Page 38 of Gentle Persuasion

Her eyes were closed as she drifted, lost inside herself at the emotions swamping her. Cole gritted his teeth, felt himself losing control, and made one last effort to prolong the ecstasy.

“Lady…”

His agonized whisper brought her back in an instant. She looked up into a black passion and tried to smile. But the feelings were too strong, and she turned loose of the pool and grabbed onto him as he took them down.

She burst from the inside out. Bubbles of pleasure shot out in jet strength to every nerve ending and then drifted lazily throughout her limbs, making her bone-weak and unable to stand.

Cole felt himself die as he emptied inside her. Sinking and sighing, shuddering with a surfeit of passion, he held her tight and took them back to the top with his last ounce of strength.

They burst through the surface, taking in air, holding onto each other, because alone, neither of them would have been strong enough to stand.

They stared long and hard into each other’s eyes while their breathing returned to normal and sanity regained its rightful place in their world. But nothing would ever again be the same. They’d crossed over a boundary into uncharted waters. Cole watched the slow smile spreading on her face.

“What?” he asked gently as he bent down and tasted the smile. It was warmer than he’d expected. He smoothed hair and water from her eyes and blessed the corner of her lips with a kiss.

Debbie returned the favor, drinking from the droplets that lingered on his mouth. Letting her tongue rasp over the beard-roughened jaw clenching at her touch. She was tasting and savoring the texture of her man.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” she asked.

His arms tightened around her. His body was already reminding him that he’d only gotten a taste of what he still hungered for.

“I know what this means to me,” he growled. “I’ve marked you, woman. You may not see it, and you may not be able to feel it, but you’ve just been branded as thoroughly as those calves were at the Longren Ranch.”

“You’re wrong,” Debbie whispered as her hands slid down his body and encompassed that which was already changing again. “I can see and feel just fine.” She taunted him mercilessly with a gentle upward thrust. “But there’s something you haven’t realized.”

“What?” he moaned as her hands slid up and down the growing length of him. He was desperately trying to concentrate on her words when all he wanted was to concentrate on the mass of feelings she was erecting inside him.

“I won’t let you go, Cole Brownfield. Not now. Not ever again. You made the decision for both of us tonight. You belong to me, just as surely as I belong to you.”

God help us! Then all prayer was lost as Cole swept her from the water before she drowned them both. Somehow they made it to his room, clothes in hand. He dropped his gun in a drawer and their clothes on the floor. He couldn’t think past the woman on his bed and the fever in his brain.

***

He headed toward the kitchen, following the sound of voices. His shower-damp hair was nearly black against his neck as tiny droplets of water he’d forgotten to dry ran in neat little paths down his clean, dry T-shirt. Long legs wearing denim made giant strides toward her voice. He tried to mask the burst of pleasure that shot through him when he walked into the room. Then gave it up as a lost cause when she turned, spatula in one hand, platter of pancakes in the other, and smiled.

Morgan glanced up from the article he’d been reading in the morning paper.

“Morning, son,” he muttered, and started to resume his reading when the look on Cole’s face registered. He crumpled the paper in his lap and stared.

Buddy was sopping the last of his pancakes through a pool of syrup. He spoke around the bite.

“Hi, Cole.” He chewed.

Cole walked past them, took the plate and spatula out of Debbie’s hands, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Good morning, lady,” he whispered against her ear. “I thought I’d lost you.” He was referring to the fact that he’d awakened alone.

“Fat chance.” She grinned and turned her face up for the kiss she saw coming.

Morgan gaped. Buddy dropped his fork. Syrup splattered onto his shirt, the table, and the butter dish. He stared openmouthed and then grinned. As if to celebrate what he saw, he swiped his fingers across a droplet of syrup and then licked his finger shiny clean before going on to the next splash.

Morgan rolled his eyes and then tried to glare at the fact that he had a grown son who was licking syrup off the table.

“Mother always said, ‘Waste not, want not.’ Remember?” Buddy remarked.

“She also said you were a pig,” Cole reminded him as he reluctantly turned Debbie loose.

“How many do you want?” she asked, indicating the remaining pancake batter waiting for her to turn it into golden orbs with crisp, lacy edges.

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