Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(69)

“Looks worse than it feels.”

She didn’t believe him. “We shouldn’t...”

His fingers slipped to her collarbone. She closed her eyes against the ache building inside of her.

“Shouldn’t what?”

“I’ll hurt you if we—”

“No, you won’t.”

“But the cut on your head...the bruises and—”

His hand slipped beneath the flimsy material of her chemise and skimmed the swell of her breast, cutting off her feeble protest. She took in a sharp breath and closed her eyes, letting his touch fill her. The ache at the juncture of her thighs became painful, demanding release. She squirmed slightly, trying to relieve it.

“My head is fine,” he said, pushing the blankets out of the way. “The cuts and bruises look worse than they feel for the most part. Ribs are a bit sore, though. Might want to watch out for those.”

Rachel averted her gaze. “We can’t—”

“Last night, you invited me into your bed.”

Had it only been last night? It felt as if a lifetime had passed between then and now.

She continued staring at the far wall, unable to look down at his nakedness no matter how much she wanted to. She’d already had an eyeful earlier and the effect had yet to wear off. Long lean muscle, smooth skin, tanned in some areas, pale in others. She’d tried to keep a practical mind as she washed his wounds but it had been impossible. He was a fine specimen of a man and, despite her best attempts; she was not immune to his rugged beauty any more then than she was now.

“You turned me down last night, if you’ll recall.”

“With great reluctance,” he countered. “And now, much regret. After nearly being killed this afternoon, I see the error of my ways.”

“And what error would that be?” Her heart pumped faster in her chest.

“The kind of error where I realize life is too transient a thing to waste time denying the fact I am falling for an incredibly beautiful, albeit stubborn, woman. And the idea of not being with you is more painful than anything Kirkpatrick’s men could do to me.”

She dared a quick sideways glance. His eyes flashed with desire strong enough to permeate the low light. She let her gaze drift lower, over the light smattering of hair on his chest, to the ridges on his belly. Then lower still until she realized there were some parts of him completely immune to both the beating he had taken and the whiskey he’d had.

Heat flushed her face.

“Crawl over me.”

His words jerked her gaze back to his. “Crawl...? What?”

“Trust me.” Caleb placed firm hands on her hips and directed her closer.

Rachel let herself be led but shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

He smiled at her and she continued to let him guide her as he pulled her across his groin until she straddled him. Beneath the slit in her drawers she could feel his hardness.

“Makin’ more sense now?”

She nodded, but the knowledge did little to quell the sudden nest of butterflies jumping around in her belly. Nor did it do much to assuage the ache emanating from where their bodies now touched. She squirmed slightly. Caleb’s hands tightened at her hips and he let out a quiet groan.

She froze. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I told you this was a bad idea.” She tried to move off him but he held her firm, his strength, after all he’d been through surprising her.

“Not in the way you think. That was a good kind of hurt.”

She understood his meaning, the pressure of him against her a painful pleasure.

She worried her bottom lip. She was completely out of her element. Her experience in this regard was woefully inadequate. Robert had rarely come to her bed, and when he did, the ensuing event lasted only long enough for him to take his pleasure and leave. She’d never particularly enjoyed the act. It left her dissatisfied, feeling as if she was being shortchanged without fully understanding how or why.

Her lack of knowledge embarrassed her. She’d been married for eight years. It was likely Caleb was expecting a woman with certain skills. He was about to be sorely disappointed in that respect.

“I’m sorry.” Humiliation caused her voice to hitch. “I don’t know what to do.”

Caleb tried to raise his eyebrow but the cut above it made him stop and wince. “At all?”

Was there a more mortifying conversation to have with a man? “I...I know what goes...where. I just...this...” She waved her hands at their bodies, trying to ignore the heat building where they joined. “I don’t know what to do like this.”

“Ah,” he said.

She looked away, unable to stomach the disappointment she knew she’d see in his expression. “I’m sorry. I can get off. You probably don’t want—”