Cactus Flower (Gone-to-Texas Trilogy) (26 page)

      
“From all the way down the hall?” he shot back dubiously.

      
“I couldn't sleep. I was just going to get something to eat.” Realizing what it looked like, walking up to a naked man's bed in her thin silk wrapper, she blushed furiously, then cursed herself for getting into such a predicament. “Cover up before you catch your death,” she added crossly, reaching down for the sheet lying on the floor.

      
He still did not relinquish his hold on her wrist. “It's warm enough, Charlee,” he said softly. “I don't need the cover. Just how long did you plan to stand there gawking before you left?”

      
She let a seething hiss of breath escape as she tried in vain to jerk free of his grasp. “You vain, presumptuous peacock! Let me go or I'll poleax you, you bastard!” As she thrashed to get free, her voice was rising dangerously loud.

      
He laughed. “Now that's the Charlee we all know and love. Genteel to the end.”

      
Just then she spit out another oath and tried to push away from him, only to have her elbow inadvertently connect with his injured side. He let out a strangled gasp of pain and swore in a colorful mixture of Spanish and English, releasing her and doubling up while lying on his side.

      
“Oh, Jim, I'm sorry! Are you hurt?” She knelt by the bedside and reached out to touch his arm gently.

      
“I was shot this morning, if you recall—damn yes, I'm hurt!” He swore another string of invectives and rolled onto his back.

      
“Let me check the bandaging and see if you've started bleeding again.” She sat up on the bed once more and leaned over him, intent on looking at his wound.

      
As she gently loosened the thick wrapping, she leaned forward. Slade felt her hair, gloriously unbound, trail onto his chest like tickling strands of silk. Her wrapper had come undone in their struggle, but she seemed unaware of it. He saw the soft swell of breasts, straining against the sheer white silk of her night rail. In vain, he sought to concentrate on his pain, on the rustling night sounds from the cottonwoods, the wail of a stray dog, anything but Charlee's soft hands on his body, the faint wildflower fragrance of her.

      
As she touched him, Charlee knew her fingers must be clumsy with her trembling. She took a steadying breath and said, “Well, you're not bleeding, thank God.”

      
As she replaced the bandage and refastened it, she dared not meet his burning eyes, which she knew were riveted on her. He reached up with one hand and ran it lightly across her collarbone, then down the slope of her breast. With a gasp she realized that her robe was open. As she jerked back, she felt the swollen proof of his maleness, hot yet velvety.

      
His trespassing hand continued its path around her breasts, first one, then the other, and she felt a familiar tightening of her nipples. His other hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head down to where his lips were beckoning. She did not resist but hypnotically pressed her mouth over his. He teased with his tongue and parted her lips. His tongue darted in and traced circles on the roof of her mouth, then insinuated itself around her own, drawing it back into his mouth.

      
Jim could feel her trembling, feel her small hands run up his chest, caressing the thick hair, curving over the muscles of his shoulders, clinging. He began to peel off her robe.

      
When he broke the joining of the kiss and trailed soft wet licks and gentle bites down her throat, she gasped out, “Don't, please, Jim, ooh...you'll hurt yourself...start bleeding.”

      
“You just said I'm not bleeding, but I do ache, for you, woman, for you,” he growled roughly. “Let me love you, Charlee,” he added more gently. He never slowed his assault on her senses, all the while kissing her breasts and tracing delicate patterns across them with his tongue. His hot, wet mouth burned through the sheer silk of the night rail, while his hand continued to pull the robe down, freeing one of her arms, then the other. Like a sleepwalker, she cooperated, letting him slip the long sleeves off and discard the robe until she was sitting on its crumpled length, clad only in her gossamer gown.

      
“You are so tiny and perfect,” he groaned against her throat, pulling her closer to him and feeling her respond. He ran his hand down her back, across the tops of her small silky buttocks, then down one thigh and back up between her legs. She gasped and let out a whimper of surrender. “Stand up and take off that gown for me,” he breathed into her neck. She hesitated and he kissed her throat once more, murmuring, “It's only fair, you know. You can see all of me. Let me see all of you, my beautiful little darling. Please.”

      
His hands reached around her waist and urged her gently off the bed, where she was half sitting, half lying over him. She stood up on shaky legs, weak as a newborn foal, quickly sliding the sheer piece of silk over her head, tossing it carelessly to the floor in one graceful motion. He reached up for her and clasped her hands in his, holding her poised at the edge of the bed for a moment, his eyes devouring her sleek, slim curves. She met his gaze boldly, unashamedly reveling in being female and being desired.

      
A strong new sense of confidence and purpose suffused her as she feasted her eyes on the man before her. Her eyes were smoky with passion, darkened and glowing as she came into his embrace, wordlessly surrendering to him, making a vow to herself. He wanted her now. She would make him want her always.

      
Jim ran his hands over her delicate body, marveling anew at such perfection in miniature. What was it about this child-woman, contentious, wild and headstrong, the opposite of every ideal and value he held about the lady he had thought to wed, what was it that drew him so irresistibly to her, over and over? He knew he had never, even in his most infatuated youth, desired Sina this way.

      
Feverishly, he caressed her, feeling every silky inch of her flesh, forcing himself to go slow this time, to take her all the way with him. Her own busy little hands and mouth were driving him wild with her spontaneous, untutored responses. “Shh...love, we have all night,” he crooned, slowing her hungry movements. Careful to favor his injured side, he rolled himself up and half over her, reversing their earlier positions.

      
He used his fingers to spread the masses of her long gleaming hair over the pillow like a silk fan, all the while kissing her temples and eyelids, then trailing soft, wet caresses down her throat and over each aching, pointed little breast. When she writhed and moaned, thrusting them eagerly into his mouth, he suckled them, using his teeth and tongue to tease and pleasure. His hand traveled lower, over her belly and hip. Soon his questing mouth followed in a scorching path.

      
He held up one little leg by its fragile ankle and nibbled on her instep. When she let out a soft gasp of unexpected pleasure, he continued by tracing the curve of her calf with his lips, licking the tender skin behind her knee, then moving to her inner thigh, only to repeat the process with her other leg, until he had her writhing in a need as desperate as his own.

      
Still he held back, gripping her slim little hips firmly with his hands, leaning down slowly, first breathing into the curling triangle of tan silk, tantalizing her until she cried out. He reached one hand up and placed his fingertips softly over her lips to silence her, then lowered his mouth once more into the wet, honeyed and eager core of her. He could feel her convulsive trembling as he licked and stroked softly, skillfully, waiting patiently to feel her crest of passion. It did not take long.

      
Charlee lay with legs spread, back arched, head tossing from side to side, mindlessly awash in a strange blending of pleasure and need. She wanted it never to end, she hungered for something more, alternately torn in ecstasy, in need. Then with a startled gasp she stiffened, feeling the shock waves ripple through her in sharp spasms.

      
Jim held her, reaching up to embrace her and kiss her lips, whispering into her ear soft love words in English and Spanish. “I owed you that one, little Cat Eyes.” He pressed her against him full length and felt her resurging awareness of her surroundings, of him.

      
Charlee clung mindlessly to him, raining feverish, grateful kisses over his face, neck and shoulders, running her hands up and down his arms. As breath and sanity returned, she realized he was as yet unfulfilled, holding her close, his hips gently, rhythmically thrusting against her own with the hard shaft of his desire straining between her legs.

      
Experimentally, she ran her hand down over his hard thigh, then back to the core of him, grasping the phallus securely. She was rewarded with a deep groan and a deepening kiss. His hot shaft felt wonderfully alive in her hand, and she realized the desperate mindless craving she had felt earlier was reciprocal. Now, he needed her in that same primeval way. Before she could carry this new thought any further, he let out a sharp breath of pain-pleasure and grasped her busy little fingers, prying them away from their newly discovered delight.

      
“Lord, woman, what you do to me,” he gasped as he levered himself up and over her, spreading her legs and thrusting inside her. He felt her stiffen for an instant, knowing she recalled her first clumsy initiation. But that remembered pain was quickly forgotten as she received him full length in a warm rush of pleasure. She arched up to meet his second thrust. Once more, he gentled her with his hands, slowing them to steady, even strokes, keeping a narrow edge of control over his own passion while he incited her once more to a blinding pitch of need to match his own.

      
Finally, sensing that she was nearing the brink, he increased his rhythm to the frenzied, ecstatic thrusts of their first mating. But this time as he trembled and convulsed, she joined him, clinging and shivering, crying out his name, just as he murmured hers. Realizing that his weight was an uncomfortable burden, Slade rolled off Charlee as soon as he could regain his breath and composure. As he lay back across the bed, he pulled her slight form with him, nestling her against his uninjured side. She nuzzled his neck and beard-roughened cheek.

      
She lay in the crook of his arm with his fingertips lightly grazing her shoulder, gently, peacefully caressing her. He was content in knowing that this time he had brought her pleasure equal to his own. Satiated, exhausted, and weak from his injury, he was badly in need of some sleep.

      
Charlee lay quiescent, her body still singing from the magic he had wrought on her, yet desperately wanting something more—the spoken words, the commitment from him that she had vowed to have. Silently, she willed him to speak but he did not.

      
All at once, she realized what it must have cost him, with a newly stitched gash in his side, to go through all the wild exertion of making love. “Are you bleeding? Here, let me see the bandage.” Deftly, she began to examine his side as he let out a weary chuckle.

      
“Isn't this where you came in?”

      
“Don't be crude.”

      
“Ouch! Damn, that aches now,” he hissed, tightening his abdominal muscles as she rebandaged him.

      
“I can't imagine why,” she whispered dryly. “I'll get you some laudanum from the kitchen.”

      
“No, all I need is to get some sleep.” He pulled her down beside him and proceeded to do just that.

      
Sighing, she stretched one arm over the bedside for the wayward sheet and covered them, content for now just to lie with him.

* * * *

      
Feeling the heat of the early morning sun pouring through her bedroom window, Charlee awakened at daybreak. She felt another source of heat as well, the very warm, solid flesh of the man who slept peacefully beside her, with one arm beneath her neck and the other draped possessively across her breasts. One long hairy leg was flung carelessly over her. She studied his naked body and unshaven face in the golden light. Even with those magnetic eyes closed, he looked like a lean jungle cat, a predator, tawny and sleek.

      
Taking care not to awaken him, she gently disengaged herself and slid from the bed. She must be dressed and out of here, with all evidence of her presence erased before Deborah or anyone in the boardinghouse found out. After sliding into her robe and gathering up her night rail, she quickly scanned the room for any other evidence. None was present save for the faint essence of her perfume and the mellow, musky scent of male and female sweat commingled in lovemaking. With a sigh, she turned to leave, then on sudden impulse bent down and gave Slade a light, brushing kiss before she fled the room.

      
It took only twenty minutes to bathe, dress, and get to the kitchen, where she and Sadie prepared a hearty breakfast for the boarders. If the old cook noticed a new sparkle in Charlee's green eyes or a flush to her cheeks, she said nothing.

      
Once the food was on the dining room table, nearly two dozen hungry people enjoyed buckwheat pancakes and molasses, crisp bacon, and hot black coffee.

      
Charlee went to the kitchen and fixed a tray for herself and Slade, nervously anticipating their next meeting. All her confidence, engendered and emboldened by passion, evaporated in the harsh light of morning. He had seduced her once again, but still had made no vows of love. Yet, as she recalled his tenderness, the slow, careful way he had held his own passion in check while bringing her such unimaginable pleasure, Charlee could not help but feel that he did care for her a great deal. She carried the tray upstairs, humming determinedly.