Outlaw (28 page)

The rest of his words were lost in the heat
and weight of his long, hard body pressed lovingly on hers, in the
feel of his hands scooping between Amelia and the mattress to
flatten against her shoulder blades and hold her closer. His taut
muscles pressed against the sides of her bosom, evidence of the
masculine strength Mason kept so firmly in check, but his arms
supported her effortlessly.

Amelia writhed against him, loving the feel
of their bodies together, loving the differences between them. She
cupped the stubble-roughened stretch of his jaw as he kissed her,
inhaled the musky, male scent of his skin, and knew that lying with
him would forever transform her. How could she not love him more,
after sharing so much?

Moaning, Mason lifted her higher against the
pillows, then paused to spread her hair across their cotton
softness. His fingers combed through her curly unbound strands, his
knuckles trembling slightly as they brushed her cheeks. He raised
his gaze to hers, and the tenderness she saw there whisked the
breath from Amelia's lips.

"There'll be no rushing this," he warned,
and though his voice sounded harsh with the effort his restraint
cost him, his eyes were gentle. "Not when I've wanted you for so
long."

"But we've only known each other for days,"
she whispered.

"It feels like forever."

His thumb stroked across her cheekbone, then
lowered to her mouth. Softly, she felt it sweep the fullness of her
bottom lip.

She kissed it, savoring the sound of his
indrawn breath. Emboldened by the knowledge that her touch could
affect him, too, Amelia bit down gently, testing her teeth against
the pad of his thumb. He moaned and she captured his hand in
hers.

"Love me," she whispered, tugging his hand
toward her shoulder. "Show me how to love you."

Anticipation swirled in her belly,
tightening into an aching need to feel his hands stroking her
again. His eyes darkened and Mason complied, slipping her chemise
strap aside. The gentle rasp of its lace edge felt a hundred times
more intense than usual against her skin, his caressing fingertips
a thousand times more arousing.

Amelia closed her eyes as his fingers
fluttered across her shoulder, dipping low enough to brush her
collarbone. His shirt sleeve, then the warm inside of his wrist,
touched the upper swell of her breasts, awakening every inch of
sensitive skin. Mindlessly, she leaned forward, seeking more.

"Ahhh, so soft..." he said, turning his hand
to skim his knuckles along the lace-trimmed edge of her
chemise.

She opened her eyes and just glimpsed his
large, tawny-skinned hand as it glided over the paler, softer slope
of her breasts. The erotic sight only made her breath come faster
and her yearning increase as, with his other hand, Mason stroked
his thumb past the wild pulse in her throat.

As though he'd commanded it, her heartbeat
quickened.

Longing for his hands to move lower, Amelia
bit her lip and tossed her head. "Please," she moaned, hardly
recognizing the breathless, ragged voice she heard as her own.

Mason recognized it. Answered it. With a
fierce, possessive smile he tightened his hand on her neck and drew
her to him. His lips descended on hers with a bruising force she
welcomed.

Kissing, licking, biting, he mastered her
mouth and set her senses burning with need. Beneath her questing
hands his big body shuddered, then his hips thrust into the cradle
of her thighs. Heat emanated from him, searing through the thin
fabric of her chemise and pantalets, and the rigid proof of his
desire made Amelia gasp.

At the sound, Mason stilled. Breathing hard,
he shifted atop her so they barely touched, his hair dark and
pillow-tossed, his eyes closed. Atop his thighs, his fists
clenched. Confused, she touched his chest, palmed his soft swirls
of hair, whispered his name.

He threw his head back, exposing the lean
line of his throat. He swallowed hard. "Don't be afraid," he
murmured, spreading his fingers apart to relax his fists. "I
need..."

"...you. This."

His voice ground away beneath a moan. The
bed springs creaked as Mason settled back further on his heels,
then finally opened his eyes.

They were filled with love.

Filled with love and longing—a longing
belied when he slid her chemise strap up again. Amelia bit her lip,
wanting to scream as Mason's fingers outlined the thin strap,
smoothing heat into her shoulder.

Slowly, he lowered it. "It's hard to wait
for you, Curly Top," he said, kissing the heated line he'd
drawn.

"But I want this to last." He raised it
again. Tremors raced across her shoulders and tingled down her
arms, making her seize the opened ends of his shirt for support. He
was going to drive her crazy, crazy with wondering and needing and
the dizziness that swamped her every time he caressed her.

"Easy," he murmured, squeezing her arms, and
the leisurely movements of his big hands felt as frustrating as
they did soothing. He slid his hands upward to her shoulders, this
time slipping away both chemise straps at once.

Her chemise drooped, letting cooler air wash
over the tops of her breasts. Automatically, Amelia held it up with
one hand. The motion pushed her bosom higher, and Mason's hungry
gaze went straight there, lingering on the bare skin he'd revealed.
He lowered his head and reached for her, and she held her breath,
already feeling the glide of his fingertips against her skin, the
pressure of his hands on her shoulders.

Instead, he tipped her head back and kissed
her. His hands tangled in her hair as the hungry demands of his
mouth increased and his tongue slipped inside to stroke hers.

This was no tender, easy kiss, yet an
answering need swelled within her, amazing in its ferocity. Amelia
dug her fingers into the knotted strength of his shoulders and held
on, opening her mouth wide to receive his kiss, pressing hard
against him. As of their own accord, her hands spread apart his
shirt. Eagerly, she tugged it over Mason's shoulders.

The kiss ended and she sank into the
piled-up pillows, her lips swollen and wonderfully tingling. His
shirt dropped from her fingers. Looking up, she saw that the low
lit lamp glowed just enough to reveal Mason's broad shoulders, his
lean-muscled middle...his wicked smile.

"Oh!" Amelia cried, embarrassed at being
caught watching him, yet too curious to stop. She lay her palm flat
against his chest, where his heart beat wildly as her own, and felt
an answering smile quirk her own lips.

She licked them, trying to regain a shade of
composure, and failed. "You're...you're beautiful," she whispered.
"So strong and beautiful and—"

"So are you."

Mason stared, his intensity confusing her
until she felt his warm hands cup her breasts and realized her
chemise had drifted to her waist while they kissed. Her nipples
rose against his palms and she hardly dared breathe, lest he stop
touching her. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful. His hands traced
her, shaped her, gently squeezed, and the heated glide of his skin
on hers drove all else from her mind.

He moaned and Amelia arched higher, baring
herself to him. Nothing mattered more than the pleasure of his
touch, the feel of his hard, gentle body against hers. His thigh
settled between her legs, sending warmth clean through his heavy
twill pants and her pantalets to her skin beneath. Mindlessly she
tightened her thighs around the granite length of his thigh,
tilting her hips higher to ease the pressure building within.

Mason cupped her cheek, stroked the curve of
her ear, kissed her as though he were a drowning man and she the
air he needed to breathe. Again and again his lips met hers, his
mouth devouring, his hands caressing her face, her neck, stroking
back her tousled hair. More and more emboldened, Amelia swept her
hands across his back, traced his spine...returned his kiss with a
passion she'd never known herself capable of.

Love, love whirled between them, sweetening
every touch. When he cradled her breasts in his hand, he held more
than her body—he held her heart. And even without flowery words of
love, his care for her sounded in every sigh, every moan—made
itself known with every shared look. There could never be enough of
such union between them, and the knowledge soared through her soul,
transforming her...imparting the courage to give back all the
pleasure she received.

Amelia caressed his shoulders, buried her
fingers in the softness of his hair until it tickled beneath her
nails and its soapy washed scent filled her nose. She urged his
head closer and Mason came eagerly, pressing her breasts beneath
his chest as he lowered his mouth to her neck and suckled. His
tender nip just beneath her ear sent fresh shudders through
her.

"You taste like spring," he murmured against
her earlobe.

His teeth nibbled at its sensitive flesh,
sending a jolt of pleasure from her head to her belly and lower.
She held him tighter, gasping. Her response was rewarded with the
soft swirl of his tongue tracing the outer edge of her ear, then by
the return of his hands to her breasts.

"Yes," Amelia cried, twisting to push
herself more fully into his hands. Mason watched her, his eyes
glittering with barely leashed need. He plucked his fingers gently
from the curved slope of her breasts to their taut peaks, ending
each stroke with a delicacy that made her quiver.

His loving went on, and she nearly wept his
name, consumed with the wanting of something she couldn't describe,
let alone ask for. Filled with frustration, she ran her hands from
his chest downward, holding, stroking until she reached his belly
and then moving lower to grip his steely thighs.

A moan rumbled from her throat, shocking
her, but Amelia was beyond caring. The next sensuous stroke of his
hands on her breasts set her trembling helplessly. Her fingers
kneaded his thighs and the squeezing relieved the pressure, but not
enough. Never enough.

Yet somehow, somehow, Mason understood.
Briefly, all too briefly, his hands cradled her breasts completely,
and his mouth found hers in a searing kiss. Sucking slowly,
nibbling, he gentled their contact until nothing remained between
them but leisurely kisses and—to Amelia's profound dismay—her
chemise as he covered her with it again.

She felt like ripping the garment aside. She
managed nothing more than a sigh as Mason's hands came to rest on
her knees, then slid upward, stealing her attention afresh. Her
thighs tensed and drew slightly together, automatically shielding
her femininity from him. He stilled...but his hands remained where
they were.

"Amy?" Mason leaned down, kissed her. His
breathing sounded at least as labored as her own. "Only if you want
this."

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened
them. In the lantern's half-light he looked a stranger suddenly—one
intent and drawn tightly with a need she instinctively
recognized.

"But tell me now," he said, wrapping his
hands fully around her knees as though prepared to wrench her legs
apart, to take her then and there. "
Tell me
."

Everything womanly inside her urged Amelia
to go forward. Biting her lip, willing herself to trust enough to
open to the man she loved, she arched her neck into the coolness of
the pillows.

"Yes."

Her smile felt tremulous. His was fierce,
male, triumphant. Still Mason's hands remained on her knees,
unmoving as slowly, shyly, she relaxed against the mattress. She
wanted this, wanted to know him fully. Wanted so much to experience
every part of love.

Before long, she wanted nothing more than
for his hands to go on caressing her. She mimicked his motions,
hesitantly squeezing his thighs as he straddled her...and still he
waited. When at last his hands moved, they stroked languidly toward
the apex of her thighs and back again, at once exciting and
frustrating her anew. Digging her thumbs into his pants legs,
Amelia ground her teeth.

Mason saw, and smiled. "You touch me," he
murmured, inching his fingers higher, "and I burn."

His expression turned serious,
yearning...and inexplicably determined. Beneath his palms, even her
kneecaps tickled, teased into a sensitivity she'd never imagined.
Between her legs, a slow ache began, merging into her heartbeat and
quickening with every moment he delayed.

His thumbs brushed the insides of her knees.
"You're beautiful," he said, his eyes following the path she hoped
his hands would make next. "...so beautiful, and
mine
."

His hands tightened, then began moving. His
breath broke, then quickened. "I touch you—and I'm alive
again."

Helplessly, Amelia nodded, transfixed by the
rugged sweep of his voice and the meltingly slow crawl of his
fingers on her thighs. Higher, higher, they traveled, and beneath
them she felt her bones turn to warm honey, useless to support
her.

"Yours, yours—please," she begged. Through
half-closed eyes she glimpsed his loving smile, and knew he'd meant
every word of his warning to her.

There'll be no rushing this
.

The throbbing deepened between her legs,
became a demand that consumed her. Quivering, pinned beneath his
hands and the intensity of his gaze, she waited for his stroke to
ease the ache inside her. Mason's fingertips branded through her
thin cotton pantalets, slid higher...brushed past her woman's mound
to capture her hips and squeeze them in his powerful hands.

Her whole body responded to his possessive
grasp. Unthinking, she thrust upward and the pressure within
increased, spiraling from the juncture of her thighs to her hips
and further. She gasped, loving him, loving his hands that kept her
safe, grounded her, led her upward again with the hard length of
his thigh for support. Tremors shook her, leaving her
breathless.