kept them hard.  It was glorious.  But it didn't do anything to lessen the need building lower.  She was damp and achy, restless.  Like a cat, she moved against him.

Wade couldn't remember ever being this hard, this desperate.  He knew he should wait, should draw out her passion, but Jillian was making it impossible.  When she ground against him, the last of his control snapped.

He captured her mouth, slipped a hand between them and claimed a breast.  Her answering groan drove him, increased his pace.  He took the kiss deeper, ravishing her mouth while his hand stroked her.

She was more than pretty; she was stunning.  Long auburn hair fanned the pillow, her full, aroused breasts showed the marks of his stubble on her sensitive skin.  His pride relished the thought that he'd left his mark, even temporarily, on her.  He looked lower and his loins thickened.

He shucked the rest of his clothes and finally, finally, they were both naked.

Jillian knew what mating was, knew what it entailed physically.  But she'd never realized just how much the heart became involved.  It was special being this way with a man.  Her skin hummed as his hands moved over her body but it was more, so much more than that.  The kisses he left on her temple, the whispers he spoke in her ear.  The heat, the power of his body as he positioned himself over her, the way his heart beat against hers.  It was all embracing, all part of a beautiful whole.