Give Me Tonight(101)

As she schemed on how to find time alone with Ben, Addie realized the answer was ridiculously sim­ple. Why not just walk out of the house and go to his cabin? No complicated tiptoeing around the halls at midnight, no whispered plans of how or when they could meet. Just sneak out after dinner. As the family ate heartily, she picked at her food, unable to chew and swallow when her mind was preoccupied with the night to come. She could feel Ben's eyes on her often, and she knew he'd noticed the hint of tension in her face. She could feel the warm blood in her cheeks and wondered if her color was high. Before the meal was finished, she pushed back from the table.

"I'm a little tired," she said in response to May's questioning glance. "I believe I'll retire early to­night." Ben's gaze sought and found hers, and she saw the concern in his eyes. It was unusual behavior for her, and he suspected something was wrong.

"Addie—" he started, and she interrupted him gently.

"I'll see all of you tomorrow morning. Good night." As she left the room, she could feel Ben's eyes boring into her back. Pausing at the foot of the stairs, she waited until the sound of conversation resumed. Then she slipped out the front door. It was still too early for Robbie Keir, the boy who had been assigned to patrol around the house, to begin his watch.

Addie looked right and left before sneaking across the shoit distance to Ben's cabin, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Triumphantly she reached the door and slipped inside, her heart thumping with excitement. She had no idea how she'd get back to her own room before morning without being discovered. Ben would have to figure it out.

Leisurely she moved around the cabin, finding it immaculate and sparsely furnished. The bed was nar­row, with a hard, thin mattress, but it was covered with an intricately woven Indian blanket, and the sheets and pillowcase were snowy white. Since Ben did most of his paperwork in Russell's office, the small desk in here was bare except for a few books. She looked through them and discovered a thin volume of Shakespeare, a biography of Thomas Jefferson, a book on stock raising, and a report from a livestock journal about cattle transportation. How very boring, she thought, and smiled, reflecting that he probably didn't have that much time to read anyway. His guitar was propped up in one shadowy comer, a bootjack tucked into another. Wandering over to the bed, Addie settled down on the mattress and keeled over, burying her face in the pillow. It was scented of him, and she rubbed her cheek into it luxuriously, closing her eyes.

In spite of her anticipation, Addie fell into a shallow sleep until she was alerted by the sound of footsteps. The door was opened and she sat up, blinking as Ben entered the room.

To see Addie curled up kittenishly on his bed, sleepy-eyed and tousle-haired, was the last thing he expected. He stopped in his tracks as he looked at her, his green eyes widening as they moved from her tum­bling honey-brown hair to her disheveled dress. Stunned, he could do nothing but stand there and stare.

"I don't believe you're here," he said, sounding bemused.

"I wanted you," she said, pushing a lock of hair away from her eyes. "At least say you're glad I'm here."

"Glad?" he repeated thickly. In a fraction of a sec­ond he reached the bed and scooped her up, sitting down with her in his lap. He kissed her hungrily, steal­ing her breath away, and his lips moved down her throat. Clumsily he fumbled with the buttons of her dress. Reaching up to help him, Addie unfastened her bodice, and with each new inch of smooth skin revealed, his greedy kisses ventured lower.

"Was it a good idea for me to sneak over here?" she asked breathlessly, running her fingers through his hair.

His arms wrapped around her, and he engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug. "It was inspired," he said, burying his face in his throat. In a flurry of passion they talked at the same time, not bothering to take turns or even finish sentences.

"I've missed you so much—"

"Not half as much as I—"

"And every time I turn around, you're more beau­tiful than a minute ago—"

"All I can think about is you—"

"How do you get this off?" he demanded, searching for the hooks of her chemise, and before she could show him, he ripped the thin material straight down the front.

"Ben," she protested, torn between laughter and protest, and gasped as his lips moved over her br**sts. His mouth fastened over an aching nipple, tugging gently. Moaning, she tilted her head back and arched up to him, her body on fire. There was a tremor in the arms that held her.

"It's been so long," she whispered.

"Forever."

Feverishly she worked at the buttons on his shirt while he reached under her skirts and stripped off her stockings. His hand ventured up to her knee, but her pantalets prevented him from exploring further.

"I've been going crazy," he muttered in the under­-curve of her breast. "Wanting you, and seeing you every day, and not being able to have you—"

"Make love to me," she interrupted. "Quickly." He half-laughed, half-groaned, lowering her to the mattress. In a few violent tugs he removed his boots and stripped off his shirt, then turned to help Addie wriggle out of her dress.   

Impatiently he tossed the clothes to the floor and bent over her body. She pulled his head down to her br**sts, purring as he kissed her, his tongue stroking lightly, sensitive to her every response. His warm palms brushed over her thighs, starting at the outsides, moving to the inner curves, and then his hand was between her legs. His breathing deepened as the wet sheath of her contracted around his fingers.