Samantha James (60 page)

No, he wasn't so drunk that he couldn't appreciate her beauty. Just the sight of her made his mouth go dry. His blood pooled thickly in his loins, hardening his cock to an almost painful fullness. For all her slenderness, her breasts were lush and delectably shaped. He'd have bet his last dollar her rounded fullness would fit his hands perfectly.

The thought made him grit his teeth with need.

He ached with the need to strip the clothes from her body and explore every sweet, enticing inch of her. And he promised himself that soon he would... very soon.

His eyes never left hers as he pulled off his gun belt, walked across the rough plank floor and draped it over the chair. A moment later he caught her hand and pulled her against him. He wasted no time feasting on the sweetness of her mouth.

Abby had no choice but to endure his embrace. He held her so tightly she could scarcely move. Her breasts were flattened against the granite plane of his chest. And her tummy was nestled intimately against his... why, she couldn't even think it!

But there was more. Abby didn't realize he was nudging her backward until it was too late. She felt something behind her knees and then she was tumbling back, the weight of his body guiding her fall against the mattress.

She made a faint sound deep in her throat. She jammed her fists instinctively against his shoulders, but he paid no heed. His body was anchored to her own, his mouth on the sweeping arch of her throat. "Relax," he muttered. "I'm not worried about the price. We'll settle up later."

He trapped her mouth beneath his again. His hand swept aside a strap and trespassed beneath the red silk bodice, laying claim to the arching curve of her breast. To Abby, his hand was like a brand, touching flesh that no man had ever touched. As if that weren't enough, she felt the graze of roughened fingertips across her nipple. Once. Twice .. . again. Shocked by such blatant intimacy, Abby lay motionless for a moment. .. but only for a moment.

Somehow she succeeded in twisting her head away. "Wait!" she cried.

Her plea emerged in a strangled gasp. Kane's head lifted slowly. He still lay atop her, his legs tangled with her own. His eyes were glittering shards of light. "Christ! Don't tell me you've changed your mind."

The edge in his voice was just a little frightening. Abby drew a deep, tremulous breath. For just a moment, uncertainty eroded her determination.

But she had come this far. And now she was so close! She forced herself to concentrate on her purpose for coming here. Dillon's life depended on her. And she would do whatever she must to save him.

"No," she denied quickly. "It's just that. .." She broke off, grappling for an excuse, but nothing came to mind. And all the while Kane stared at her— through her. His hand deserted her breast, yet still Abby felt curiously exposed and naked. The only sound in the room was the ragged trickle of her breathing.

"Wait a minute," he said finally. "You said your father just died ... Don't tell me you've never been with a man. . . that this is the first time you've ever.. ."

The word he used was crude. A betraying flush crept into her cheeks. Her eyes flitted away from the relentless demand in his. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't!

She acknowledged his assumption with a tiny nod.

Kane swore with blunt profanity. His body felt like a spring about to uncoil. His desire for her was a twisting ache in his gut. It was that part of him that urged him to be kind to his body and soothe the raging fire inside. Yet he'd never lain with a virgin. Not even Lorelei—

He rolled off her and got to his feet. Disgust marked every taut line of his body. "Thanks, honey," he said tightly, "but I'm afraid I'll have to pass."

His statement brought her upright in a flash. "Please, I—it's all right, really. I mean, if it's not you, it'll just be someone else." She was floundering and prayed he didn't know it. She reached for him, keeping her hands anchored to his shoulders. "And I'd really rather it was you, Kane."

She was a little shocked that she could be so bold, but hoping to add credence to her words, she levered herself on tiptoe and placed her lips on his.

Kane inhaled sharply, suddenly disinclined to argue. Knowing she wanted him only inflamed him further, and the shy, tentative way she moved her lips against his added fuel to the fire. Later, he decided dimly, he'd show her how to kiss properly.

Her kiss couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, but her breathing was quick and shallow when she lowered her heels to the floor once more. The fierce glow in Kane's eyes sent a flutter of alarm through her.

His hands caught at her waist. She felt their warmth burning through the thin cloth of her dress. "You sure about this?" he asked thickly.

As drunk as he was, it didn't take much to push him back on the bed. "I'm sure," she said with a catch in her voice. "Just give me a minute."

There would be no talking with him, no reasoning or persuading, she realized. She'd once heard Dillon laughingly comment to one of the ranch hands about a man whose "brains were between his legs." She hadn't truly understood then, but the hunger in Kane's eyes had broadened her understanding rather quickly—and so had that strange hardness she'd felt pressed against the softness of her belly.

She lowered her lashes and backed away. Kane evidently thought she was being coy. A half-smile of satisfaction curled his lips. One strap of her gown slipped down her arm. She made no effort to retrieve it. All the while she retreated, she prayed she wouldn't give herself away. Kane was not a man to toy with, and what she was about to do was unthinkable.

When she reached the chair in the corner, she turned and presented him with her back. Her palms grew damp as she extended her hand toward the chair. She could feel his stare digging like tiny needles into her and knew he watched her still.

And indeed Kane could scarcely take his eyes off her. He hadn't realized it until now, but her insistence on staying was a soothing balm to his ego. Lord knew he'd been feeling lower than a snake's belly lately. His eyes riveted on the tempting view she presented him. His mind began to run rampant with fantasies. First he intended to find out if those luscious breasts of hers fit his palms the way he hoped. Then he would fill his hands with that enticing little behind. So she was a virgin, eh? He wanted her to enjoy things, too, he realized. He'd make her as hot for him as he was for her, by God. He'd toy with her silken channel, stroking soft, velvet furrows and making her hot and wet. Then he would ease a finger—maybe two if she could take it—inside her.
Yes,
he thought.
God, yes.
Then later—

He got up and walked to the window, thinking she meant to undress and willing to give her what little privacy was available. The thought of the hours to come made him shift, the swelling of his rod straining beneath his pants. A crooked little smile on his lips, he promised himself that little problem would soon be taken care of.

"Kane."

He turned, thinking to find her naked and eager and waiting ...

Instead he found a revolver—
his
revolver—leveled at his stomach.

"Son of a bitch."

Even while he mouthed the curse, he was sorely tempted to laugh. This—this
girl
—had done what every lawman in New Mexico and half the West hadn't been able to do.

His head had begun to ache again. For the first time, Kane wished he hadn't consumed so much of that damned rotgut. In the cobwebbed recesses of his mind, he tried to gauge the distance between them. It wasn't more than a couple of yards. If he edged forward just a little, he might be able to grab the gun ...

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Her voice cracked sharp as a bullet. 'Take my word for it, Kane. I know how to use this."

The glint in her eyes carried a warning he wasn't inclined to ignore. Besides, the revolver was loaded, and drunk as he was, he could see that she handled it with an ease that spoke of long familiarity.

"What the hell is this?" he asked hoarsely.

Her chin lifted. "We're taking a little trip, you and I, Kane. And since I've wasted enough time as it is, I think it's time we got moving." With one hand she nudged his saddlebag from the chair, then shoved it toward him with the toe of her slipper.

"Pick it up," she ordered.

Kane did as she said, gritting his teeth against the pounding in his head as he bent and slowly straightened, then looped the bag over his shoulder.

"Very good, Kane." She nodded her satisfaction. "Now open the window. We're going out that way."

He blinked. His gaze slid reflexively toward the window, where a small overhang jutted out over the alley. From there it was perhaps ten feet to the ground below.

He didn't move. "What the hell's wrong with going out the front door?"

"So you can get lost in that crowd?" Her voice reflected her scorn. "Oh, no, Kane. I want you where I can see you." She gestured toward the window. "Open it," she repeated curtly. "Then get yourself outside before I decide to help you along."

An eerie chill ran down his spine. The revolver swung back, and this time it was level with his heart. He shoved the window up, thrust his legs through, and did the same thing any other drunken idiot facing down the barrel of a gun would do.

He jumped.

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