Page 49 of The Promise
Steam from the shower swirled around them and she reached out to pull him closer. Her soapy skin slid against his, the hair on his chest rasping against her already aroused nipples. With a groan he bent his head, taking possession of her mouth. She traced the line of his lower lip with her tongue, tasting him, teasing him—wanting him.
His hands spread across the small of her back, urging her closer. "Are you sure, Cara?"
The whispered words sent a shiver of desire shooting down her spine to burst into tingling warmth deep inside her. She had wanted this man for nine long years. And suddenly, all her worries and fears paled in the blinding light of her need for him.
"Oh, yes, Michael, I'm sure."
She sucked in a ragged breath, as he struggled out of his pants. He was magnificent. Everything she'd dreamed he'd be. She reached for him, pulling him close, letting the heat from the water beat down on them.
Michael's hands were shaking.He'd never wanted any woman as much as he wanted Cara.Hadwanted her, for so many years.But still he hesitated. What did he have to offer her? He was a misfit in her time. And he knew, with certainty, that he had to go home. So what was he doing? Taking what she had to offer and giving nothing in return?
He shuddered as she wrapped a hand around him. Shyly, stroking, up and down, up and down. Oh God, she was amazing. He found her lips and kissed her deeply, sucking and stroking with his tongue, mimicking the actions of her hand, longing to bury himself in her throbbing warmth. His hands cupped her bottom. And she raised her arms to twine them in his hair, her breasts brushing across his chest.
They gyrated together, following the moves of a spontaneous dance, the feeling of their bodies, rubbing together, intensified by the pulsing water. He tried to maintain rational thought, but his heart was beating in tandem with hers and he knew that, at least for this moment, she belonged to him.
And he would give her all that he had to give.
With a groan, he bent and took the tip of one rosy breast into his mouth, circling it with his tongue, feeling it tighten with his touch, the fingers of one hand trailing down her belly in slow, sensuous circles. Sucking vigorously at her breast, his hand moved even lower, sliding one finger inside, feeling her heat surround him. She cried out as his finger found her soft center, and he smiled, nipping at one taut nipple with his teeth.
Cara's body sang,with each stroke of his finger, each tug of his mouth at her breast. The warmth was building inside her, until she literally throbbed with desire, wanting him to fill her until she burst.
He shifted, bringing his lips back to hers. Kissing and stroking until she thought she would explode. "Please. Please."
He pushed her back against the wall, bracing her body with his. The water was behind them now, a waterfall of sound, the resulting mist and steam twirling around them like fairy lovers.
Keeping his weight against her chest, he cupped his hands under her, lifting her up. With a moan, she twined her legs around him, feeling him slide into her. With a gentle rocking motion he began to tease her, sliding in and then out, in and then out, in, out, in, out…
"Now."
The word echoed around them and with one long thrust, he filled her. With driving need, she urged him to go deeper, faster, begging for more. She wrapped her arms around him, holding tightly as he held her pinned above the world. Her entire being concentrated on the exquisite feel of him pounding deeper and deeper, higher and higher, until the world erupted in one amazing explosion of color and light, and she could no longer tell where he ended and she began.
Gradually, softly, she slid down from the precipice, until she rested comfortably, her head nestled against his shoulder, a gentle rain washing them tenderly with fine fingers of mist.
13
The sun was still hidden behind the gray-white clouds clinging to the mountains. The heavenly curtain diffused the sunrise, giving it an ethereal glow. Loralee sat in the rocker on Ginny's porch, her soft humming a counterpoint to the rhythm of the creaking runners. She breathed deeply, letting the crisp morning air fill and renew her.
It was her favorite time of day. A time of new beginnings. Not that someone like her deserved second chances. She had learned that lesson well. A body had to accept her lot in life. She reached for the silver oval between her breasts, lovingly rubbing her thumb across the carved design. But it was all right to remember. Sometimes the memories were all she had.
Loralee shook her head, attempting to clear away the past. No sense in moping. Life was too short. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to focus on positive things, but all she could see were Corabeth's sightless eyes.
Not for the first time, she wished she'd never left Leadville, but then dreams were powerful things and she'd been intent on following hers. And of course there'd been Mary. Loralee smiled and rocked, thinking about the tiny angel who had erupted intoher life with a swirl of yellow curls and a voice that rivaled a tent town preacher at a revival. At least Mary was safe.
She shivered, and pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. The mountain mist swirled across rocky chasms, taking on an almost ominous cast. For the first time it occurred to her that she was alone. And with Amos Striker out there somewhere, alone wasn't good.
Ginny had been up and out before dawn, heading into town for supplies. Women of ill-repute had to shop early or not at all. It wasn't seemly to mix with proper society. And the Ute were at the bottom of the ladder. Not that she was much better off.
As far as she was concerned, folks didn't come any better than Ginny. Without so much as a whisper of concern, Ginny'd insisted she stay with her until things got sorted out. Yes indeedy, Ginny was a stand-up gal, and the color of her skin didn't matter one bit. Why, she wasn't sure she'd ever met anyone as kind as Ginny.
A picture of Patrick Macpherson flashed in her mind, his languid green eyes smiling at her. She felt a stirring deep inside, something she hadn't felt since before… She pushed her hair out of her face, dispelling the image. No sense letting her imagination run away with her.
The clatter of falling rocks interrupted the still peace of the morning. Loralee jerked in the direction of the sound, heart pounding, her eyes searching the mountainside.
A mule deer stepped out of the shadows, its head lifted, sniffing for signs of danger. Finally, satisfied that all was as it should be, the lithe creature walked to the edge of the stream and bent its graceful neck to drink.
Loralee blew out a breath, holding a hand to her chest in relief. She was mighty jumpy this morning. She assured herself once again that there was no reason for anybody to be after her. She didn't know a thing. Not a dad-gummed thing.
But Amos Striker doesn't know that.
