One Stubborn Cowboy (12 page)

His hot mouth covered the firm nub and took her into a cavern of delight. He suckled against her skin, laving the tip of her nipple with his raspy tongue as waves of shimmering ecstasy coursed through Kelly. His hand moved against the soft satin of her skin, lower as he traced the dip of her navel, pressing against her as she moved her hips.

Kelly's hands pushed at Kit's shirt, releasing the last button as she pulled it from his jeans, her hands moving against his skin, learning his shape, feeling his warmth burn her hotter than the sun.

When he raised his head, she clutched at him. But he only moved to capture the other nipple and give equal treatment.

Kelly was on fire. The waves of pleasure were swamping her and she moved rhythmically seeking fulfillment, completion, satisfaction. Her hands clutched his shoulders as his hand slipped beneath the elastic waist of her shorts, seeking the heat, the dark center of her. She strained against him, pushing the shirt from his shoulders, her hands sliding over his sweat-slicked back.

"Kit." She urged him on, her hands now seeking the waistband of his jeans.

"Shh, easy, sweetheart, easy. I don't have any protection for you. Just enjoy, Kelly. Enjoy," he said against her skin, his tongue flicking against her throbbing breast, his hand finding her center and pressing against the dampness he found.

She was hot and moist and seeking relief. Slowly, slowly he moved his hand, feeling the heat, aching to possess her, to come to completion himself. But he couldn't. Damn, he'd never expected to come this far, not once during the past two years. She was driving him crazy with wanting, yet he couldn't have her.

His tongue thrust in and out to match the tempo of his hand, to match the tempo of her undulating hips. His voice, low, hoarse, ragged, urged her toward the summit of her satisfaction. He felt her straining against him. Her breasts brushed his chest and he lay halfway across her, the soft mounds crying for his attention, but he couldn't leave her sweet mouth.

Her hands gripped his shoulders and he raised his head, looking at her, watching her spiral toward ecstasy.

Her eyes flew open just as he felt her tighten convulsively. Pulsating, throbbing, she raised her hips, her eyes wide and glazed.

"Come on, honey. Let go."

"Kit. Kit. Kit!" She chanted his name over and over and over as waves of rapture rippled through her. Her hands clenched against him, pulling him closer, wanting all of him.

God, he
hurt!
He wanted to plunge into that welcoming sheath and feel her convulse around him. But he couldn't. Not today. Taking what he could get, he lowered his mouth to hers again, plunging into her sweetness, reveling in the hot response she gave.

Gradually she quieted. It was so hot. She felt as if she had melted and been reborn. His mouth was gently nibbling her lips now, moving to her cheeks, her nose, back to her lips. But his wonderful magical fingers were still. Soon he'd pull away and she'd be alone again, but for now, she wanted to imprint everything on her mind so she could always remember.

Her arms were heavy, she was so hot. Slowly her hands relaxed their grip, soothed the strong shoulder muscles, drew lazy circles against his burning skin.

He pulled back and looked down at her. She opened her eyes slightly, so tired and satiated she could scarcely move. Her arms fell to the blanket. Her legs were still spread, his hand a hot brand against her femininity. Her eyes watched him watch her as he drew slowly back from her. She sighed and moved to snuggle closer, closing her legs against his hand, not wanting him to leave her.

He chuckled and brought his hand from her shorts, and lay back, pulling her across his chest. Kelly's head lay on his shoulder, and her arm went to cross his chest. She was as relaxed as she'd ever been. The rapid pounding of his heart beneath her ear showed her he had been affected, as well.

"I'm so tired," she said.

"Then go to sleep." His voice was soft against her ear.

"Umm."

He thought she had fallen asleep when she caressed his chest and mumbled.

"Next time bring protection."

Chapter 6

He held the armful of soft femininity against his chest, knowing instantly when she fell asleep by her total relaxation. Trusting him. She smelled so good, felt so good, and it had been so long. He closed his eyes as his hand pushed her shirt out of the way and gently rubbed her soft skin. It was like the softest silk. All over. He wondered if the calluses on his fingers and palms were rough on her. She was incredibly soft. And sweet.

And he'd never hurt with wanting anyone so much in his life.

But there would be no next time. Another time she'd want to have his shirt off, not just open. To make love to her he'd have to shuck his jeans. And once she saw the scars, the ridges and puckered skin where the bull had gored and the doctors had patched, she would be so disgusted she wouldn't want anything further to do with him.

He hadn't wanted a woman in the past two years. He hadn't known before meeting Kelly that he'd ever want a woman again. But just being around her kept him in a partial state of arousal. After today, he'd have to keep his distance. He couldn't stand for another woman to rail at him as Althea had. He couldn't bear to have Kelly disgusted with his scars.

But he'd have today to remember. She had been so responsive, so passionate. Damn, he wished he could have had her!

His fingers gentled in her hair, brushing it back from her flushed face. She was hot. The sheen of perspiration made her s
kin
glow. She was so pretty. What was she doing out here with him? Was this a lark, too?

He eased her yellow top down over her, raising her a little to bring it between them, covering her, tingling awareness still shimmering between them. He wished he could hold her forever. Gradually she cooled down. Gradually he did, too, but the ache didn't go away.

* * *

Kelly woke slowly, conscious first of the slow, steady heartbeat beneath her ear. Taking a breath, she inhaled Kit's scent. He smelled of sunshine and grass, of tangy after-shave and masculine power, his scent uniquely his own. Lying still, she breathed steadily, smiling in sensual satisfaction.

Slowly she flexed her fingers against his chest, pulling the crisp hair slightly, rubbing against the rock-hard muscles clearly defined beneath his warm skin.

"Awake?" he mumbled softly, his eyes still closed as he held her.

"Mmm-hmm. Was I asleep long?"

"Don't know. I fell asleep, too. You ready to go?"

"Not just yet." Kelly was caught in an awkward situation she didn't know how to handle. She'd gone to bed with only one other man—boy, actually—when she'd been in college and wanted to see what all the talk was about. They'd gone steady for weeks before. But she hardly knew Kit. How did she face him now? What was the proper after-love etiquette? If anyone knew it, it had to be this wild cowboy.

Idly her hand moved against him, relishing the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips, the crisp curly hair on his chest, the hard muscles of his stomach. The coarse ridges...

Kelly went still, her fingertips tracing scar tissue across his abdomen, around his waist to his back. Disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Kit caught her hand and dragged it away.

"Don't," he said, his voice hard.

"Did it hurt?" she asked, raising her head to look at him.

"It hurt like hell at the time. Doesn't now. Let's go." He eased her away, drawing his shirt together in front and sitting up, turning away from her.

Kelly sat up, knelt, sank on her ankles, puzzled. What was wrong?

"Kit, I know you must have scars from the accident. But they don't matter. I have a scar from appendicitis."

"Dammit, Kelly, these don't compare to some slight scar a doctor did below your bikini line. We're talking repulsive enough to turn a strong woman's stomach."

She stared at him in disbelief, in growing horror. Had those been Althea's words to him in hospital? Good grief, no wonder he wanted nothing to do with her.

She scooted around to face him, rising up on her knees to be higher than he was. Her hands reached out and jerked his shirt, her blue eyes blazing down into his.

"Now just a damn minute, Kit Lockford. Don't you go telling me what will turn my stomach, because you don't know me at all. Are you so caught up in perfection that a slight imperfection is cause to reject a person?"

"Of course not. But—"

"But nothing, cowboy. Let me see." She tugged at his shirt, popping two buttons he'd already fastened. He pulled the shirt closed, trying to fend her off, but she jerked up the edge and stared at the lines that crisscrossed his skin.

Lightly she traced them. His muscles jerked beneath her touch.

Mischievously she grinned up at him. "Are you ticklish?"

"No." But the way he said it, she knew.

She ran her fingers over his side and he squirmed away, laughing. "Stop it."

She laughed and leaned closer, her hands on his shoulders. Her smile faded and she leaned even closer.

"You better hope I have a strong stomach or you're going to have a mess all over you." She closed the distance to his lips and kissed him hard.

Pulling away before he could reach for her, she snapped up to her feet, straightening her shorts, pulling her sadly wrinkled shirt down, trying to stretch out some of the wrinkles.

"They are not so bad," she said, catching his gaze.

"The worst are lower," he said, buttoning his shirt, searching around for his hat.

He refused to meet her eye and Kelly wondered at the awful words he had said. Her heart ached for him.

"What do you do with your other women, make love in the dark? Only let them touch your shoulders?" she asked as she went to get the bag and cooler to load in the back of the truck. She tucked her pad into the brown bag.

"There are no other women," he said shortly.

She looked at him. "Since when?"

"Since the accident."

"How long ago?"

"Over two years."

She stared in disbelief. This gorgeous hunk of man was telling her he had not made love in over two years? What was wrong with the women in Tuolumne County? What was wrong with him?

"Why not?" She sank down, her legs refusing to hold her.

"Why the hell do you think? I told you the worst ones are lower."

"I can't wait for you to show than to me," she said.

"Hell, Kelly, I'm not such a masochist that I'll set myself up for something like that. There won't be another time."

She saw the determination in his eyes, but was too stunned to argue. Slowly she gathered the things and put them in the truck.

Going back, she knew she still had to help him rise. Would he let her?

He had his crutches beside him, his left leg bent, boot firmly planted on the ground.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, avoiding his glance lest he see the hurt she was feeling.

"Let's try it with you behind me. If I can get enough leverage to get up on the crutch handles, I can make it up the rest of the way."

She went behind him and waited until he had the crutches beside him. Then she reached beneath his arms, and straightened. He came up as easily as if one leg wasn't totally useless. She held him for a brief second before stepping back. Leaning over, she folded the blanket, keeping her face averted.