Mystic Cowboy(39)

His brain was screaming no, no, no, but his body wasn’t paying a lick of attention. Sure, she didn’t speak the language, wanted everyone to get those damned vaccines, and probably still thought he was at least three degrees of nuts.

But she was here. She’d been here for a month. She’d seen the worst of his people up close and deeply personal, and she hadn’t run screaming. Instead, she was hell-bent on making the world a little better.

And she was kissing him back. Not just Jonathan Runs Fast, Traditional Master of Fine Arts, not just some fake Indian god she thought she was worshiping. Just him.

Blue Eye nudged him in the back with enough force that it nearly knocked them both over. “Oh, yeah.” Ornery horse. Who was doing exactly what she needed to. “Can you ride bareback?”

She closed her eyes, took two measured breaths and stepped away from him. Right. Control. She had some to spare. “I probably won’t fall off. Give me a leg up.”

He cupped his hands, and she stepped up and in the blink of an eye, was settling onto Blue Eye’s back like she’d never been away from it. “Interesting,” she murmured, shifting her legs around. “Different.”

He couldn’t help but grin at her. She’d be fine by herself, but he wasn’t going to let her be by herself. With a running start, he leapt up and onto his horse’s back, something he’d been doing since he was six.

“Whoa!” Madeline jumped as he snaked an arm back around that waist. “How the hell did you do that?”

Yeah, she wasn’t the only one who still had a few surprises up her sleeve. “Years of practice. Hold on,” he added, nudging Blue Eye up to a fast walk.

How many times had he done this? Mounted up on Blue Eye in the summer night and ridden around the rez in the dark, finding coyotes on the prowl, buffalo slumbering and owls keeping an eye on him? Hundreds. Thousands, maybe. But with Madeline in his arms, everything was different.

He couldn’t keep his hands out of her hair. It smelled a little of the river, but her own natural musk blended with that to make it something new, something that triggered some primitive part of his brain to want to smell it more. And it felt like raw silk in his hands, soft and smooth with a touch of the texture that made it wrap itself around his fingers like it was alive.

“You like it?” she said, her voice a low whisper.

“Oh, yeah,” was all he could get out as he buried his nose in it. The spring rains, that was what she smelled like. The spring rains soaking into the earth, washing away the grit of a winter spent asleep. Every second with her was like waking up all over again. And he hadn’t even realized he’d been asleep. “Wear it like this. For me.”

And then they were next to her Jeep, and he had her pinned against the door as he tasted that sound she made again, his hands refusing to let go of any single part of her, because every single part of her was right where he wanted it. In his hands. He found her breast again, first one, then the other. As his thumbs traced the outline of hard nipples through the shirt, she shuddered against him. But it wasn’t enough. The woman was more than just what she had up top. And he wanted to know the whole woman.

One hand slipped down between them, down between the intruding zippers and unforgiving denim, down until her hips tilted up for him. His fingers found the warmest, wettest, most secret spot and began to rub. She bucked against him, like a young filly just dying to throw off the new saddle and run free.

“Rebel,” she whispered, grabbing him by the back pockets and holding on for what felt like dear life. His blood pumped faster than a runaway train through his veins as he tried to get closer to all that warmth. “Please.”

Who the hell needed condoms? He was going to lose it right here, right now, and if he was lucky—and he was starting to feel a little bit lucky—she would too. As slow as he could, he put everything he had into rubbing her secret spot.

And then the floodlight hit them.

She let out a muffled scream as he grabbed her and threw her behind his body. The instinct to protect her first was just that—instinct. Save her first. “Who’s there?” he demanded, wishing like all hell he’d grabbed his knife before they left. Blue Eye was suddenly in front of them, her head down and her hoof pawing. Good horse, the rational part of his brain noted. Best I’ve ever owned.

“Hiya, Rebel,” the toneless voice came from behind the floodlight.

“Who is it?” Madeline’s voice was shaking, but not in the good way. Her hands were clamped down onto his arm with enough force to leave marks, but he wasn’t about to shake her off. Not when she needed him.