Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(70)

Again he held her firm when she tried to move. “I’ll show you.”





Chapter Eighteen

He smiled at her, and the expression, despite being marred by cuts and swelling, was filled with a gentle compassion that took her breath away.

“The first thing you do is lean down here closer to me.”

She did as he instructed, placing her hands on either side of his head. Their chests were mere inches apart. So close she could feel his body’s warmth reaching out, pulling her in.

“Now what?”

“Now you touch my face.”

Again, Rachel did as he indicated, letting her fingers lightly skim his cheek. The bristle of new whiskers brushed roughly against her skin, sending a riot of sensation up her arm and down into her belly, causing the nest of butterflies to take flight.

“And then?”

The current between them hummed with desire.

“Now you lean down just a little further and kiss me.”

She leaned in, her thick hair falling around them, and gently kissed the corner of his mouth that hadn’t been injured. Caleb remained still as she worked her way across his lips with slow, soft kisses. She’d reached the middle when his tongue flicked out and caught her open mouth. She sucked in a breath of surprise, froze for an instant, then responded in kind, letting her own tongue caress the smoothness of his lips before tentatively delving inside and finding its mate.

She stopped thinking then, about what she did or didn’t know, and let the swirl of emotion and need carry her. She had been wrong. She did know what to do. She just hadn’t known she knew. She gave in to the pleasure, delighting in his touch, the way his hands skimmed her body, slipping beneath her chemise and running along her bare back.

Soon, the kiss was not enough. She needed more. The desire that had been building within her since Caleb had ridden into her life demanded to be set free, and Rachel could no longer deny it. And she didn’t want to.

His touch inflamed her, cutting through the cool air and setting her on fire. She sank into him, rejoicing as she settled her weight upon him, rocking against him, blocking out the pain and loneliness of her past.

He nibbled her neck where her pulse leaped beneath his ministrations. “Should I stop?”

She should tell him yes. She was newly widowed. He was a stranger. But she couldn’t find the words and none of it seemed to apply any more. She had been waiting for this, she realized, since his first touch, the first fiery glance. Everything had been leading up to the inevitability of this moment.

“No. Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

Rachel pressed into him, arching her back. Caleb inhaled sharply.

“Do you know what you do to me?”

She did. She just didn’t believe it. She had been so determined to not turn out like her mother, she had cut off any thoughts about her own desires or the pleasure they could bring, fearful they would turn her into a wanton. With one touch, one kiss, Caleb erased those fears. With him, it felt right, and how could anything feel this right and still be wrong?

She ached everywhere for him.

He reached for the edge of her chemise and pulled it over her head, tossing it aside, leaving only her drawers as a barrier between them.

“Wait,” she whispered, and crawled off him, letting her legs slip over the edge of the bed. Shyness overtook her as she shimmied out of her drawers, and she wished the lamp had been extinguished.

“Lord, you’re beautiful.”

The reverence in Caleb’s tone made her brave. She crawled back onto the bed, settling herself over him. The feel of his hard length, smooth and strong beneath her, sent a shiver through her entire body.

She didn’t want to wait. She wanted him to fill her, to bury himself deep inside of her; her need for him was almost savage in its intensity.

She pressed herself into Caleb, his readiness for her apparent. “Please...”

“There’s no rush, sweetheart.”

But there was. It seemed she had been waiting for this her whole life, the sense that she belonged somewhere, with someone. She was afraid if she didn’t grab it now, it would somehow slip through her fingers.

Caleb’s hands blazed a path along her rib cage, stopping as he reached the curve of her breast. The roughness of his palm against her bare skin made her pulse leap. He pressed a hand against her back, lowering her to him. He pulled her nipple into his mouth, and her breath shattered in her throat. Sensation spiraled through her. His hand slipped from her breast and slowly roamed the contours of her body, over her thighs, along the curve of her hip, around to span her bottom and position her against him.

His hands were everywhere, then his mouth, slowly exploring every inch of her body. Despite his injuries, he made the most of what he could do until Rachel hovered on the precipice of insanity, wanting to dive over the edge and let it swallow her whole. She squirmed, unable to be still, desperate for more. Each small move she made caused him to wince, but she figured out soon enough that it wasn’t from the pain of his wounds.