The Outback Bridal Rescue (9 page)

Johnny El is wanted her.

His mouth crashed down onto hers in a passionate His mouth crashed down onto hers in a passionate plundering that incited an equal y passionate response, years of wanting pouring into her need to taste
this
man, have him tasting her, wanting more of her. She wound her arms around his neck, stretched up on tiptoe, pressed closer, trying to lock in every possible physical contact with him, revel ing in the exciting heat of his big strong body, the tension in his muscles.

He kissed her as greedily and urgently as she kissed him. When he sucked in air, she did, too, her pulse racing, her breasts heaving to the same rise and fal of his chest.

Though even the slightest pause in this hectic intimacy hit a panic button. She didn’t want him to stop, to pul away from her, have second thoughts about what he was doing. She kept a tight hold on him, her fingers thrusting through his hair, curling around his head, rabidly encouraging continuance.

He kissed her some more, with a deepening eroticism that stirred her desire for him into a chaotic frenzy, every nerve in her body sizzling for the fulfilment of al he promised. His hands roved over her back, fol owing its curves, curling over the taut mounds of her bottom, squeezing, lifting, fitting her more closely to him. No doubt about how strongly he was aroused. She felt his erection against her stomach and exulted in the blatant physical power of his desire for her.

Then he tore his mouth from hers and buried his face in her hair, rubbing his cheeks over it, breathing in the scent on it, tasting it with hot sensual kisses. And she pressed her own face into the warm hol ow of his neck, savouring the smel of him, her sensitised lips picking up the rapid throb of his pulse beat there, enclosing it, sucking on it, excited by his excitement and wildly wanting to drive it higher and higher.

‘Megan…’

The hoarse whisper carried the sound of raging need, making her heart leap with fierce exhilaration. His throat moved in a convulsive swal ow.

‘Megan…’ A stronger tone, harsh with urgency. ‘Tel me

—’ intense command ‘—is this right for you?’

‘Yes…yes,’ she answered, every fibre of her being affirming its rightness for her.

‘You know I have to leave tomorrow,’ he said in strained argument.

‘I don’t care,’ she cried recklessly.

‘Then neither do I,’ he muttered savagely, and Megan found herself abruptly swept off her feet, her legs hanging over his arm, the rest of her clamped to his chest, and he was carrying her out of the sitting room. ‘Better than drowning your sorrows in a bottle,’ he bit out, apparently stil needing to convince himself he wasn’t doing wrong by her.

‘Yes,’ she agreed emphatical y. ‘Much better.’

‘Your room or mine?’

‘Mine.’ Where she had dreamed so many times of Johnny El is coming to love her. Years of dreams. Never any substance to them. At least she was about to experience some physical reality of al those secret desires, even if it was only sex.

When he stepped out on the verandah, he hesitated. ‘I don’t have any protection with me.’

‘I told you I don’t need your protection.’

‘Right!’

Relieved of any worries about getting her pregnant, he surged forward again, striding out, legs pumping with driven purpose as he headed straight for her room. Megan had no protection at al against the possibility of conception, but she didn’t care. She hung on to him, recklessly abandoning every care.

It didn’t matter what was said.

Didn’t matter what was done.

As long as she had Johnny El is in her bed tonight!

JOHNNY’S
mind was in total ferment, but his body kept moving, driven by its own physical need to satisfy the desire roaring through him. As he’d stepped out on the verandah, the cooler air of the outback night had hit him in the face, sobering him enough to realise what he was doing…taking Patrick’s daughter to bed with him. Yet Megan wanted it, too. She was clinging to him. No second thoughts from her.

And she
was
grown up. Wel and truly grown up. Even prepared for sex, having her own form of protection since she didn’t need him to use anything. Which meant he’d been completely wrong about her attitude to
all men.
She couldn’t have been sour on them. Only him. So why was she letting him do this? More than that, actively stirring him into it.

Pride stung by the comments he’d made about her yesterday?

Using sex to take away the bitter taste of her father’s death?

Using
him
because he was here and she thought he was the kind of man who would view it as meaningless?

He reached her door, opened it. His heart was rocketing around his chest as he carried her inside. The ache in his groin demanded that he stop thinking and simply take what was being offered. He closed the door, switched on the light, his mind fiercely dictating that Megan not hide him in darkness.

He set her on her feet, cupped her face in his hands, forcing her gaze to meet his. ‘It’s
me…
Johnny,’ he said, searching her eyes with gut-wrenching intensity for answers he could live with. ‘Sure you want this, Megan?’

Angry defiance sparked. ‘Getting cold feet, Johnny?

Want to put me back into the
little sister
box?’

‘No, I don’t!’ exploded from him.

The sparkles changed to glittery chal enge. ‘Then don’t treat me like an idiot child. We’re here. And yes, I’m sure.’

He stopped caring about what was in her mind. The desire burning inside him flared up, took control, directing the paths it wanted to take. His hands slid slowly down the long elegant neck that held her head so high. Her skin was warm, soft, silky smooth. She stood absolutely stil , watching him, absorbing his touch without the slightest flinch. The sensual trail of his fingers was interrupted by the necklace at the base of her throat.

His
pearls.

Leave them there.

He wanted her stripped of everything else but not them.

The pearls were a link to him. They had meaning. He lifted them, rubbed them between his fingers, knowing their lustre was increased by contact with flesh—her flesh—his.

‘Why did you wear them today?’ he asked, wanting it to be significant.

Stil the chal enge sizzling at him. ‘Why not? You gave them to me to wear. They looked good with my black suit.’

them to me to wear. They looked good with my black suit.’

Denying them any personal meaning yet al his instincts insisted it was there—if only as a weapon in her armoury to get at him. Flaunting her hair, her figure,
his
necklace…was it just some sexual battle she was waging?

The primitive survivor in Johnny stirred.

Regardless of what was driving Megan, he would win out in the end.

And get it right.

Megan sucked in a quick nervous breath as the skin-tingling pads of his fingers glided down the edges of her jacket’s V neckline. Panic was stil blurring her mind. She’d thought he was going to stop, back off. The white-hot need for intimacy was no longer outrunning control and she couldn’t bring herself to force it by throwing herself at him.

They were here in her bedroom. He had to want her…want her so much nothing would stop him.

She shouldn’t have hit out with that negative stuff, reminding him of the years between them, pretending that his necklace was just a necklace.

But he wasn’t backing off.

It
was
happening.

And she was scared stiff that he’d find her hopelessly inadequate at meeting him as an equal when they were final y in bed together, that he’d realise how relatively inexperienced she was and wish he hadn’t been tempted into having any sexual connection with her.

She’d only been thinking of satisfying herself before.

But that wasn’t enough.

She wanted Johnny to love her, need her, come back to her.

With tantalising slowness he undid the top button of her jacket. Then the next. And the next. Her breasts seemed to swel with a terribly tight feeling. Yet her legs were turning into wobbly jel y. He slid her jacket off her shoulders, caressed her arms as he pushed the sleeves down. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. She had to
do
something or she’d end up paralysed by inhibitions.

His coat and tie had been discarded after the visitors had left, the sleeves of his shirt rol ed up when he’d been helping in the kitchen. As his hands moved around her back to undo her bra, the thought of being stripped naked while he was stil dressed galvanised Megan into action. She attacked the buttons on his shirt, needing to rip it off him as fast as she could, keep some kind of equality between them.

Once he’d dispensed with her bra, he helped, tossing his shirt on the floor to join the other discarded clothes, then removing her skirt while she hesitated over touching his trousers. She’d seen Johnny naked to the waist before—

washing up outside many times. The beautiful y sculpted masculinity of his chest and arms held no surprises for her, but close up like this, with the taut muscles and smooth hairless skin barely a heartbeat away from the tips of her bare breasts, she was too caught up in breathless anticipation to even attempt stripping him further.

Besides, he did it fast enough, revealing himself without Besides, he did it fast enough, revealing himself without any worry whatsoever about her reaction to
his
completely naked body. No doubt he was perfectly comfortable in his own skin. And why wouldn’t he be? On any male scale he was magnificently built. Impossible for him to feel any sense of inadequacy with so much blatant power in his physique.

Her stil ness, her staring, evoked a gruff taunt from him.

‘Not freezing up on me, are you, Megan?’

Her chin jerked up, eyes flaring a bold chal enge. ‘Just looking.’ This was no time for backing down!

‘Satisfied?’

‘I hope I wil be.’

Something like an animal growl issued from his throat.

His hands spanned her waist. She was lifted off her feet, carried swiftly to the bed, laid down so he could stand back and look at her. Which he did, taking in every detail of her from the spil of her hair on the pil ow to the uncontrol able curling of her toes. Megan wanted to close her eyes but she couldn’t al ow herself that weakness. It would betray the nervous fear pumping through her. She watched him, waiting for his response, her heart drumming in her ears.

Johnny could barely contain himself. She lay there in seductive abandonment, her hair a fiery halo, her arms lying loosely across the bed, waiting to wrap around him when he came to her, the lushly ful breasts peaking their invitation, her pale skin gleaming like sensual satin. He’d lose himself in her in no time flat if he wasn’t careful.

No way was he going to leave Megan thinking of him as a rutting animal. If she wanted that kind of perverse satisfaction, she wasn’t about to get it. Nor would he let her dismiss him as just another man. God only knew how many lovers she’d had but he was al fired up to be the one who lingered longest in her memory, the one she’d want more than any other.

She was stil wearing the sheer black pantihose that had drawn his attention to the shapeliness of her legs. He leaned one knee on the bed, hooked his thumbs under the waistband and rol ed the garment down, slowly easing it over her hips.

She lifted herself slightly to al ow it free passage past the sexy cheeks of her bottom. He smiled at the natural triangle of red-gold pubic hair, glad it hadn’t been subjected to a bikini or Brazilian wax. The fiery arrow, pointing to the apex of her silky thighs, was much more exciting.

He caressed the erotic curves of her legs as he removed the black nylon, her feet, her toes, and there was certainly nothing
brotherly
about what he did. The slight twitches and gasps from Megan told him the prolonged sensuality was getting to her. He wanted to weave such an enthral ing web of it she’d be total y captivated, aware of only him and how he was touching her, making love to her.

He trailed kisses up and down her inner thighs, revel ing in the revealing quiver of her flesh under his lips as he moved her legs apart. He caressed the soft folds of her sex, feeling the moist heat that telegraphed her readiness for him. Not yet, he told himself, fighting the urge to take, to sate his own almost bursting need for her.

He grazed his mouth over the erotic little hol ows under her hipbones while inciting her need to a higher pitch with his hand, his thumb gently rubbing her clitoris, fingers circling, diving inside her, working a teasing rhythm as he pressed hot kisses over her stomach. And her body arched up to him, inviting, inciting.

But he wanted her wild for him.

He ran his tongue around the tips of her breasts and she broke into chaotic movement, hands clawing at his back, urging an upward surge. Excitement flooded through him but he denied her demand to hurry the pace, surrounding the taut thrust of her nipple with his mouth, drawing on it, reinforcing the rhythmic caress he’d maintained, building an arc of throbbing pleasure.

She grabbed his head, fingers tugging his hair. He moved to her other breast, determined on having her whole body acutely aware of him, craving and wal owing in every nuance of sensation he could give her. Her body thrashed from side to side in a chaotic offering that drove him to almost frenzied action. Impossible to hold out much longer.

He drew himself up, hovered over her, his eyes seeking affirmation of al he felt in hers. Shards of silver were fiercely shot at him. Her legs curled around his thighs, convulsively pressing. Her hands linked around his neck, trying to pul him down to her. She was panting with the primitive passion he had stirred.

Whether it was pride or possessiveness or some dark streak of male domination driving him, Johnny didn’t know, but the powerful need to stamp himself in her mind overrode everything else.

‘Say my name,’ he commanded, resisting the compel ing pressure to perform at her instigation. ‘Say it!’

‘Johnny…’ It burst from her as though her mind was fil ed to overflowing with it.

His heart leapt in exultation. He positioned himself to enter her, pausing to feel the pulsing welcome of her inner muscles closing around him, sucking him in.