Page 48 of Snow Kisses

Abby’s hands reached up and stroked his chest, tickling as they pressed into the tangle of dark hair. “I never knew,” she whispered.

“Neither did I.” He shuddered as her hands caressed him. “Don’t do that, not yet. I go crazy when you touch me that way.”

“You said we were going to make love,” she reminded him softly.

“We are. When you agree to marry me,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t handle an affair with you, either. If I take you, you take me for life.”

It was important to know the truth, not just guess at it. There had been too much misunderstanding already. “Because you need sons to inherit Painted Ridge?” she asked in a whisper.

“Because I love you, Abigail Shane,” he corrected breathlessly. “Because I’ve loved you for so many years that loving you is a way of life for me. Because if you don’t come home with me, I’ll pack my bags and move in with you and make love to you until you’ll marry me in self-defense, just to get some rest.”

Tears welled up in her wide brown eyes as they searched his. “You love me, Cade?” she burst out.

“What a mild word for so much feeling,” he managed in a voice that shook. His hands framed her face, andhis eyes worshipped it. “I want to be with you all the time. I want to sit and watch you when we’re together. I want to stay by your bed when you’re sick and you need me. I want to hold you in my arms in bed at night, even when we don’t make love. I want to give you children. Most of all, I want to live with you until I die. All the good days and bad. All the way to the grave.”

She was crying helplessly at his admission, at having all her wildest dreams come true. Her fingers moved up to his hard face and lovingly traced every warm inch of it. “I couldn’t look at you when I got on the bus four years ago,” she said brokenly, “because if I had, I would have thrown myself at your feet and begged you to let me stay. I started loving you when I was barely fifteen, and I’ve loved you every day since. Hopelessly, with all my heart. Oh, God, Cade, it was never New York and modeling. It was you! I love you until I hurt all over! I’ll love you all my life, all the days I live…!”

He stopped the frantic words with his mouth and eased down beside her. They kissed slowly, sweetly, rocking in each other’s warm arms, savoring the newness of belonging to each other, of shared loving. Until his tongue gently penetrated her mouth. Until her lips opened to its deep searching. Until they moved, together, slowly, into a new and shattering kind of intimacy with each other.

“Teach me how, Cade,” she whispered with love splintering her voice as she felt his hands touching her in new ways. “Teach me how…to show love…this way.”

His mouth gentled hers. “We’ll learn it together, honey,” he whispered back. “Because this is like myfirst time, too. Tell me if I hurt you. I’d rather die than hurt you now.”

But even as he spoke, his mouth was moving against her body, and she forgot that it was the first time, she forgot everything but the glory of being kissed and touched so tenderly by the only man she’d ever loved. She relaxed and moved deliberately, touched deliberately, delighting in his reactions to her fingers, her mouth. She whispered her love; her body shouted it.

Sensation piled on sensation, while she turned and arched and whispered wildly into his ear as he moved against her so slowly, with such staggering control. She could barely believe that the level of pleasure she was experiencing was bearable as it mounted and mounted and began to possess her.

Her eyes opened on a surge of mingled need and fear, and his were open, too, staring back at her.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered shakenly, urgently. “I love you. Trust me.”

It was all she needed to push her over the edge. Her eyes closed again, and she felt his mouth gentling hers, preparing her for what was coming.

Her hands tangled in his thick, dark hair as his body slowly, tenderly, overwhelmed hers. His mouth was gentle, despite the need she could feel in him, a need he was deliberately denying for her sake. The very tenderness of his movements, his slow, soft kisses, made it so beautiful that she forgot her fear and gave herself up to the incredible intimacy of belonging to him.

If there was pain, she hardly noticed it, so involved was she in trying to get closer to him, trying to pleasehim as he was pleasing her. She wanted nothing more than the joy of giving everything she had to give.

He cherished her as she’d never dreamed a man could cherish a woman, every second fueling the hunger and the sweetness of sharing love. She clung to him, loving him, loving him! And it was so easy. So perfect. So beautiful. Her eyes burned with tears that rolled helplessly down her cheeks into their joined mouths. A moment later she heard his voice in her ear, whispering words that only vaguely registered, whispering her name like a litany.

And from tenderness came passion—suddenly, like a summer storm billowing over them, lifting and tossing them in a vortex of urgency that blazed brighter than the lights around them.

She heard her voice break, and felt his hands controlling her wild movements firmly, guiding, teaching. Her teeth bit into his hard shoulder in an agony of pleasure, so exquisite that she cried out. And then there was no more time for the gentle beginnings, only for the wild, furious stretch toward fulfillment that sent them crashing together in frantic torment, trembling wildly, whispering urgently until there was oneness. And then peace.

Later, she curled up against him, trembling, while he lit a cigarette and smoked it. She laughed softly, triumphantly, delightedly.

His arm drew her closer, and he chuckled softly, too. “My God, in all my wildest dreams I never imagined feeling like that.”

“Neither did I,” she returned. “I thought I’d died.”

His chest rose and fell heavily. “I’m going to have that book framed and hung over our bed after we’re married.”

She blinked. “Book?”

He chuckled wickedly. “There’s this book about making love that I bought a few weeks ago,” he murmured. He lifted his brows at her stunned expression and laughed uproariously. “Well, hell, Abby, I told you I spent half my life working with the damned cattle? Where did you expect me to learn about sex? You women, always expecting men to know all the answers and hating us for the way we get them….”

Her face brightened with wonder. “Why, you old devil,” she said. “And I thought you had a string of women a mile long!”

He kissed her nose. “You’re my woman. The only one I ever wanted. I haven’t been a monk, but there was never any joy for me in sleeping with women I didn’t even like.”

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