Nan Ryan (24 page)

“Kiss me, Fontaine,” Lew said, looking up at her, his muscular arm tightening around her waist. She leaned down as he lifted his head. Their lips met and blended in a warm, sweet kiss that left her cheeks flushed. Lew lay back down and his hand began to move caressingly over her back. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said. “Don’t you have any flaws, sweetheart?”

“What do you mean?” She drew a shallow breath when the lean fingers that were roaming so enticingly over her back snagged a puffed sleeve and tugged until it slipped down her arm, leaving her shoulder bare.

“I mean you’re exquisite, perfect. Are you perfect all over?”

Mollie blushed in the moonlight. “I … I don’t know.”

Lew slowly eased himself up until he was seated facing her, his arm braced across her, palm spread on the ground. His unblinking gaze on the pale swell of her breasts, he languidly pushed down the other puffed sleeve. His voice low, soft, he said, “I’ll bet your body is sheer unadulterated splendor. No imperfections of any kind.”

Mollie’s heart stood still for a minute when he slowly bent his dark head and kissed her in the warm, shadowy spot between her breasts. And as he kissed her, he urged the slipping bodice of her yellow-and-white dress even lower, exposing her throat, her pale shoulders, and the swelling tops of her breasts. Only the shy pink nipples that were rapidly growing taut remained concealed.

“I told you once that I would kiss you right here,” he said, his lips moving stirringly against her tingling flesh, his face pressed into the valley between her perfumed breasts. One of his hands cupped a bare shoulder, the other settled on her waist.

“You … must … stop …, Lew.” Mollie murmured, but she didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.

She didn’t really want him to stop. She wanted him to keep on kissing her just the way he was kissing her. It felt wonderful and she loved it and she hoped he would never, ever stop. She sat there in the moonlight leaning back on stiffened arms, enjoying to the fullest Lew’s heated lips moving so seductively on flesh no other had ever seen or touched.

When at last he raised his dark head and their eyes met, Mollie drew a shallow breath and trembled. But she sighed when he pulled her into his embrace, urging her head back against his supporting arm and bending to her.

His lips lowering to hers, he said, “Baby, you’re so sweet, so perfect.”

His kisses were tender, gentle, devastatingly persuasive. Enthralled, Mollie leaned back in his arms and shivered from the exquisite pleasure he seemed so intent on giving to her. She knew that she had aroused a fierce passion in him, and having all that leashed power beneath her hands sent shock waves of delight through her.

It was absolutely glorious to have his blazing hot lips tasting hers sweetly, patiently. Tonight they had all the time in the world, and she could lie here in his arms savoring his kisses for as long as she pleased.

Sensitive to her wish that he take it slow and easy, Lew continued to kiss her lightly, warmly, his mouth paying sweet homage to hers. His lips teased, tasted, adored until he heard her sighs grow louder and she began to press her slender body closer to his. At once he could feel her diamond-hard nipples through the fabric of his shirt.

He groaned and deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth to mate with hers. Instinctively, Mollie sucked at his tongue, and their caresses changed swiftly into deep, probing kisses of such force and urgency that they shifted frantically, trying to get closer together, their pressing bodies as hungry as their burning lips.

Lew’s hand impatiently moved to the swell of Mollie’s breasts, and his callused thumb went to a hardened nipple to circle it through the covering fabric of her dress. An involuntary tremor swept through Mollie, and Lew immediately lifted his head to look at her. Her face was tilted up to his and the moonlight was kissing her just as he’d been kissing her.

She was beauty unblemished.

All that a man ever dreamed of in a woman was here in the moonlight before him. Trembling, he eased her up with him until they were kneeling facing each other. He kissed her open lips again, then, looking directly into her flashing violet eyes, he caught the frilly edge of her plunging bodice between two fingers and slowly lowered it until her bare left breast spilled out, pale and luminous in the moonlight.

Her eyes never wavering from his, Mollie helplessly emitted a little gasp of wonder when his warm hand closed gently over the naked breast and he again bent and kissed her, drinking from her open lips as though his thirst for her would never be quenched. When his mouth finally left hers and his lips slipped down over her chin to her throat, Mollie threw her head back. She stared straight up at the moon and exhaled deeply as his masterful, marvelous mouth moved unerringly down her throat and over the swell of her breast to the aching nipple he’d uncovered.

But her head bowed to gaze down at him when his hot, plucking lips enclosed that pulsing point of sensation and tugged provocatively, drawing on her eagerly, sending messages throughout her tingling body the kind of which it had never before received.

“Lew,” she whispered breathlessly, “oh, Lew.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, his lips never fully releasing her throbbing nipple.

His mouth hotly enclosing her breast, he sucked vigorously on the erect nipple until Mollie’s slender back was arched stiffly and her hands were anxiously gripping his dark moving head. Weak with desire, she eagerly pressed herself to his dazzling mouth and wondered why—when it was her nipple he kissed—there was a deep throbbing in her lower belly that was part pain, part pleasure. It was if she could feel the incredible heat of his lips and mouth between her legs.

Lew gave her nipple one final sucking kiss and, with an economy of motion, gently took her arm and turned her about so that he was kneeling behind her. Mollie, knowing his intent, sagged willingly back against him, a foolish smile on her face. Her dress opened down the back; he was going to take it off. And she was going to let him.

Lew’s arms went around Mollie. His hand warmly cupped her bared breast. His gentle fingers caressed the wet nipple while he pressed kisses to the side of her neck and murmured the foolish, forbidden words of passion no woman can resist.

“You’re mine, sweetheart, all mine. I want you, baby. I want you so badly I can’t stand it any longer. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you. You’re so sweet, so incredibly beautiful, I want to kiss you all over. Let me, baby. Let me undress you and hold you naked in my arms.” His fiery lips nibbled at the curve of her neck and shoulder, thrilling her, igniting her. “We have all night, sweetheart. Let me make love to you.” His lips slid up, his tongue touched the pulse beneath her ear. “I want to kiss your toes and the dimples behind your knees.” Mollie shuddered against him. “I do, baby. I want to kiss you until there’s no spot left on your beautiful body unkissed.”

On fire, swept away on a rising tide of passion, Mollie longed to have him kiss all the places he promised. She could only whisper his name and hope he knew she meant yes. Yes, yes, yes.

Lew’s hands went to the buttons at the back of her dress. His heart pounding, fingers shaking, he released the first of the four buttons from its tiny buttonhole. Wildly aroused by this highly desirable woman, Lew prayed silently that the beautiful blond temptress kneeling before him, allowing him to undress her, was really Fontaine Gayerre. Nothing would make him happier. The fragrance of her hair, the soft skin beneath his trembling hands, the sweet, sweet kisses—all combined to make the blood beat and rush through his body. The words he’d whispered were true. He desired her as he had never desired another woman. He yearned to do just as he promised—to undress her totally and then kiss her warm bare body until she was begging him to take her.

The second button came undone.

Lew was now so hot for her he only hoped he could be gentle. He wasn’t sure he could. He didn’t want to frighten her. If she really was Fontaine Gayerre, then he felt sure she was a virgin. If that were the case, he would have to go slowly and keep his raging passion in check.

The third button was released.

Lew was breathing through his mouth now as his heart thumped so violently against his chest it was painful. But not as painful as the throbbing tumescence straining the fabric of his tight trousers. His swollen groin ached with his urgent need, and he knew that in this willing girl lay sweet release.

Button number four slipped through its buttonhole.

Every nerve and muscle in his body tensed, Lew slowly pushed the opened dress apart. His stiffened fingers curling down inside the elastic waistband of her silky underwear, he dragged the lace-trimmed pantalets down below her waist.

A soft groan of despair broke from his tight lips.

There at the top of one creamy buttock—a perfectly shaped butterfly. His throat closed. He felt sick. His vision blurred.

Foolishly, he said, “What is this, sweetheart? Did you hurt yourself?”

Mollie’s soft laughter told him of his folly. “No, silly. That’s my birthmark. A butterfly. No one’s ever seen it but you. Well, my mama and papa.”

Lew stared at the damning birthmark. Disbelief gave way to bitter disappointment, then to anger, and finally to cold wrath. He touched the wine-colored imperfection and felt his fury mount with the realization that he still wanted her. At least his body wanted hers, needed hers, craved what she could give him. Teeth clamped down tight, a muscle spasming in his jaw, Lew Hatton knelt there in the moonlight behind the half-dressed Mollie battling with himself.

He was tempted to go ahead and strip her clothes away. To push her over onto the blanket and quickly take her for his own base pleasure. What difference would it make? Why not wait until after he’d spent himself in her to tell her he knew who she was?

Lew shook his head, disgusted with himself. He couldn’t do it. Even he wasn’t that big of a bastard.

“Lew,” Mollie said nervously over her shoulder, “you’re not … repulsed by my birthmark, are you? You still think I’m pretty, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice oddly distant, “I still think you’re pretty.”

“I want to be pretty for you, Lew.”

He made no reply. His hands moved up to cup her shoulders, then slipped down her arms. He covered her hands with his own. Trusting him completely, Mollie simply sighed when he drew her arms behind her and held both her hands in one of his.

Lew reached into his saddlebags.

The steel handcuffs gleamed in the moonlight. Lew bit his bottom lip until it bled.

The sound reverberated throughout the steep-sided canyon when he swiftly snapped the handcuffs around her fragile wrists, saying, “Sorry, Mollie.”

His bloodshot blue eyes were half-shut with
fatigue. He pulled his stiff-brimmed Stetson lower against the sun’s punishing glare. His head ached dully, and the center of his back—between his shoulder blades—felt as though a sharp knife were sticking out of it. His chambray shirt was soaked with sweat and covered with grime and the potent scent of his own unwashed body was strong in his nostrils.

He rubbed gingerly at the beard-stubbled jaw that was still uncomfortably sore after three days. Then he looked back over his shoulder at the fiercely belligerent woman responsible for the pain. She was mounted on a dun stallion, her cuffed hands resting on the saddle horn. She was far too stubborn to wear a hat, so her fair face was badly sunburned and her lips were chapped and cracked. Her unkempt blond hair lay in perspiration-dampened tangles around her neck and shoulders. She was half-asleep in the saddle, her head bowed with weariness.

But it slowly raised as she sensed him looking back at her. Her chin jutted pugnaciously when their gazes clashed and in her violet eyes hatred blazed.

A chill of uneasiness shot up Lew’s spine as he turned back around. His own eyes shuttering with hostility, he resisted the impulse to grind his teeth. He had unthinkingly done so a time or two in the past three days and he’d paid dearly. It had caused his sore jaw to throb violently, had sent waves of pain up through his cheekbone to his ear.

Lew shook his head tiredly.

He had to hand it to the woman; she was just as wild and mean and hard to handle as had been reported. A good thing he’d had the cuffs that night, he reflected dryly, recalling the bitter struggle that had ensued when he had clasped the steel bracelets on her wrists in Cholla Canyon.

It had taken her a moment to realize what had happened. That moment had seemed a lifetime to Lew. When the handcuffs had snapped into place, he had held his breath and waited, while Mollie, not fully aware of what was happening, slowly turned to look over her shoulder at him, an expression of bewilderment on her face.

“You!” she said finally and before he could respond, she shot to her feet and whirled around, understanding and anger flashing in her eyes. “It’s you!” she shrieked. “The bounty hunter!”

Still on his knees, Lew nodded resolutely. “I’m taking you to Denver, Miss Rogers.” He started to rise.

That’s when she got him. “You’re taking me nowhere, you bastard!” she shouted and kicked him full in the face.