Saddle Up(37)

His penetration was agonizingly slow as he filled and stretched her. Once fully impaled, he dipped his head for a mind-melting kiss. He followed with a gasp-inducing thrust that sent a jolt of sensation careening to her core. “Oh God,” she moaned. “Do that again.”

He brought her legs tightly around his flanks, retreated a few inches, and thrust again. Harder. Deeper. Pure pleasure made her cry out. He stifled her sounds with another long, lush kiss. Tongues still tangling, he moved inside her again, this time in a slow, sweet, steady cadence. Thrust. Kiss. Thrust. Kiss.

With eyes squeezed shut, she clenched her inner muscles, squeezing and milking him in tempo with his advance and retreat. He grunted, jerking her hips toward him, taking her deeper. Harder.

As their mouths melded, her mind emptied to all but sensation—the sultry, breathless sounds filling the air, the scent of sex teasing her nose, their tangling tongues and the tight, wet friction of him moving deep inside her.

Thrust. Kiss. Slow and steady then hard and deep. Thrust. Kiss. Deeper, harder until her climax surged and swelled like a tsunami, cresting and crashing over her in ceaseless spasms. Pumping madly, Keith brought himself to a swift finish, emptying inside her with a feral cry then collapsing breathlessly beside her.

*

The sun was only beginning to creep through the cracks between the closed drapes when Miranda opened her eyes. Carefully, she rolled onto her side to study Keith, who lay on his back, sprawled like a king. He’d flung the covers aside during the night, or maybe they’d never covered up at all. She could hardly recall anything now beyond the mind-blowing orgasms. Her insides clenched reflexively at the memory of him moving inside her.

She still didn’t know what to think about this thing between them. All of it had happened so unexpectedly, from the coincidental meeting to the combustive chemistry. He was so different now from the man she’d first seen in California, and even from the one she’d met only two days ago. The brooding warrior had all but vanished. The man taking his place was warm and tender and teasing—and she was falling hard. He’d said that it was more than just a hookup, but where did they go from here? In the light of day, it seemed far too much like a fantastical journey to nowhere.

His breathing was still slow, steady, and even. She allowed herself the luxury of studying him in his full naked glory, eating him up with hungry eyes. Reaching out with an index finger, she traced the wings of the tribal eagle tattoo covering his right shoulder.

He stirred in his sleep. The sheet slid completely away. Her gaze lingered in awe on his manhood: long, thick, purple headed, and erect. Very erect. Unable to resist the temptation, she wrapped her hand around him, but before she could do anything more, Keith’s eyes snapped open.

His hand came over hers with a mumbled curse He brought it to his mouth and kissed it. “As much as I want to, Aiwattsi, we can’t. I still have a job to do. We should have been up and out of here an hour ago.”

“I understand.” Her gaze slid away. “All good things must come to an end, right?”

He reached for her, cupping her chin. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. Honestly. I knew how it would be.” Her heart gave a wrench as the glib words stumbled over her tongue. She’d worried that it would be awkward between them afterward, but Keith maintained his easy manner from the night before. She knew she wasn’t the type for this kind of thing. The thought of parting hurt like hell, but she still couldn’t regret it. If given the option of a do over, she’d do it all again. In a heartbeat.

Her fascination with him had only grown with the hours they’d spent together. The real Keith was not only naturally charismatic, but personable, knowledgeable, and confident. It was easy to see why women had flocked to him—a pang of undeniable jealousy accompanied that thought, and then a hollow ache took its place.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She was half in love with a guy she’d never see again.

*

After catching a quick shower and dressing, Keith and Miranda headed out of Reno, stopping only long enough to drive through Starbucks for two Ventis before tracking back to Palomino Valley, where he loaded up the horses to be transported to the prison.

When they arrived at the prison, Miranda stayed in the background with her camera, out of sight maybe, but never out of his mind. Just being with her felt so good and right, as if she brought his world back into balance. He’d been with a lot of different women, but last night was unique in so many ways. How could he ever explain that? And even harder, how was he going to let go of it? Anything more than what they’d already shared was impossible. They were from separate worlds, and hers was everything he’d vowed to leave behind.

“You see that one over there?” An inmate named Jim Davies nudged him back to the present. Jim nodded to a flashy black-and-white pinto. With head held high, neck arched, and nostrils flared, the horse glared at several inmates sitting on the corral panel, watching him watch them. The men snickered and poked one another in the ribs, either taking bets or making dares. After a time, one of them spat a wad of chew, then climbed down from the corral panel. Eying him with suspicion, the horse blew a loud warning snort that he followed with a rebellious toss of his mane.

“Easy, ol’ son.” With one palm outstretched, the inmate tentatively approached the animal. As he moved forward, the horse bared his teeth.

“Watch you don’t lose an ear,” one of the inmates jeered.