Lone Star Lover (15 page)

Her lips twitched, and she focused her attention on his side. “The bruises will last awhile.”

“Yep.”

With a cheeky glint in her eyes, she met his gaze. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“Over here a little bit.” He rubbed the side of his upper thigh, thankful he’d rebounded. She’d caught him off guard with her return volley. “Better have a look.”

“Yes.” She moistened her lips, and then showed some hesitation as she moved her hands to the waistband of his jeans.

“Here.” He quickly unsnapped and unzipped, not wanting to lose their momentum.

Her fascinated gaze watched as he drew his jeans down his hips. He was forced to stop.

His boots. Damn.

It hurt to bend over so he sat at the edge of the bed. It still hurt like hell.

Rebecca dropped to the floor and knelt before him. She tugged up each hem until she got to the tops of his boots and then pulled off one, and then the other. Her dress had slid off her shoulder as it often did. He understood now why her clothes all seemed too big for her. They were borrowed, probably from Trixie, who was closest to Rebecca’s size.

Her gaping neckline provided a hell of a view from where he sat, and certainly didn’t help his aroused condition. She had small perfect breasts, crowned by dusky rose nipples that stood out like two plump cherries.

She glanced up suddenly, and there was no way he could deny he’d been blatantly looking down her dress. Blinking, she sat back on her heels and stared uncertainly at him.

“You’re beautiful, Rebecca,” was all he was inspired to say.

Her chest rose and fell with a deep shuddering breath. “I’m—” She shook her head. “I have scars,” she whispered.

His memory flicked to the one he’d seen on her wrist the day she’d dressed his wounds. “Let me see them.”

She shrunk back, folding her arms across her chest. “Can we put out the lantern?”

“Later. If you still want to.” He caught her hand and drew her closer, so that she was back up on her knees. “But I have a couple of scars I want to show you first.”

Her brows drew together in suspicion, but her gaze dutifully followed his hands as he gingerly pushed the bulky denim down to his thighs. She must’ve noticed the effort it took him, what with his ribs starting to ache, and she finished the job for him.

She shoved the jeans aside, and then stared at his dark brown boxers. Thank God he’d done laundry last week or they could’ve been the ones with pink hearts he’d been given as a joke last Valentine’s Day.

Tentatively she fingered the finely spun fabric, and then looked up at him in awe. “What is this?”

“Not silk, but something like it,” he said, realizing that she’d never seen anything like boxers before. That didn’t appease him much. Hell, he had a hard-on the size of Oklahoma, and she was more interested in the material? Granted, the way he was sitting, most of his arousal was disguised. But still. “This is what I wanted to show you.” He pulled the elastic waist down enough to expose the thick long scar across his lower hip.

Her eyes widened. “How did that happen?”

“Youth and arrogance. Found out the hard way that being able to climb on the back of a bull doesn’t make you a bullrider.”

He slipped the boxers all the way down, and tossed them on the floor. His thick hard cock sprung up, and he was immensely satisfied to hear her startled gasp. “This one here is from a bullet,” he continued, pointing to the round scar located on his upper thigh. “I’d love to tell you I earned it in the line of duty but the sorry truth is, when I was seventeen, a friend and I were—”

She wasn’t listening, only staring openmouthed at his fully aroused cock. After a moment, she pulled herself out of her preoccupation and looked up at him, her expression dazed.

Jake grinned. “That’s my point, sweetheart,” he said, slipping the dress from her other shoulder, and sliding it down to bare both her sweet round breasts. “I won’t be paying any attention to your scars either.”

She’d never been kissed there before, not like that, and she very much liked it. Closing her eyes, her heart beating faster, her breath quickening, she let her head fall back and savored the different sensations.

“Okay, Rebecca?”

She couldn’t recall the question, but she nodded her agreement. How could she refuse anything Jake asked of her?

“Come here.”

She opened her eyes, and he was smiling at her, his face still smooth from his shave, a thick lock of dark wavy hair falling across his forehead.

He leaned over and took her by the elbows. “Come sit here with me.”

After untangling her skirt from her legs, she let him help her to her feet. But he stopped her from sitting, instead, looping his arms around her middle and bringing her breasts to his mouth. She watched as he touched the tip of his tongue to her nipple, circling it and then drawing the tight bud into his mouth, and suckling her like a hungry child.

She felt her body grow warm all the way down to her toes, and she clutched his shoulders. His hot moist mouth on her skin made crazy things go on in her head, made her grow wet between her thighs. It took her a minute to notice that he was unfastening the row of tiny buttons down the front of Trixie’s dress.

Rebecca tensed. Bird Song had treated the scars on her back and arms with salve, and they weren’t so harsh as they had been five years ago, but would Jake still think her beautiful once he laid eyes on them? Then she thought about Jake’s scars and what he’d said about not noticing them, and she almost burst out laughing.

“These buttons are a challenge for my big clumsy fingers,” he said, frustration in his face as he looked up at her. “Help me.”

She heard a man’s voice just outside the door, and abruptly turned her head, worried someone was about to barge in. Then she heard Lola’s throaty laughter, and then their voices fading toward her room at the end of the balcony.

“We didn’t lock the door.” Jake kissed her briefly and then got up to make sure the door was bolted.

Even his back and buttocks were nicely muscled, and she found herself plucking feverishly at the buttons securing her cuffs. By the time he’d returned to help her, she secretly acknowledged he was right. She hadn’t noticed either of his scars. Her problem was trying not to stare at his manhood, so long and thick, the crown already glistening with moisture.

He was right about his fingers, too. They were big and clumsy and the more he fumbled with the tiny buttons, the harder it was for her not to laugh.

“I have never seen so damn many buttons on one piece of clothing,” he grumbled. “Good grief. Just when I think I’ve gotten to the last one…”

“Yes, I much prefer a deerskin dress.” The words were out of her mouth before she could call them back. Sorry she’d served him a reminder, she bit down hard on her lip, waiting for his reaction. He’d been kind so far, but he wouldn’t want her past rubbed in his face.

Jake smiled. “I’d kind of like to see you in one of those.”

“Truly?” A tight little lump rose in her throat.

“Sure.” He teased her nipple with his thumb and forefinger, and she arched her back, warming with his touch. “Plus, with a deerskin dress, I could get you naked quicker.” He put his mouth where his fingers had been, and rolled his tongue over the tight nub.

She felt the last button loosen, unaware of how he’d accomplished the feat. The dress slipped down to her hips, and then he slid it past her thighs to the floor, until all she wore was hastily sewn beige muslin pantalets. He loosened the drawstring waist, and then they too were gone.

Jake leaned back to look at her, his eyes hooded, his nostrils flaring slightly. Then his gaze drew to her right wrist where the scar from the tough buffalo hide bindings hadn’t faded as well as on her other wrist. He picked up her hand and gently pressed a kiss to the ruined flesh. “I’m sorry you suffered,” he murmured against her skin. “I wish I could take it all away, erase the horror.”

“The braves tied me to the horse when they first caught me. I made it worse by struggling,” she said, self-consciously touching her wrist, refusing to ruin this moment by thinking about that horrible night.

He kissed the spot again, and then picked up her other wrist and kissed that scar, as well. “I feel so damn helpless. And angry. And—”

“No,” she whispered, pulling her hand out of his grasp and placing a finger to his lips. “No. It’s done.”

His eyes darkened to the color of midnight. “You’re right.”

He made sure the bed was clear, the lumps smoothed away and then he laid her back with such gentleness she shivered in his arms. He asked if she were cold, and only then did she notice the chill in the air, but she shook her head because with his warm body pressed to hers she felt nothing but the strong beat of his heart against her breast, and the heat of his arousal heavy on her belly.

He moved to lie beside her, cupping her breast, laved it gently and then flattened his palm over her belly. She stayed still, enjoying his touch, waiting for him to move his hand lower, but mostly she wanted very much to touch him. Would he object? Would he welcome her advance?

“You’re tense,” he whispered. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, I just—” She couldn’t say it.

The pressure of his hand eased. “Tell me, Rebecca.”

“I want to touch you, too,” she said softly, feeling the heat of embarrassment surge up her chest and into her face.

“Ah, good.” He rolled onto his back. “I’m all yours. Any way you want.”

She heard the amusement in his voice and tried to ignore it. The only man she’d ever been with was her husband, and he’d always been quick to get the job finished. At first, she’d been grateful. Later, as acceptance grew, so had her curiosity.

Cautiously she splayed her fingers across Jake’s chest, and stared down at his hard shaft. She wanted to touch him there, find out if it was as hard as it looked. Swallowing, she slid a peek at his face, and found him watching her. “Don’t do that.”

One side of his mouth went up. “What?”

“I can’t do anything if you watch.”

“Okay, I won’t.” His shoulders came off the mattress, and he latched his lips onto her nipple.

She jerked in surprise, saw his smile, and her heart fluttered. He was a most baffling man. She stared down again at his manhood, moist and pulsing. With her finger, she lightly touched the tip. It leaped at her, and she quickly withdrew her hand.

Jake moaned. “Don’t stop there.”

She smiled, and traced a blue vein down to the base. His manhood again leaped at her touch. This time she didn’t pull away. She wrapped her fingers around him, amazed at the amount of heat coming from his shaft. His mouth moved from her breast, and he lay back down, his eyes closed. She tentatively slid her hand up and then back down, something she had seen Sleeping Fox do to himself by the river one summer day.

When Jake moved his hips to match the rhythm of her hand, she knew she was doing it right. But then she might have squeezed too hard because he abruptly stilled her hand.

She swallowed back a lump of fear. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “No way.” He gave a shaky laugh and raised himself on one elbow.

She didn’t believe that she hadn’t hurt him because she saw pain skip across his face as he shifted. Sweat had popped out on his forehead. How could she have been so rough and careless?

His eyebrows drew together in a stern frown. “You didn’t hurt me. I swear. I did it to myself just now when I tried to get up. But it’s no big deal.”

Rebecca moistened her lips. He had the strangest way of speaking sometimes. She saw her dress on the floor and reached for it. “You’re still healing. We shouldn’t have tried to—”

“No, you don’t.” He grabbed the dress from her, and tossed it toward the wall. Before she knew what had happened, he slid his hand between her thighs, his fingers skimming the nest of curls there. “It just means that I might be more comfortable with you on top.”

She fell back on the mattress, trying to puzzle out what he was saying, when all she could do was focus on where his hand was headed. “I don’t understand.”

His fingers dove deeper, breaching the lips that hid her secret woman’s place. Gasping, she brought her knees up and clenched her muscles, but that only made him groan as he pushed further, entering the narrow passage with his fingers.

“Rebecca. You’re so wet.”

She wanted to cover her ears. Why would he want to embarrass her so? But the look on his face told her he wasn’t trying to do any such thing. She’d somehow pleased him. Startled, she eased her legs apart, just a little, so that her thighs weren’t clamped so tightly over his hand. He withdrew a bit, and then plunged into her again.

Almost against her will, she slammed her thighs together, trapping his hand.

“Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart?” he asked. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No. Yes.” She couldn’t think straight. Her breathing had run off course.

“Relax. Okay?” He shook his hand, as if asking her to loosen her grip. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know.” She sank back, only then realizing that in her excitement, she’d pushed herself up. Against every instinct she possessed, she allowed her thighs to part for him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, brushing his lips over her ear. He kissed the sensitive area below her lobe, and then trailed his tongue along her jawline and nipped her chin.

In the next second, his mouth covered hers. He pushed his tongue past the seam of her lips and swept the inside of her cheek, the roof of her mouth and mated with her tongue. Her insides quivered with longing, quaked with a need for something she couldn’t name. When he abandoned her mouth, and kissed a path to her breasts, she boldly fisted his hair and drew him closer, arching her back when he lightly bit her nipple.

“Sit on top of me,” he said raggedly, inserting his fingers deeper into her slick wetness.

He rubbed something, down there, that made her jerk.

“Can you do that?” he asked, touching her again, and sending a ripple of pleasure through her body.

She struggled to recall what they were talking about, getting frustrated when he suddenly withdrew his hand.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. I want you to sit on top of me.”

She blinked blearily at him, unable to move or think beyond the moment. Then he grasped her hips and urged her to lift herself off the mattress. She followed his lead, waiting until he positioned himself in the center of the bed, tensing when he encouraged her to swing one leg over his body. She felt horribly exposed, nothing guarding her womanhood but a triangle of blond hair.

Her only solace was that he kept his gaze upward, roaming her face, her breasts. And then he looked there. Instinctively she used her hands to cover herself.

Jake smiled gently, and kneaded her breasts, shifting his attention to her achingly rigid nipples. She glanced down at his manhood, swollen and hard, straining toward her. She couldn’t help herself, she had to touch him again. Lightly at first, and then she slid the palm of her hand down the side of his shaft, spreading the moisture that had beaded on the tip.

He moaned slightly. “That feels good,” he said, reaching behind and squeezing her buttocks. “See? That’s all I want to do. Touch you and look at you, just like you’re doing to me.”

Her unfairness to him struck her. He’d readily exposed himself to her. This was Jake, she reminded herself. He didn’t want to hurt her. In just a matter of minutes, he’d made her feel better than she’d ever felt in her life. Yet she’d been married, been bedded many, many times in the beginning. After the first year, the shock had worn off and she’d acknowledged that Running Bear was her protector and that by Comanche standards, he’d treated her kindly so she hadn’t even minded. So why was this different? Why hadn’t Running Bear made her body thrum to life like this?

“Rebecca?”

She moved her hand, nervously sucking in a breath, getting used to the idea that he could see almost everything. What was still hidden from him, he quickly remedied. Her heart nearly stopped when he reached between her legs and spread her nether lips. She almost jumped off him, but was suddenly distracted by the wild leap of his manhood. And then he found that spot again, that sensitive little nub, and she closed her eyes and strained against his thumb.

He rubbed slowly, and then quickened the motion until she thought her skin would burst from her body. A startled cry crawled up her throat. She had no idea what was happening. A heated flush gushed from the pit of her belly up to her chest as if she’d gotten too close to the fire. She jerked once, twice, uncontrollably, and bent over to clutch his shoulders.

With gentle force, he pushed her back upright with his free hand kneading her breast. “That’s it.”

She whimpered when another spasm hit. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

Surprise registered in his eyes, and then he smiled. “Trust me.”

Trust him? She couldn’t think right now. She could only…

The contractions came faster, the sensation between her thighs almost unbearable, the fever raging through her body terrifyingly unfamiliar. She tried to shove him away, but then went limp, suddenly lost in the pleasure of it all. When Jake started to withdraw his hand, she shamelessly pulled him back.