Wish Upon a Cowboy (26 page)

His right hand swept down along her spine, his fingertips tracing the length of her back until he reached the swell of her bottom. He caressed her through the thin cotton fabric, kneading her soft flesh with an urgency that fed the desire rocketing around inside her.

She squirmed in his grasp, cuddling tighter, closer and felt for the first time the hard, solid strength of him pressed against her abdomen. New heat coursed through her along a tide of sudden nerves that were then swept away as he tore his mouth from hers to kiss the column of her throat.

Tiny touches of lips and tongue trailed along her neck, leaving fire in their wake. Hannah tipped her head back and stared unseeing at the moonlit ceiling. Light and shadow blended together as she let herself focus only on the touch of his mouth on her skin.

"Hannah," he muttered thickly and cradled her close, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

"Yes, Jonas…" she whispered, instinctively realizing that he was giving her one last chance to change her mind. To leave this room—and him—behind.

But even if this hadn't been her destiny—even if he wasn't the warlock meant for her—Hannah couldn't leave him now. Not without knowing all of it. Feeling all of him.

Becoming, at least for this night, a part of him.

Lying alongside her, he swept one hand up the length of her leg, drawing the hem of her nightgown up and up and up.

The chill night air brushed her skin and was warmed by his touch. His fingertips trailed along the outer edges of her leg, sliding up her thigh, over her hip. And then he tucked his hand beneath the nightgown to continue his explorations. Fiery fingers smoothed across her rib cage, brushed the underside of her breast. Her breath caught and the world seemed to suddenly stand still in that heart-stopping moment. Then he cupped the fullness of her breast and she gasped, digging her head into the mattress, as he stroked his thumb across a nipple already hardened and waiting for him.

"Oh, my stars," she whispered, eyes wide open, staring at the shifting shadows that darted across the ceiling. She moved beneath him, straining to ease the low, throbbing ache that pulsed within her.

"Hannah," he whispered, as if he couldn't say her name enough.

Pushing the hem of her nightgown higher, he bared her breasts and pulled in a deep breath as he looked at her. Smiling to himself, he dipped his and took first one rosy pink nipple into his mouth then the other.

Someone whimpered.

Surprised, Hannah realized the sound was coming from her. Then she forgot about everything but the feel of his warm, wet mouth on her body. Again and again his mouth took her nipples, his tongue tracing the pink circle surrounding them, his teeth gently scraping across their tender tips.

Sparks flew inside her.

Desire fed on itself, building, blossoming.

He suckled her, drawing deeply on her as if trying to draw her heart and soul into his. With each tug of his lips, she felt the fire within her build, soaring powerfully into the night.

Then he lifted his head and she wanted to weep. Shifting her gaze to look at him, she said brokenly, "Don't stop."

He smiled a slow, lazy smile that eased the shadows in his eyes and touched her heart.

"Hannah, we're just gettin' started," he assured her in a voice that rumbled along the edges of her nerve endings, sending a skittering of fresh goose bumps ripping across her flesh.

She licked dry lips and tried to still the frantic pounding of her heart as he leaned over her and eased her nightgown up and over her head. He tossed it aside and looked his fill of her, his gaze setting her blood ablaze

Again, her tongue ran across dry lips and his gaze shifted to that action. Dipping his head, he too licked her lips and flames lapped at the lining of her stomach.

"You taste good," he mumbled and ran the flat of his hand over her body, his rough skin scraping against hers.

Hannah's mind whirled.

Then he eased onto his back, drawing her over and atop him.

She lay sprawled along the length of him, her naked breasts pressed to his chest, the slight dusting of hair on his skin teasing her flesh. Her legs atop his, she felt the hard muscles coiled beneath her and caught her breath again as his erection pressed into her abdomen.

"Jonas," she whispered and shifted her hips, hoping to ease the ache that only seemed to build with every passing moment.

"It's all right, Hannah," he said softly and turned again, this time pressing her into the mattress and lying half atop her while his hands moved over her, exploring every curve and line of her body.

Stars exploded in her mind. She twisted uncomfortably on the bed, writhing beneath his touch, hoping to find ease, to find… whatever it was that kept a careful distance.

Jonas stared into her eyes, watched them cloud with passion, and lost himself in the hazy green depths. He needed her more than he'd ever needed another living soul. Each breath she drew fed the flames inside him. Each shift of her body drove the hunger clawing at him.

With the new knowledge of who and what he was, he'd wondered if lovemaking would be different for him now. Would everything in his life be changed? Even to the loving of a woman?

And now he had the answer to that question.

Never before had he felt such a connection with a woman. It was as though he could feel what she felt. Experience both his pleasure and hers.

Heart pounding, lungs laboring for air, he slipped his hand down, across her belly to the tangle of blond hair at the apex of her thighs. Soft. Sweet. He went on, fingertips dipping to touch the heat that awaited him.

She jumped in his arms and he felt the explosion  the jolt of surprised delight that rocked her. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of being a part of her even before their bodies had joined.

His fingers delved her secrets, sweeping into the warmth of her, and his mind filled with every detail of what she experienced.

Breathless, he murmured, "Is this magic, Hannah?"

Her hips lifted against his hand. "The very best, Jonas."

"God help me," he whispered and smoothed thumb across the hardened nub of her center, a dart of lightning that pierced both of them with strength.

He shuddered and struggled to control himself. He needed to be inside her, to complete the link they inexplicably shared. To look into her eyes and know that she shared what he was feeling, as well.

Hannah moaned gently as her hips rocked with the movements of his fingers. And when he withdrew from her, she sighed brokenly and opened her eyes to meet his.

"I need…" she said softly, "I need –"

"I know darlin'," he said and moved to cover her with his body. "I do, too."

He entered her slowly, giving her body time to accept his. With every inch he claimed, his soul swelled. To be both invader and invaded was almost more than he could stand.

Jonas held perfectly still for a long moment, savoring the sensation of joining, truly joining with Hannah. And then he pushed himself home, driving into her depths.

A short, sharp burst of her pain exploded across his brain and he looked an apology into her eyes. But as that ache faded from her and from him, pleasure reared its head, claiming them both, drawing them down together into the swirling vortex of promised relief.

Her passion mounted, driven by his.

He looked deeper into her eyes, staring into her soul And in that moment, he knew that she wasn't sharing his feelings. She didn't know the shattering combination of sensations that were pouring through him.

Hannah felt only her passion.

Not his. A part of him wondered why that was, even as his body took over, blanking his mind.

He watched her head tip back, her eyes slide closed, counted the pulse beats in her throat. His own heart thundering in his chest, Jonas slipped one hand between their bodies, his fingertips reaching for the core of her. When he touched her, he looked into her eyes and felt satisfaction claim her.

Hannah clung to him and mindlessly rode the crest of the wave rising from deep within her. His body sheathed in hers, she moved with him, racing toward the conclusion she knew was waiting. She looked up into his eyes and, staring into those icy blue depths, she gasped and jumped willingly into oblivion.

Jonas survived her climax only to drown in his own a moment later. And when he slept, with Hannah cradled in his arms, there were no more dreams.

*  *  *

She woke before dawn, while night shadows still filled the room. Briefly, she looked around her, trying to remember where she was. And then the memories came rushing back and Hannah smiled, cuddling in closer to the man beside her. She laid her head on his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart.

She felt more alive than she ever had before.

Smiling into the twilight of the room, she remembered all the times she'd wondered what the marriage act would be like.

And none of her imaginings even came close to the reality.

There was no doubt in her mind now. There could be no mistaking what had happened between her and Jonas. They were meant to be married. To be together. She and the Mackenzie were linked. One.

No matter that they hadn't spoken their vows yet. This was their wedding night as surely as if they'd stood in front of friends and family proclaiming their love for each other. This was the night they'd sealed their destiny. The night they'd joined two ancient lines and perhaps created the first of their children.

As that thought circled through her mind, though, she remembered that this was Jonas's second wedding night. He'd been married before. Joined with a woman who'd known the touch and feel of his body on hers. A twinge of jealousy shimmered deep within her, despite knowing she shouldn't envy a dead woman, but rather feel sorry for her at all she'd lost.

Still Hannah wished she had been the only woman he'd loved. The only woman who'd touched him as deeply as he had touched her.

Frowning slightly, she told herself to let go of the past. After all if he'd never loved before, how could he know enough to cherish what they'd discovered together? Surely a man who had survived losing someone he loved would be even more likely to realize what a gift they'd been given.

What mattered was that Jonas was her husband now. Her mate for a lifetime. And that, together, they would stand against Wolcott and anyone else who might threaten what they'd found together.

Jonas shifted beside her and ran one hand up along her spine to tangle his fingers in her hair. The man's slightest touch turned her bones to butter.

She smiled at his tenderness and whispered, "Thank you," with a full heart.

He moved his hand, letting his fingertips trail gently across her shoulders. She trembled with anticipation, already looking forward to being loved by him again. Silently, she wondered if being "ravished" was done the same way, every time.

"Thank you?" he murmured. Hannah kissed his chest, then tipped her head back to look at him, meeting his lake-blue eyes. "For making my wedding night so perfect."

"Wedding night?"

Instantly, the blue of his eyes darkened into a swirl of indigo. His hand fell away from her and in one smooth motion he slipped out from beneath her and off the bed. Naked, he paced off a few steps, then came back and stood staring down at her, his features hard, jaw tight.

"Jonas," she asked, missing the warmth of his body already, "what is it? What's happened?"

"You happened," he ground out, his voice raw. "What the hell are you talking about? There was no marriage between us. Hannah."

Frowning, she reached for the sheet, covered herself as she sat up, and pushed her hair back from her face. For heaven's sake. He'd done the deed. Why was he upset now?

"We haven't said the vows yet, no," she agreed.

"And won't," he said with a brisk nod.

"Mackenzie," she said and scooted toward the edge of the mattress, holding one hand out toward him.

He looked at it like it was a snake and took a hasty step back.

Letting her hand fall to her lap, she continued, "Why are you fighting this? We joined tonight"—a rooster crowed, announcing the dawn—"last night," she amended. "Just as we were meant to do."

He reached up and shoved both hands through his thick dark hair. The muscles of his chest rippled with the motion and Hannah sighed briefly, recalling the feel of his skin beneath her hands. How had this gone wrong so quickly? How could he possibly be regretting what they'd shared?

"Nothing is meant, Hannah," he said, and his arms fell to his sides. "Just like what we did has nothing to do with getting married."

She smiled indulgently at him. "I realize this is no ordinary engagement—"

"Engagement?"

"You really should stop repeating everything I say."

"I can't believe you're saying it."

"I don't know why not."

"Because I didn't ask you to marry me!"

"Not in so many words…"

"Not in any words."

"Jonas…" Her tone patient, she shook her head slightly and moved to the edge of the mattress, letting her bare legs dangle. Studying his features, she reminded him, "Our first child could already be on his way."

He paled visibly and his eyes widened, displaying a distinct glimmer of panic. Dropping his gaze to her abdomen, he shook his head firmly. He scrubbed both hands across his face as though trying to awaken from a nightmare.

"Jesus," he said, cutting her off before she could speak again. "There's no baby and we're not getting married." His voice steadied some as he added, "You have to understand that, Hannah."

"We are married," she said quickly, with a bit more impatience than she'd wanted to let him hear, "in the eyes of God."

He snorted. "God's had His eyes closed for so long where I'm concerned, you can be sure He wasn't looking tonight, either."

"How can you say that?"

"It's not as hard as you might think," he snapped.

Hannah jumped from the bed, dragging the sheet with her. It was one thing to lay with him, feel his hands on her as they made love. It was quite another to parade around his room trying to argue while naked.