Breathless(47)
They reached the falls. Leaving their horses, they walked to the edge of the canyon. The sounds of the rushing water cascading over the lip of the rock face to the pool below filled the silence.
“Shall we sit?” he asked.
She nodded and led him to a log nearby. Of course the surroundings reminded her of the first time he kissed her, but she did her best to set that aside for the moment.
“So, what’s inside you that’s keeping you from starting your business?”
The question surprised her. “Why do you think it’s something inside me?”
“Because on the outside you’re tough enough to walk on water, so it must be something inside.”
How does he know me so well? “You won’t laugh?”
“Of course not.”
“I’m afraid.” She quickly glanced over to gauge his reaction but as always he met her eyes steadily.
“That’s honest. What scares you?”
“That I won’t be taken seriously because I can’t write my name in the snow.”
He stared and then laughed so loud he startled nearby birds into flight. “Where on earth did you learn that?” He thought back on all the snow-writing contests he’d participated in as boy.
“Old Man Blanchard, but don’t tell Eddy. She’d be appalled.”
“And well she should be. You’re outrageous, woman.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Their smiles met and unsaid words lingered and mingled. Portia thought he might kiss her, but he instead said, “I’ve known some pretty strong women and you rank right up there with the best. Fear is natural but you get on the bronc anyway, and if it throws you, you keep getting up and getting back on, okay?”
She nodded. She knew he was right because it was something she’d been telling herself all along, but for some reason, hearing him voice it seemed to douse the doubts that had kept her from moving forward.
“Good girl. Now, come, let’s find a place with a bit more cover so I can give you your reward.” Taking her hand, he led her deeper into the trees.
The kiss that followed was gentle at first, an opening refrain of soft, sweet sweeps of his lips over hers that made the embers left from their last encounter flare to life. With each passing moment the intensity rose, heating her senses, making her lips part, urging her to get closer. He obliged and she wrapped her arms around him and thrilled to his groan of approval as their bodies met. He moved his lips to her throat above the bandana and tugged it free to give him access to the soft scented skin beneath. The distant sound of the waterfall matched the rush of her blood. Bold as ever he tugged her shirt free of her denims and slid his hands beneath. His warm palms worked over the band of silk binding her breasts and he whispered heatedly, “One day, soon, I’m going to have you naked except for this silk so I can show you exactly what it does to me.”
The potent promise set off a shiver of excitement that radiated from the deep wanting between her thighs and spread like flame through her limbs. Her buttons were undone and when he brushed the halves open and took a silk-shrouded nipple gently between his teeth, she crooned aloud. His fingers played with the other while he fed and licked, and her breath stacked in her throat.
“Pull the silk down, Duchess. Show me what my loving has done to you. Let me see how tight and hard you are.”
The raw request sent the flame soaring. Looking into his passion-hardened eyes, she unveiled herself and he stroked a slow circle around each aching bud. “Do you want me to make them harder, Duchess?”
Her back braced against a tree, Portia could barely stand due to the storm whirling inside. He leaned down and kissed her mouth possessively. “You have to say ‘please,’ darlin’.”
Not wanting him to stop, she breathed, “Please . . .”
He treated her to a silent, wicked loving that left her gasping and arching into his masterful mouth. His palms slid up and down her bared sides, learning her, branding her, and slid behind to the skin above the waistline of her denims and down to cup her behind to bring her flush against the hard ridge that made him male. He raised his mouth to hers once more while that part of him moved wantonly against her. “Feel what you do to me, Duchess.”
She did and, unable to resist the call, pressed herself closer, teased her tongue against the corners of his lips and moved her hips in sensual response. The contact gathered inside like thunderclouds and she lowered her hand to him. At her touch, he hissed a sharp intake of breath and covered her hand with his to show her what he wanted. Seeing and feeling what it did to him filled her with a surge of power, so she let him guide her for a few intense moments more only to have him abruptly pull away. Breathing harshly, passion glittering in his dark eyes, he turned his back and uttered a curse. “Close your blouse, Duchess.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
He shook his head and whispered “Lord” hoarsely before saying, “No, baby. But you’re an eyelash away from having your first time on a bunch of pine needles and tree roots. I respect you more than that.”
“But—”
“Close your blouse.”
Desire was still rampaging like a firestorm through her blood in tandem with an ache between her thighs. “And suppose I do want my first time—”
He shot her a quelling look that silenced her completely. “Fine,” she snapped. Angry now, she forced her fingers to do up her buttons and stuffed her shirt tail back into her denims. “I’m ready to go back.”