Between Strangers (10 page)

“Now, honey,” he said softly. “Now.”

The shattering quakes of climax hit her without warning. Her arms and legs trembled and she saw herself cry out when the flood of warmth careened over her. She tried to keep her eyes open but shooting stars blinded her to everything but the pulsing sizzle of sensations.

Her blood was still boiling in her veins as he urged her to lean over the counter. Close behind her, he used a hand on her inner thigh, stroking and rubbing until she involuntarily widened her stance.

She felt his hard arousal nudge and probe the opening to her depths. “Yes,” she moaned. “Now, Lance.”

Her urgent pleading seemed to stir him as he pushed the tip of his sex against her throbbing core. He grabbed her hips and, bending over her back, placed wet branding kisses on her shoulders.

The heat moved down from where he kissed and landed in her belly. When he bit into her neck, holding her in place with his mouth, she felt herself heading for the edge again. “Please,” she said in a voice she didn't recognize.

With a powerful lunge, he plunged into her on one
long silky glide. He growled, low and deep in his chest.

Lance was beyond thinking, beyond demand and past civilization. Sweat ran down his temple, over his shoulders and down his spine with the formidable effort it had taken to watch her come apart in the mirror.

When she groaned, writhed against his groin and sobbed his name, all was lost in a savage momentum. He was gloved tightly inside her fire and could feel her internal muscles gripping and stroking his sex. Her body was pulling him to completion.

They were both groaning, making feral animal sounds, as he held her steady with his mouth on her shoulder and his palm tightly against her mound. The next thrust went deeper. Marcy cursed and pushed her hips against him again.

His hips slammed against her bottom as thrust after thrust drove them both frantically nearer a peak. Her tight muscles clenched and sucked at him with every movement.

He could feel himself nearing the end, so he slid his hand down to where they were joined and stroked her nub with a jerking movement. Marcy stilled, gasped, then shattered as the bubbling culmination swamped her.

The vibrations beat against him as she shook and cried. That was all it took to push him over the highest cliff. With one last thrust, his own crest overtook then claimed him with shooting sparks and a lava flow of incandescent warmth.

It took him a long time to come to his senses. His knees were weak and the quakes were still echoing
through them both. He gently pulled away from her and turned her into his arms.

“Are you all right?” he murmured and kissed her temple.

Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she kissed him back. “Oh, yes,” she whispered against his lips. “I'm better than all right. I'm the best.”

“Yes, you are,” he grinned. “And that time there were two.”

“Two?”

“Yep. Wanna go for three?”

“You…you're counting,” she groaned as the pink flame rose over her chest and up her neck.

“I said I wished you hadn't told me.”

“Lance, this is not a competition.”

He laughed, really laughed, for what might've been the first time in his life and pulled her close. “No, maybe not, but you are such a joy to tease.” Placing a tender kiss on her shoulder, he whispered against her skin. “I love to watch your skin flame from my words…and my touch. I love to see how your eyes glaze over when you're about to reach the heights. And I can't stop wanting you, all the time.”

Moaning, she lowered her forehead to his shoulder. He bent to nibble on her neck when he spotted a mark on her skin that shook him. “Hell.”

She drew back and gazed at him with a question in her eyes. Kicking himself six ways from Sunday, he scooped her up and took both of them into the tub.

“I left a mark on you,” he muttered under his breath as he turned on the tap and regulated the water's temperature. “A bite mark. Dammit.”

“But…” She reached up and ran her hand over the spot on her neck. “You didn't break the skin. It's fine.”

He turned on the shower and let her slide down his body so she could stand under the spray. But he kept a hand around her waist, needing the connection.

Marcy gasped when the water sluiced down over her head. She giggled and rotated in Lance's embrace, turning her back to the water and her front to his chest.

“We were wild, weren't we?” she asked dreamily.

Lance scowled and narrowed his eyes while he inspected her neck and soaped up his hands. “I can't believe I bruised you. I must've lost my mind.”

“I think we both lost our minds.” She raised a hand and touched the many fingernail scratches across his shoulders. “But it's the way I wanted it, Lance. I wouldn't have let you do anything that didn't feel good.”

He ran his soapy hand lightly over her shoulders and up her neck. Then putting a finger under her chin, he raised her face and gently touched her lips with his own.

“That's all I want,” he murmured as his other hand slid soap over her breasts. “I don't ever want to hurt you, honey. I just want to make you feel good. Special. The same way you do for me.”

A reply stuck in her throat. With a strangled gurgle she rubbed her soapy, sensitive breasts against his chest and breathed in the wicked scents of lavender soap and masculine desire.

The need rose in them both once more. Her blood
heated as the hot shower spray beat down on their bodies and steam rose up to envelop them in a sensual fog.

His hands touched her everywhere. Fondling, massaging, kneading her into a frenzy.

She tried to climb right inside him and wrapped her legs around his waist. Pressing her back against the cool tile, he entered her in one swift movement. The liquid fire raced along her skin as she trembled and tightened around him.

She shuddered while her climax pulsed through them both. He kissed her desperately and drove deeper, intensifying the pleasure.

Higher they climbed, fast and furious with exquisite jolts pushing them onward. Once more, then once again, the rolls of fulfillment crashed through her until at last Lance shuddered and followed.

She tried to remember how to breathe as she sagged against him. He slowly lowered her until her feet touched the tub floor. Then he turned off the water and bundled them both in huge towels. Groggy and shaken, she let Lance carry her back to the blankets in front of the fire and settle them both down for the night.

 

A baby's high-pitched squeal woke her from a sensual dream. Rolling over, she reached for Lance, but her hand touched nothing except blankets.

She'd awakened several times during the night with the sensation of his hot mouth covering her breast. She'd never felt so sensual, so needed. They turned
to each other over and over, seeking warmth and finding the sizzle of breathtaking desire.

Blinking open her eyes, she found the flames roaring in the fireplace above her. He must've stoked the fire when he'd gotten up. But where was he now?

She decided she'd better get up herself and see about Angie. As Marcy stirred, delicious aches throbbed in muscles and places that were long forgotten. Smiling to herself at the memories of how she'd come by those aches, she stood and pulled a blanket around her shoulders.

When she looked down at the sofa, expecting to find a tangle of their discarded clothes from last night, she saw instead a soft pink chenille robe folded neatly with a note on the top. The note was from Lance.

It said, “I'm not positive this will fit, but the color is the same color your skin becomes when you blush. Try it on and come join the party. Merry Christmas, honey.”

M
arcy shrugged into the soft robe and sighed with pleasure. Burying her nose in the baby-pink material at her shoulder, she took a whiff and knew immediately that this was not a hand-me-down. She'd never owned anything this nice that was also brand-new.

Another high-pitched squeal, one she recognized as Angie's, caught her attention and drew her toward the kitchen. When she stepped closer, the sight that greeted her made her stop and shake her head.

Lance stood with his back to her at the stove, jiggling a giggling Angie with one hand and stirring something in a pot with the other. It was a picture Marcy had never thought she'd see. A man caring for and about her child.

What a special person he was. She was sure she'd never met anyone like him. Finding herself fighting
off the welling tears, Marcy forced her legs to carry her to his side as she swallowed hard and cleared her throat.

“Good morning, you two,” she said in a ragged voice.

He turned and grinned. “Ah. Good morning, sleepyhead.” Dropping the spoon on the counter, he beckoned her to come close with his free hand.

His ebony eyes were dancing with good humor, but behind the smile she caught a hint of burning passion still lingering in his gaze. He had on a T-shirt and jeans that were riding low on his hips. Her heart began beating in a staccato rhythm. From a foot away she could feel the heated vibrations coming from his athletic body and racing across her nerves.

She stepped into his embrace and got carried away in jumbled sensations. The scent of man and morning-after passion hit her as he pulled her close. She turned her face into his chest and let him hug her tight. The images of what they'd done together left her feeling sexy and desired.

But other sensations were bombarding her with different images and needs at the same time. Angie was babbling away, as happy and content with him as she would be with her mother. And that was such a foreign feeling, it was making Marcy's knees weak with a longing she could barely name.

“I see you found your Christmas present,” he said while he placed a tender kiss on the top of her head. “It's a little big, but it looks great on you, just like I'd hoped.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the overwhelm
ing emotions and gather her wits in order to speak. “Oh, Lance, I can't thank you enough. It's beautiful. I love it,” she managed at last. “But where…how…”

He released her and turned back to the pot on the stove. “It was no big deal. A clothing sales rep was stuck with us at the truck stop. I talked him out of a sample, that's all.”

“You bought me a present way back at the truck stop?”

“When I saw the color of that robe, I just knew it would be perfect for you,” he mumbled. “Plus, I figured you probably didn't have one as warm as that and you might need it on your travels.”

That did it. Marcy had to move away from him while she sniffled and choked back the tears. No one had ever done anything so nice for her.

“The oatmeal is ready,” Lance said from behind her. “Can you put Angie in the high chair while I dish it up?”

Shaking her shoulders to push away the strong emotions rolling through her chest, she took a breath and pulled Angie out of his arm. But when she grasped the baby and took a step, Angie squealed and reached back for Lance.

“I think you've got yourself another fan,” Marcy told him with more cheer than she was feeling.

Lance smiled as he carried two bowls to the kitchen table. “Oh, Angie and I have become good buddies.”

She settled Angie and sat down. “You dressed her in the red Christmas dress…and changed her…and…” Words failed Marcy once more.

He shrugged and handed the baby her sippy cup. “We're having a Christmas morning party. I figured she would want to look her best.” Sitting down at the table next to Marcy, he bent to kiss her cheek. “Sorry about the oatmeal, but there isn't much else in the cupboard. I did try to dress it up, though. I added cinnamon and a few walnuts I found in Vicki's pantry.”

“It's fine, Lance. Wonderful, thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He reached out and ran a finger gently along her jawline and down her neck while he captured her gaze with his passion-filled eyes. “And thank you for giving me a night…that I'll never forget.”

She gulped and wondered how on earth she would ever make it through any kind of food without choking on the sobs working their way up her throat. The man was too much. He'd rescued them from the side of the road, missed his party at home to get them safely through the storm and now was jumping through hoops to make it a merry Christmas.

Besides all that, he'd opened her up to a whole new sensual side of herself that she'd completely missed in her life up to now. And he was thanking
her
for the most spectacular night of her life?

He ate a couple of spoonfuls of the oatmeal, then tilted his head to watch Angie. “I fed her a jar of that baby-food stuff before you got up. But she still looks hungry.”

Marcy looked at the baby and saw the same warm need for the man in her child's eyes that she was experiencing—at least in
one
respect. “Angie's just
feeling left out,” she told him. “We're eating and she has to watch.”

“Ah.” Lance stood up and went to the counter. “Then maybe this will help.”

He picked up a tissue-covered item that Marcy hadn't noticed before and handed it to Angie. “Here, baby girl,” he crooned. “Merry Christmas.”

Angie's eyes got big and round as she stared at whatever was taking up the entire tray of her high chair. Then she looked to her mother for help.

“Angie doesn't know what a present is,” Marcy chuckled. “Maybe I'd better help her with the wrapping.”

Lance's heart thumped loudly in his chest while he stood watching Angie's face as her mother unwrapped the baby doll he'd bought. The pretty little doll had blond hair and big blue eyes, just like the real baby. The minute he'd seen it in the truck stop store, he had to get it for Angie.

“Oh, Lance.” Marcy uncovered the doll and handed it over to her daughter's waiting arms. “Angie's never had a doll before. What a thoughtful thing for you to do.”

He shook his head. “I don't know about thoughtful,” he hedged. “I just wanted her to have it.”

Angie stared at the doll for a long time, then pointed a finger at the doll's nose. “Ba!” she squealed.

“Yes, Angie, that's your baby doll.” Marcy's eyes were shining behind her smile.

“Did she say baby? Is she talking?” Lance was surprised and pleased by the look on Angie's face.

“She's trying to talk,” Marcy replied. “Yesterday she said ‘ma.' I think that means mama…me.”

Angie bent her head, placed her lips to the doll's face and made a smacking noise with her mouth.

“Oh, Angie, you kissed the doll,” her mother cooed. “How sweet. We're going to have to give her a name. How about we just call her ‘baby'?”

The enthralled little girl put her arms around the doll and hugged it. “Ba.”

Lance was speechless and needed to move. He picked Angie and doll up in his arms and danced them both around the room.

For the first time in his life, Lance White Eagle Steele felt fragile—as if he were teetering on the sharp edge of a china cup. All he could think was that if one thing ever hurt this innocent child, his anger and the revenge that followed would be boundless.

He knew he would kill to keep anyone from hurting Angie…and that he would die to keep her safe.

Marcy got up and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Well, whatever possessed you to buy Angie her first doll, the baby and I thank you very much.”

When she leaned her breast against his arm and he felt her warm breath brush over his skin, a rush of hot desire shot through his gut and mingled there with the warm, happy feelings he'd been having toward the baby. Man, this was confusing.

He stopped for a second and considered the divergent and entirely new sensations. The lust was nothing new. He'd been lusting after Marcy since almost the first moment he'd spotted her out on that freez
ing, windswept highway. But there was something more here.

Then it occurred to him that this must be what it felt like to have a family. All these sentimental and sensual tingles were exactly what he'd been longing for and wouldn't recognize—the joy of a real home and family of his own.

 

The next couple of hours whizzed by as he and Marcy played with the baby and then together put her down for a nap. The time was going by too fast and he willed it to slow down so he could memorize and cherish everything. He was not going to settle for anything less than this in his life.

“I'm going to build a home just like this on the ranch,” he told Marcy with a sweep of his hand. They were working in the kitchen to clean up and take down the Christmas decorations in preparation for leaving. “This may've been my first Christmas celebration, but it certainly won't be my last.”

Marcy set the candle she'd been wrapping on the counter and placed her hand on his forearm. “Lance. I've been meaning to talk to you about something. Now's as good a time as any. Come sit down a second.” She sounded serious and a little sad, and it hurt him not to be able to fix whatever was the matter.

He followed her to the table and pulled out a chair so she could sit, then he swung one around backward for himself. “I'm all yours for as long as you need. What's up?”

She folded her hands on the table and stared down
at them. “I want to tell you what I know about marriage,” she said without looking up.

Curious but nervous about what she was going to say, he sat down and crossed his arms over the back of the chair so he could lean against it. “Go on.”

“My parents married because I was on the way,” she said softly. “I'm not sure there was ever any love there. But by the time I was old enough to recognize such things, I'm positive there wasn't.

“It was not a happy place, my home. My father spent a lot of time out of town. And when he was home, he drank and then he yelled. It was almost like…well, actually I'm sure, he drank because he was miserable, saddled with a woman and child he didn't love.”

Marcy looked up into his face, and the forlorn look in her eyes nearly doubled him over. “Honey, if this hurts you to talk about it, don't. Don't make yourself so unhappy.”

She smiled sadly and shook her head. “This is important. I want you to listen, please.”

He nodded once and she continued. “When I was eighteen, a stranger came to our town. He was only a traveling salesman, selling books to the school district and the library. But I thought he was the most charming, the most worldly man in the universe.”

Marcy stopped and swallowed. The words seemed to choke her. “He talked to me about all the places he'd been, all the exciting and wonderful spots where he wanted to take me,” she continued at last. “I had only known him for a month when he asked me to marry him and go away to see the world. I didn't love
him, but I was so eager to leave my home…so wrapped up in the idea of traveling…that I agreed.”

“But I thought you had never traveled,” he interrupted. “When we first met, you said you were going to see the world.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “What a big joke that whole marriage turned out to be. Only, the joke was on me. He took me as far as Minneapolis then told me I needed to work and save money so I could travel with him…someday.

“I was surprised, but I agreed. I thought it would be a temporary setback.” Marcy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Everything went downhill from there. But that's a long sad story you don't need to hear. The point I'm trying to make is that marrying someone you don't love…for any reason…is just plain wrong.”

“Marcy…” He didn't know what to say to her, but his heart was aching.

She rolled her shoulders and stood up. “I call it ‘soul loneliness.' It's that emptiness you feel when you're trying to make a life with someone, and the other person doesn't see your spirit or care about your feelings.”

Marcy held her hands out to him, palms up. “Lance, please don't go back to Montana and ask that woman to marry you. I know you want a home and a family. But I'm begging you to wait until you find love and someone who wants to settle down and build that home with you.”

He nearly knocked the chair over in his haste to reach her and wrap her safely in his arms. “Honey,”
he groaned. “You told me that whole story, spilled your guts, just to keep me from making a mistake?”

Nodding her head against his chest, she melted into his embrace.

Never before had he been so amazed. Never before had anyone cared that much about him. Never.

“I…” His voice was so rough he wasn't sure he could make a coherent sentence. But he had to try. “Somewhere over the past few days, I'd already come to the conclusion that Lorna and I don't have a future together. I suppose I picked her because I wanted a family so badly and she was there. But wanting something isn't the same as making it happen…or making it right.”

 

Marcy threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. “Thank heaven,” she sighed. “Promise me you'll wait for the magic.”

“I still don't believe in magic,” he murmured against her ear. “But I believe in this.”

He covered her mouth with his, and the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed from soft and homey to passionate and sensual. Warm turned to hot in an instant.

The kiss deepened, becoming desperate and needy as their tongues tangled and each pleaded for more. Lance covered her breast with his palm, then gently pushed her back slightly to give him access to both nipples. She felt them harden and press against the material of her bra.

Without a word they ripped at each other's clothes, and soon stood together naked and aching. He bent
to take one ready and erect nipple in his mouth and a stab of pleasure went straight to her core.