Dangerous (15 page)

And as for Jesse James being his half-brother, they couldn’t be more different. Or so it seemed, but then could she really know the truth about his brother? Was he beyond a doubt a cold-blooded killer or a man whose reputation had been built on lies and half-truths?

Wind whipped up trail dirt, slinging dust at her face. She ducked her head, trying to keep as much out of her eyes as possible. Clouds were beginning to form, and it looked like they were going to have to endure yet another downpour. All day the air felt like it was dripping with steamy water. The wind seemed to hiss with heat from the sun.

“Nothing like springtime in Texas,” she said, clearing the dust from her face.

“Feels like it could storm,” Beau said.

The tension between them was a result of sleeping side-by-side last night and waking with his arms wrapped around her. The sensation was wonderful and frightening and aroused thoughts of what could happen between the two of them.

Behind them, in the west, she noticed the clouds were building, turning dark. The thought of riding out a thunderstorm with no shelter frightened her. She looked around the wooded area and saw no place to hide. The land had flattened out, and while trees and brush were plentiful, there was no place to get out of the weather.

“I think I’m missing that cave right about now.”

Beau glanced at the skies behind them and frowned. “That’s not good. That one cloud is low and heavy looking. Keep an eye out for a farm. We might need to hole up until after this storm passes.”

“And if we don’t find a farm?”

“Then we’ll be getting wet,” he said.

A resounding boom rattled the air around them, and she noticed the birds were no longer chirping. In fact, they were no longer flying and seemed to have disappeared.

The wind died down, and suddenly, the air felt still and oppressive. Almost crackly with energy.

“We need to locate a shelter,” Beau said, glancing around at the sky again.

The clouds were traveling faster than they were, and Beau picked up speed. Even the horses seemed to suddenly understand a storm was coming and were anxious to get out of the weather’s path.

Lightning crackled behind them, and the sky was changing colors, turning a sick green.

“Those clouds look like they could contain some hail,” she said worriedly.

“Yeah, come on, let’s push the horses. We need to find shelter, or we’re going to get pummeled,” he said.

They started to gallop across the fields, rushing to some unknown destination, hoping they could find a place to get out of the weather.

“There,” Beau said and pointed to a building in the distance.

Just then the wind slammed into them, and her horse whinnied in alarm. “Come on,” she said as the wind threw dirt, swirling and pulling at them from all directions.

She glanced behind her, and her heart leaped into her throat, causing her to choke on the fear that bubbled up. A funnel cloud dipped down from the sky toward the earth.

“Beau,” she screamed.

He glanced behind at her, his eyes growing large. “Come on.”

They spurred their horses, running them at a full gallop, pushing as fast as they could toward the farmhouse. What couldn’t have been a quarter mile away seemed to take forever. Racing across the prairie, her heart pounded with fear, her ears popped as the wind howled.

Once they reached the abandoned house, Beau flung himself off his horse and slapped it on the rump. It took off running. When Annabelle reached the house, he helped her alight and then sent her horse running.

“But our horses,” she cried over the noise of the wind.

“They’ll take care of themselves,” he said.

The funnel was now dancing on the ground, churning and eating as it spun across the earth, racing toward them.  Its tail swept across the prairie, like Mother Nature’s broom, gobbling up everything the horrific winds touched.

Beau grabbed her by the hand and pulled her toward the back of the house. “Come on, let’s hope they built a root cellar before they left.”

They ran between the barn and the house. The tin roof groaned, struggling against the pull of the wind. Just when she thought they would have to take shelter in the house, Beau located the root cellar.

He opened the door and shoved her inside. He flung himself into the darkened underground cellar and pulled the door closed, latching it against the wind with a wooden two by four they could only hope would hold. Quickly, he lit a lantern and hung it from a hook, illuminating an old bed in the corner of the shelter

The noise grew louder and louder like the sound of a thousand trains roaring overhead and the ground beneath them trembled.

“Beau,” she screamed, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest.

They were going to die. The wind was going to suck them up into the funnel. Her entire body shook, her heart pounding inside her chest like she was running for her life.

“It’s okay,” he said and squeezed her against his chest, as the earth around them shuddered and a fine mist of dirt showered over them. The door on the cellar shook and rattled, and they stepped as far back into the cellar as they could go.

“It’s going to break,” she screamed. They were going to die down here in this cellar, where no one would ever know they were. Their bodies would never be found, and she would never see her sisters again. She wanted with all her heart to go back to that day in the bank and return home to the place she loved.

“No, sugar, it’s okay.” His hands soothed her, as he gently pushed her hair away from her face.

The noise increased, and he held onto her tightly, his mouth covered hers, his lips silencing the scream that had been ready to explode from her. He placed his hands over her ears, as he held her head in place and ravished her mouth with his lips.

Tense, she held onto his shoulders, gripping him like she never wanted to let him go. Fearful the wind would suck them out of their hiding place, she knew she would cling to him as long as she could before they were torn apart.

If she was going to die, she wanted Beau holding her when they went.

Terrified, she felt them falling. They landed on the soft bed as the sound of the wind lessened. Pulling her mouth away from his, she asked, “Is it over?”

“I think so,” he said, his breathing harsh.

“I was so scared,” she said, her heart beating rapidly inside her chest, her limbs quaking.

“Me too,” he replied, holding onto her like she was his lifeline in a sinking ship. His lips moved over hers again, and he kissed her like it was their last as his mouth ravaged hers. She met his fervor and gripped his body close to hers.

She needed him. For the last four days, she’d depended on him, she’d aided him, and she’d fought him, but right this moment, she required him like her next breath.

For the last four days, they’d lived on the edge, running from the Harris gang, tornadoes, and this incessant need for each other. No more. She wanted him and she wanted him now.

If she was going to die on this journey, she wanted Beau before she took her last breath.

She pushed open his shirt, wanting to touch his skin, to feel his chest. Pushing the cloth out of the way, she ran her hands over the feel of his hard chest muscles. His flesh rippled beneath her touch while his lips continued their assault on her. Her breathing was labored, and an ache began between her legs.

Their lips broke apart. “God, I want you so much,” he said, his hands caressing her head. “But we can’t.”

She pushed him to his back and rolled on top of him. “We’re alive.”

“Yes,” he said breathlessly, wrapping his arms around her. “Annabelle.”

“Stop talking and show me what it feels like to make love.”

Pulling out of his arms, she rose up and unbuttoned her dress, yanked it over her head while sitting on his body. Her heart pounded, rushing blood through her veins, and she knew she was taking a risk, but she didn’t care. She was alive, she was breathing, and tomorrow this could all come to an end.

“Every day spent with you could be my last,” she whispered.

Rain and hail pounded on the roof of the root cellar as she stared into his emerald eyes, glassy, shining with a fire that drew her to his flame. A shudder rippled through her at the knowledge of the chances she was taking, knowing she could die at any moment and willing to accept whatever risks their joining brought.

Frantically, before she could change her mind, she pulled his shirt out of his pants. While he undid the buttons, she tugged the garment from his body. When the shirt was removed, he reached up and grabbed her head, bringing her lips to his again.

His lips conveyed a message of desire and longing and oh, sweet Jesus, want. She opened her mouth greedily, accepting his unspoken acknowledgment of passion. Her blood was flowing through her veins faster than when the tornado was spinning on top of them.

Their lips broke apart and he placed his mouth on her neck as he nibbled softly to the curve of her shoulder. “Are you sure?”

“Shut up and love me,” she whispered in the glow of the lantern. Frightened and thankful to be alive, she knew for certain that at this moment, she needed Beau.

Lifting her chemise, he tugged the garment over her head, exposing her breasts.

“Oh, God,” he said as he lowered his mouth to her puckered nipple, tenderly sucking the tiny bud.

A burst of fire flooded her and she gasped, throwing her head back, arching her chest toward his mouth. The sensation flooded her with desire for this man, an outlaw with a despicable reputation and a gentle, kind soul.

His hand gripped her breast as his tongue lavished her nub, filling her with a sweet ache that seemed to radiate all the way to her toes. Then he flipped her onto her back. Rising from the bed, he quickly shucked his pants and boots.

When he stood, even in the gloom, she could see him in all his naked glory. His manhood jutted out from his body like a weapon looking for a shield.

“So that’s what a naked man looks like,” she said softly.

He laughed then reached down and untied her boots. They fell to the ground with a clunk as he slid her stockings down her legs. His fingers reached for her pantaloons, and she lifted her hips to help him remove the garment.

Lying naked before his eyes for a moment, she doubted her decision. His gaze traveled over her breasts, her hips and then back.

“You’re beautiful just like I imagined.”

She was giving herself to an outlaw, a man with a tortured past, a man with no future. Yet, she couldn’t deny she wanted him worse than she wanted her next breath. She needed Beau, if only for this moment.

He crawled up on the mattress beside her, until they lay side by side, their naked skin touching. His lips covered hers once again, and the heat that had been simmering burst inside of her like an explosion of fire, sizzling her from her head to her toes.

Annabelle ached to touch him, to slid her fingertips along his skin. She reached out and trailed her fingers down his face, to his chest, feeling the hardened muscles rippling beneath her strokes. Emboldened she skimmed her fingers all the way down his waist to his shaft.

His hand wrapped her fingers around his cock, and he moved her hand up and down. She gripped his erection, touching the tip, feeling the bulbous head on the end of his shaft.

She’d never seen a man’s penis before, let alone touched one. For a moment she was in awe of the power and the strength in his erection.

At the touch of his fingers between her legs, she gasped with the zing radiating from her center. She moaned as his fingers caressed her intimately, touching her like she’d never been touched, creating a need she’d never experienced before. He stroked her until she was wet with want and filled with a raging desire that had her arching against his hand.

His lips covered hers, raking the inside of her mouth with his tongue, teasing and dancing, retreating and withdrawing, while he shifted his body over the top of hers.

She knew what came next, had dreamed of being with the right man. But this man was only the right man for the moment, and she didn’t know if she would live to see tomorrow. She needed Beau, and she needed him now.

He guided his penis to her entrance and then surged ahead, powerful and yet tender—and met a wall of resistance.

“You’re a virgin?” he said between clenched teeth.

“Just do it,” she said, not caring that he had questioned her virginity.

Beau pushed forward, she felt the barrier give way, she cried out as pain replaced pleasure.

He paused for a moment. “Just breathe. It’ll soon pass.”

She reached up, needing him to continue, wanting this man to finish what he’d started. She pulled his mouth to hers, and then she moved her hips.

He groaned as he moved within her. He drove himself into her body, and she welcomed each thrust. Heat spiraled through her, building each time he plunged into her with an intensity she’d never experienced.

“Beau,” she moaned. “What’s happening?”

His face was tense and full of pleasure, his emerald eyes boring into hers, lifting her and carrying her with him. “Annabelle.”

Outside, thunder rumbled and rain pounded on the earthen roof, and inside, she felt like a storm was building to a crest. She met his thrusts with equal force, each stroke spiraling desire higher and higher in her, pushing her toward some unknown crest.

Then she was falling, tumbling over the peak and plummeting, falling as her body tensed and shudders shook her deep to her core. Beau’s mouth locked on hers as he held onto her, thrusting into her one more time as his body tensed around her.

He released her mouth and slumped down over her. “Oh, God.”

She lay there panting, her body slowly recovering, amazed at what had just happened.

Rain softly hit the roof, and he rolled off her body, still holding her close. His breathing slowed, his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”

For a moment, she tensed. Did they have to have this discussion now? “Why did you think I wasn’t a virgin?”

He laughed, rose up on an elbow, and gazed at her, his emerald eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Because most women aren’t bounty hunters. They don’t follow strange men out of town, and they most definitely do not allow men to cuddle with them in their blankets.”