‡‡
Shane rolled when he hit the ground, and the hard, pebble-strewn prairie tore into his knees and hips. Pain roared through him as the borrowed trousers ripped. Warm blood trickled down his skin as he tried to catch his breath.
He knew something had gone horribly wrong with the wagon. The horses were making a god-awful noise, and the wagon creaked and cracked like an old man’s back. Over the whinnies, he heard another sound, one that made his blood run cold.
Lettie was screaming.
Regardless that he was hurt and the fact he couldn’t breathe, Shane scrambled to his feet and turned to see a horror. The wheel had splintered, sending the entire wagon careening forward until the corner hit the ground and it flipped. The back end had twisted sideways and landed on Lettie, who lay prone beneath it.
He ignored the horses and their sharp hooves, maneuvering around them until he reached Lettie. His heart pounded so hard, it damn near broke his ribs. Blood decorated her face and neck, the bun at the back of her hair nearly undone by the force of her fall.
“Jesus Christ.” He dropped to his knees. His own injuries made him grimace, but he didn’t care one whit. The wagon had her pinned beneath it. He tried to lift it up, but it didn’t budge an inch. The horses yanked and tugged in their desperate attempt to escape. When they dragged the broken mess a few inches in their struggle, Lettie screamed again.
He touched her shoulder, afraid to cause her any more pain than she was already in. “I’ve got to get the horses loose.”
“Hurry the hell up.” Her voice was rough and breathless, but he was glad to hear her speak.
Shane scrambled toward the horses to find them caught up in the traces. One of them had a broken leg, the shiny, bloody bone poking through the dark brown pelt. He wished he had a gun—he had nothing but his hands. Shane attacked the harnesses, yanking on them until his hands bled. The leather was old and cracked, but it would not give way.
He resorted to using his teeth, tearing at the foul-tasting traces until they started to loosen. Inch by painful inch, Lettie’s screams echoing in his ears, he freed one horse, then the other. Using strength he couldn’t possibly have, he heaved and tugged at the horses’ bits until they stood, completely free from the wagon’s snare. The one with the broken leg fell almost instantly, its pitiful cry sounding more like a wounded child’s. He had to ignore any pity for the animal and think about Lettie.
“Shane!” Her voice was full of agony, sending shards of panic into his heart.
He got back up and surveyed the wreck for a lever. Something to help him lift the wagon and release Lettie. One large piece had almost snapped free from the side of the wagon. He bent it back and forth until it came completely off. It wasn’t as thick as he would have liked, but it was all he had unless he figured out a way to chop down a tree with his bare hands.
Shane dug under the side of the wagon until he thought the lever was positioned well enough to leverage it up. Sweat ran down his back in a river. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his hat, and he tasted blood on his tongue. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, making his eyes sting more.
Her screams had stopped, and he assumed she had passed out, which was a good thing because she couldn’t feel the pain. She might be dead. Fear made his stomach ball up into a knot, leaving behind an icy panic.
She is not dead. Not dead.
“Hold fast, Lettie. I’m almost there.” His voice was as rough as the rest of him, raw and pained.
He maneuvered the wood under the wagon and slowly pushed. The wagon creaked and groaned, and it moved a few inches up. He glanced at Lettie, but she was still. There wasn’t enough room for him to reach down and pull her legs out. He had to lever it up higher.
Shane wiggled the wood farther in, until it was nearly halfway under. This time, he heaved with all his might. The wagon rose half a foot. He squatted, bracing the wood with his back, using every ounce of strength he had to keep the wagon up. Splinters dug into his shoulder as he stretched out and snagged her skirt, pulling as hard as he could. All but her left foot was clear.
He was fairly certain she’d want to keep that foot so he pulled harder, but his own foot blocked hers.
“Goddammit!” He had no choice but to raise the wagon up farther and move farther under. He scooted backwards and pushed again, his muscles screaming in agony. He shook with exhaustion, holding the weight of the entire wagon on his back. Closer to Lettie, he caught her shoelace with one finger and yanked until she was finally free of the wagon.
With a ragged breath he set the ruined wagon on the ground then collapsed beside it. His breath came out in gusts as he tried to get his wind back. After a few moments, he rolled to his knees and crawled over to Lettie.
She was on her belly, her face turned to the left, and blood ran down her forehead and cheek. Shane leaned in close and felt the warm gust of her breath. A relieved lungful of air whooshed out of him—he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it in.
“I’ve got to check you for broken bones. Don’t get fired up at me because I’m touching you.” Keeping a stream of chatter helped him focus on what he needed to do and not on the fact she was unconscious and bleeding.
He started with her head and neck, then moved his way down her shoulders and arms to her back. As he touched her body, the shape of her curves and the sweet dip at the small of her back were so familiar, he was momentarily stunned. His dreams had been real enough that he knew exactly how her hip flared out and that she had a mole on her back the size of a button.
Shane beat back the strangeness that lurked in his mind of why he knew. Dreams weren’t real, and these sure as hell weren’t memories, so how did he know her body so well?
By the time he reached her legs, he was surprised to find a sheath strapped to her thigh. Lettie carried a knife? That was one question he would ask her, even if he couldn’t tell her about his dreams.
He’d pulled up her skirt to check for bruising and cuts when she startled him by speaking.
“If you pull that up any farther, I will have to stab you.”
His gaze snapped to her face as joy swept through him. Her eyes were barely open to slits.
“Lettie. Jesus, I thought you were still out.” He gently moved the hair back out of her face. “How do you feel?”
“Like a wagon landed on me. How do you think I feel?” She groaned and tried to push herself up.
“Easy. I haven’t checked your legs yet. I need to see if anything is broken. Please.” He didn’t want her to make it worse by moving too soon. Field dressings could be applied using whatever he could find. Being in the war had taught him how to render first aid, amongst other things.
She sighed, sending a puff of dust in front of her face, which then made her cough. “Fine but make it fast. I’m tired of eating dirt.”
He spotted a canteen lying nearby and snagged it. He would need water to clean the wounds and was glad to find he wouldn’t have to go looking for it. Shane moved back to her legs and slowly lifted her skirt. She wore stockings and drawers, which were ripped and bloody. He would either need to cut them open to see the damage or take them off. Either way, Lettie was not going to be happy.
“I need to get your drawers off to tend to the wounds. Do you want me to cut them or take them off?”
There were a few beats of silence before she answered. “If I wasn’t in so much pain, I would likely slap you for asking me that question. Try to cut them at the seam that way I can sew them back up and keep my dignity.”
He wouldn’t expect any less from her, and although the situation was far from comical, it did make his mouth kick up in a small grin. “Can I use your knife?”
She snorted. “Did you make this trip without a weapon?”
“I don’t have anything, Lettie. Hell, I don’t even have a pair of drawers that I own.” Sadly, he didn’t own the clothes on his back. The only thing he owned was his misery and his bad habits.
“Oh, that’s true. Sorry. I just… Damn, yes, use the knife.” Her voice told him the pain was getting worse with each passing moment.
As he took the knife from its sheath, he was glad to find it sharpened and well taken care of. She was prepared for whatever or whoever threatened her. He started to cut the delicate stitching on the plain cotton drawers when a noise drew his attention. He’d nearly forgotten about the horses. Twenty feet away, the gelding with the broken leg whinnied feebly, waiting for relief from his agony.
“Is that one of the horses?”
He grimaced. “Yes, one of them snapped his foreleg. I need to take care of him after I take care of you.”
Touching her was both a pleasure and a torture. She was as soft yet firmly muscled as he imagined. He ran his hands down her lower leg first, checking for breaks, then started on the other. By the time he reached her knee, she spoke again. This time her voice was softer, thick with emotion.
“He’s in pain.”
“So are you. And you are more important to me than him.” Well he hadn’t meant to let that little bit of information slip out.
“I’m important to you?” She sounded full of surprise.
“You are my dark angel, Lettie. You brought me back from the dead whether or not I deserved it. There isn’t anyone in this world who cared about me, or whether I lived or died.” He set the knife down and rolled up the cotton to get a look at her leg. “Right now you are the only important person to me.”
“Get on with it then. My teeth are getting gritty down here.” She tried to sound grumpy, but he heard the underlying current of pain in her voice.
The knife cut through the stitching quickly, and he was checking her legs in minutes. The skin was abraded and peeled back in several places where the wagon had dragged across her legs. Dark, ugly bruises had already formed. He carefully finished checking her legs for breaks. Thank God there were none since they had no supplies and were nowhere near a doctor. He had to find a way to bandage the wounds.
He pulled off his shirt and tore off the sleeve. Someday he would pay the Gundersons back for their generosity.
Blood welled in the wounds, but not at an alarming rate. He could use the sleeve as a bandage without worrying it would soak through.
“No breaks, but there is bleeding and nasty bruises. I think you’re going to be in pain for a while, but I can stop the bleeding. I’m going to clean and bandage the right leg now.” He poured water on the wounds and dabbed at the skin, cleaning out the dirt and pebbles that had been ground in.
She hissed in a breath. “Shit that hurts.”
Unsurprised to hear her cuss, he continued on his task. “Sorry, I’ll try to be quick.” He cleaned it as best he could, enduring each little noise she made as he worked. After ripping the other sleeve from the shirt, he placed one hand beneath her knee and lifted it up enough to slide the cloth beneath.
He positioned the sleeve to cover most of the wound and tied it tight enough to stay put but not too tight as to make the pain worse. Sweat stung his eyes, but he blinked it away.
God must’ve been watching out for this woman. The wagon should have crushed her legs. He had no explanation as to why she suffered only bruising and cuts.
The horse’s cries echoed around them, cutting through Shane as he worked on Lettie. He had to stay focused, had to make sure his woman was taken care of.
His woman.
Was Lettie his? Would she ever be his? Unlikely, but it made him feel better to think of her as his woman while he worked. She was too strong to be anyone’s woman, truth be told. Lettie was unique amongst women, tough as steel on the outside and prickly as hell. Inside, well, he only dreamed of how soft she was inside. Perhaps it was true. At least he could keep that illusion in his dreams.
He forced himself to work faster. The wounds on the left leg weren’t as bad as they were on the right. He used the sleeve to clean her then cut off a strip from the remaining shirt to bandage her with. She sighed when he pulled the cotton back over her legs and positioned her skirt more modestly. He wouldn’t tell her how much he admired her beautiful legs, the creamy skin softer than flower petals but firm from hard work. They would be perfect if they hadn’t been marred by the wagon.
Now he had to make sure she was at a safe distance before he took care of the wounded gelding. The other horse kept coming over and nudging the gelding with her great nose, trying to make her partner rise. They were a matched pair, likely from the same dam, perhaps brother and sister. Same coloring and the mare was only slightly smaller than the gelding. Both of them were in distress, and he had to take care of them.
“I’m going to pick you up and set you over in the shade by those trees over there.”
“Why?”
He frowned. “I need to take care of the horse, and without a gun, I’m going to have to use the knife.”
“No, I won’t go sit in the corner while you do the man’s work. Let me help.” She struggled to flip over and slapped away his hands when he tried to help. Finally she landed on her back with a grunt. “Not ideal but I can deal with the pain.” She speared him with a glance, the blood drying on her cheek from cuts on her forehead. “Now give me the knife and help me over to the horse.”
Shane should have argued with her, told her it was not a woman’s place to be there for blood and death. He didn’t. As she was different from most women in her view of life, she was different in her view of death. She was stronger than anyone he’d ever met. He’d bet his life on that. He tucked the knife into the sheath in her thigh since he couldn’t carry it and her at the same time.
“This is going to hurt.” He positioned his arm beneath hers and his other arm under her knees. The worst of the injuries were to her thighs, but it was going to be painful just the same.
Slowly he lifted her, his back and knees throbbing from his own injuries. She sucked in a breath but otherwise did not complain. He got to his feet and managed not to fall on his head, but he did let out a groan.
“Am I that heavy?” Her voice was strained.
“No, but I got thrown out of the wagon too.” He left it at that, not explaining that his own injuries were paltry compared to hers.
They made their way to the wounded horse. His eyes were rolling in their sockets, full of confusion and agony.
“Set me down by his head.”
Shane did as she bade, positioning her so she could reach the horse. He held out his hand, and she pulled the knife from the sheath. Raw emotion showed in her expression as she put the knife in his care. He glimpsed the real Lettie behind the angry mask. She obviously felt things deeply but kept them hidden from view.
“Be as quick as you can.” Her voice shook, and he didn’t know if it was from physical pain or emotional.
He knelt beside the horse’s head, spotting the throbbing artery at the base of his neck. It would hurt momentarily, but the horse would bleed out in minutes. Certainly wasn’t as swift as a bullet to the brain but more humane than letting the horse lie there and suffer.
The mare paced around them, shaking her head and whinnying a keening cry that raised goose bumps on his arms. He glanced at Lettie and nodded. She started rubbing the horse’s head and speaking softly into his ear. He calmed at her crooning. Shane positioned the knife and dug in deep and quick. Blood spurted from the wound, spattering him in a hot shower of death.
Tears rolled down Lettie’s face, not from her injuries, but for the struggling horse that lay dying in her arms. Shane had vowed never to cry again, but his eyes stung with unshed tears for the brave animal. The gelding struggled briefly, but as the blood flowed from the wound, he quieted. The spurts slowed along with the horse’s great heart, then the blood only trickled out as death laid its cloak over the magnificent animal.
Lettie wept openly but silently. She kept petting his head after it was clear the horse had passed. The mare positioned herself behind Lettie, her nose pressed into Lettie’s shoulder. The two females seemed to be helping each other through the loss.
Shane didn’t hurry her, knowing Lettie grieved for the poor horse, for a life cut short because of an unforeseen accident. He knelt on the ground, covered in blood and dirt, his wounds throbbing. It was something he’d done before, in another lifetime, but now he had Lettie there. She kept the demons away with her soft strength.
He felt the earth shift beneath him as he stared at her. Lettie was more than the woman who had dragged him from the maw of death and whiskey. Much more. When Violet had died, he never expected to feel anything again, much less love. His heart had been dead long before his wife had joined it.
Lettie had resurrected it, and now it beat within his chest once more.
The smell of blood made her sick, but she needed to sit there a little longer. The horse’s life had ebbed out from him as she held his head, telling him it was okay to let go, that the pain would cease. Grief welled up within her for the horse, the unfairness of losing his life. He had been a victim, and she felt better knowing she had helped him pass.
The mare’s hot breath never left her back. She seemed to need to feel Lettie’s life force as her partner lay dying in the empty meadow. It comforted Lettie likely as much as it comforted the horse.
She looked up at Shane. He had been magnificent, quick and smart, getting them all through the aftermath of the wagon accident. Blood coated his bare chest and arms, his face was scraped, his hair was sticking out every which way, full of dirt and pebbles. His trousers were ripped and stained as well. He breathed heavy and gripped the knife hard enough to make his knuckles white.
“You fought in the war.”
It wasn’t a question. She knew by his age and by the way he acted that he’d been in battle before, knew what to do and how to assess the situation.
“Thank you for this.” She scrubbed the tears from her cheeks. Her legs throbbed mercilessly along with her head. “I think I’d like to sit in the shade now.”
He put the knife on the ground and crawled over to her. After nudging the mare out of the way, he picked her up and walked to the trees nearby. He set her down against the trunk of a large cottonwood tree on a bed of thick green grass.
“Are you comfortable?” His scowl should have scared her, since he looked as though he’d been in a battle. It didn’t. She had never been more comfortable with a man before, and that was a miracle in and of itself.
“As much as I can be.” She ran her tongue along her teeth and made a face. “Bring the canteen, will you? I’ve got half that meadow in my mouth.”
He cupped her cheek and looked at her with so much concern, her heart did a funny flip. “I’ll bring it. You’re a helluva fighter, Lettie Brown.”
He left her and walked toward the wreckage, his posture straight and his movements sure. If she didn’t know any better, she might have believed he wasn’t hurt, but he was. He’d been driving the team and had no doubt been thrown quite a distance when it wrecked.
She closed her eyes for a moment to rest. The soft breeze caressed her face, and the sound of the leaves shifting above her soothed her aches. Beside her the mare stood guard, quietly munching on the succulent grass. A peace stole over Lettie, and she let herself drift away from the pain and the horror of what the horse went through.
When she opened her eyes again, she was disoriented. She must have fallen asleep, and the late morning had given way to early afternoon.
Shane sat nearby, his legs crossed beneath him, bent over something. The sunlight cast a glow over his now-clean chest, making it appear to shine. She hadn’t really looked at his chest before, but it was nicely formed. A sprinkling of molasses-colored hair whirled around his flat, copper nipples. He had numerous scars, which she had catalogued, but seeing him shirtless sent a quiver through her that had everything to do with the man in front of her.
She was attracted to him. Again.
Lettie had fought it, truly she had, but the man was under her skin. She hadn’t thought any male would ever appeal to her, but Shane did and in an elemental way. The connection between them grew stronger with each minute they were together. The wagon accident made that bond deeper. They had survived and now they were stranded halfway between home and their destination with nothing but each other, a mare with no saddle and one knife.
If it hadn’t been happening to her, she might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. She likely couldn’t walk, and there was no way she could ride the horse or Shane’s shoulders. A strangled laugh popped out of her mouth, and Shane’s head snapped up. His gaze locked with hers, and a skitter of awareness snapped between them.
“You’re awake.” He got to his feet with a grimace and walked over to her, his gait stiff.
“Have you doctored your own injuries?”
He knelt beside her. “I cleaned up as best I could, but I’m gonna have to work through the rest of it. Bumps and bruises mostly.”
There were fresh scratches across his cheek, and his eye, his poor eye that had taken two weeks to lose the swelling, was black and blue again. He must have landed on his face when he was thrown.
“Can I have that drink now?”
He handed her the canteen, which she hadn’t seen hanging from his shoulder. The man seemed to be prepared for anything. She took one drink, swished it around and spit out the grime. A second rinse and she’d rid herself of the grit. Then she took a swallow of the sweet, cool water.
He watched her mouth and throat. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or to tell him to stop staring. After using her sleeve to wipe away the water, which wasn’t particularly ladylike, she handed the canteen back to him.
“Is there fresh water nearby? That tastes too good to be from Forestville.” She had to distract both of them from the humming attraction in the air. It was no good for either of them.
He gestured to his right. “There’s a small creek beyond the trees. Clean water, about two feet deep, enough to get most of the dirt and, um, other things off me.” He was kind enough not to mention the horse’s blood. Shane was a better man than she imagined him to be.
“I want to wash up too. I know I’ve got enough dirt in my hair to build an anthill.” She scratched at her scalp. “If I can sit on the bottom of the creek, I should be okay.”
His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’d need to, ah, take your clothes off.”
Now it was her turn to react. Her blood quickened at the idea of disrobing in front of him. It brought back the memories of her very vivid, very erotic dreams. Ones she could not forget if she tried. There had been so much pleasure and closeness between them in those imaginings. She held them dear, never intending to tell a soul of them, particularly the man who featured in them.
“I’m sure I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before. Besides, after I wash up, maybe we can rustle up some of the food from the wagon.” Eating would be another welcome distraction.
“Ah, yes, but I haven’t seen yours. That is, we haven’t… Hell, I feel like a fifteen-year-old here.” He rubbed his hands down his face, the whiskers rasping against his palm. “If that’s what you want, I’ll help you.”
Oh, she wanted more than that, much to her consternation. She wanted to see him disrobe and join her in the stream, help her wash. Was she brave enough to ask him? Was it really what she wanted?
Yes and yes.
“That’s what I want.” She held up her arms, her heart thumping madly as he lifted her into his arms again.
This time she felt the heat of his skin, the tautness of his shoulder beneath her fingers. It reminded her of that day, weeks ago, when she helped him through his nightmare. Now he was healthier, his skin smoother. She resisted the urge to rub her hand down his back to feel how amazing she imagined it was.
What was wrong with her? How did she get to be such a wanton? After the life she’d led, there was no probability she’d want to be with a man. Yet she did. So much so that her body was ready before her mind caught up. Shane wasn’t threatening. He would never hurt her. Hell, he had saved her life, doctored her wounds and cared for her as she slept. He was a good man; she knew that in her bones.
Lettie trusted her instincts, and they were screaming at her to take a chance with Shane. She had decided she couldn’t be with him for good, but perhaps she could be with him for now. Use this time to erase the marks left behind by the monster who used her for his sadistic needs. It wasn’t as though Shane wouldn’t enjoy himself, but she would be using him for her own purposes.
She pushed aside the guilt and focused on the man. He was alive, holding her, giving her every bit of his attention. She would be a fool not to take what was right in front of her. There would likely never be another chance or another man like Shane.
They arrived at the stream in minutes, and she was pleased to see it was a private spot with plenty of shade. The fading light lent a pinkish glow to the water. He set her on the bank and looked at her clothes. It was secretly entertaining to see him struggle with what to do. She had to put him out of his misery.
“Start with my shoes while I work on my buttons.”
Her legs still throbbed, but she pushed away the pain. Right now she wanted to concentrate on feeling good, feeling alive, not the remnants of a wreck that shouldn’t have happened. Her fingers were stiff, but she got all the buttons undone down the front of her dress. Concentration painted his face as he worked at the knots in her laces.
“I didn’t do that.” She shrugged out of her sleeves. “My laces weren’t all tangled like that when we left.”
“It’s my fault. I was trying to pull you clear from the wagon and—” He glanced up, and his gaze immediately fell to her breasts and the thin cotton chemise covering them.
Lettie didn’t wear a corset. They were uncomfortable and expensive. She only wore a chemise and drawers beneath her dress. She didn’t need anything else. To her surprise, her nipples had peaked and were currently poking at the material that rubbed against them.
“Ah, I had to yank a bit on the laces to get your feet out of the way.” He swallowed hard enough that she heard it.
“Oh, then I reckon I owe you thanks. I didn’t know, well, I guess you must’ve pulled me out from under the wagon.” They could discuss his heroics later. Now she needed his body and his hands. “Let’s get to finishing this up so I can get in that cool water. I expect it will help with the swelling and pain in my legs.”
He jumped as though she’d poked him with a stick. “Sorry.” He attacked the laces, his fingers pinching and pulling until he got them undone. With a sigh of relief, he tugged off one boot then the other.
“Is it okay if I, uh, take off your stockings and such?”
“A’course it is. I asked you to help, didn’t I?” Lettie didn’t want either one of them to feel awkward. She wanted to feel good. Now.
She lifted her hips and slid the dress past her knees. He rolled the stockings down then removed her dress. Like a lady’s maid, he laid the clothing both on a nearby rock, though they were dirty and covered with rips and tears. If she wasn’t so desperate to kiss him, she might have laughed at the absurdity of it.
“I ain’t taking off anything else, so let’s get in the water.” She held up her arms again.
He shucked his trousers and boots, then shuffled back toward her sideways. She was about to ask him what the heck he was doing when she spotted the very hard cock in his borrowed drawers.
Oh my.
Her boots did that? Or rather her feet? Perhaps her breasts? Whatever body part it was, she had caused Shane Murphy to have an erection again. It pleased her to know she could have that kind of effect on him. She was, after all, not beautiful or particularly smart. Ordinary was a better description. Today, right this minute, she felt extraordinary.
He lifted her gently and made his way down into the creek. As his feet hit the water, he hissed in a breath.
“It’s a little cold. Likely a mountain runoff or the like.” He looked into her eyes, his gaze as hopeful as hers—probably was. “Ready?”
“Yes, I’m ready.”
He lowered himself with her in his arms until he sat on the bottom of the stream.
The cold water hit her feet then her ass. She almost screamed at the frigid temperature. A little cold? It was more like snow in January. However the cool water lapped against her legs, then encompassed them. The sore and bruised flesh sighed in relief. It felt good, really good.
She didn’t realize she’d moaned aloud until she heard it echo. She opened her eyes and peeked at him. He stared at her, not straying any lower than her chin. The man had iron control that was for sure because her nipples were so hard they ached. And they were nearly in his face.
“This feels real good, Shane.” Her voice was breathy, so unlike the Lettie of the everyday variety.
“Mmm, I’m glad to hear it. The, uh, cold should be good for swelling.”
The absurdity of his statement, coupled by the still-hard dick pressed against her hip, made her laugh.
His eyes widened. “What’s so funny?”
“You. Me. Everything.” She moved toward him until their lips were a hairsbreadth away from each other. The heated puff of his breath caressed her face, and she smiled. “Kiss me, Shane.”
“I don’t think that’s a—”
“Now.”
He focused on her mouth then licked his lips before he leaned in. She closed her eyes and waited, anticipation making her heart thump. When he finally kissed her, he was warm, so very warm and soft. She let her mouth open beneath his. At first his movements were awkward and clumsy, as though he’d forgotten how to kiss.
As their kiss deepened, he seemed to relax and remember how enjoyable it was. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, lapping one way and back again. She loved it. When his mouth settled over hers, their tongues came together as one, dancing and rasping against each other. The movements were as old as the act they mimicked.
One long, slow kiss after another, so many she lost count and lost track. She pulled back and opened her eyes, surprised to find the midday sunlight poking through the leaves in the small forest. A flock of sparrows flew past, the gentle swish of their wings echoing softly around them.
Her lips felt swollen with kisses, and they throbbed in tune with her pulse. As they stared at each other, he brushed her hair from her forehead. A simple gesture, but one that felt achingly familiar as though he’d done it a thousand times.
“Was that enough kissing?”
She shook her head. “No, now I want more than that. I want you to join with me.”
His expression didn’t change, but she saw a muscle jump in his jaw. “I can’t.”
“Oh yes you can. Don’t think I don’t feel that cock between us. I could count your heartbeats with it.”
He frowned at her. “Kissing makes a man hard, Lettie. It don’t mean nothing.”
“Yes it does. It means you want to join with me.” She pushed away from him, bobbing in the water enough to spread her legs. The split drawers floated in the stream like waving banners as she straddled his hips. Their combined body heat penetrated through the cold water.
“I can’t do that to you, Lettie. You should only lie with your hus—”
She slapped her hand across his mouth. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I ain’t a young girl who never had a man between her legs. One day I might tell you about it. Know that I don’t do this, I ain’t done this, with no one in a very long time.” Lettie swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. “I want to join with you.”
She had trouble putting what she felt into words, to tell him that he was special to her, that this was not an ordinary frolic in the woods. Speaking had never been something she did very well. She was the kind of person who did what she had to and showed what she meant.
So she did.
Lettie reached between them and wrapped her hand around his length. He was big, bigger than she expected, but oh so hard and hot to the touch. Shane groaned and feebly tried to pull from her grasp, but she knew if he really wanted to, he could break her hold.
She led him to the slit in her drawers, to the aching part of her that needed him inside. He held her hips and guided her forward. Together they moved until he was at her entrance.
“Lettie, I—”
“Shush now. Ain’t the time to talk.” With a wiggle of her hips, he was within her.
He pushed in slowly, giving her time to get used to him, which was appreciated. By the time he was fully sheathed within her, she had almost bit a hole in her lip. It was the most amazing thing she’d ever experienced. A connection with someone physically and emotionally. Her heart felt a thousand times lighter, near to bursting from her chest.
Then he started to move and it got better. His thrusts were slow and measured, enough to keep her wanting more. Her impatience grew until she couldn’t take the pace any longer. She started pushing back at him as he pushed into her. Using his shoulders for leverage, she increased her speed until the water splashed between them with each plunge.
He leaned down and nudged aside her wet chemise, exposing one pink-tipped breast. She was about to ask him what he was doing when he captured it with his mouth. Pleasure zinged through her straight to her pussy. He sucked at her nipple, rolling it around on his tongue, then nibbled at it.
“Keep doing that. It feels mighty good.”
Shane made a choking sound, but he didn’t let that tit go. She was glad because it heightened her desire, made her push against him harder. There was something happening inside her, a tension that grew sharper and sharper. She pulled at his arms, not knowing what to do, not understanding.
Each suck of his mouth, each thrust of his cock, made the coil inside her tighten. More. More. More.
Lettie exploded in a whirl of colors and stars. She threw back her head and howled as the most exquisite pleasure she’d ever experienced consumed her. Her body shook with spasms, and she knew nothing more than the man in her arms and the ecstasy their joining had brought her.
He called her name and thrust deep, deep within her, his own body shuddering. Lettie felt warm tears on her cheeks, and she was glad of the water splashing at her that hid them. She’d never known what a man and woman could share.
She’d never known.
His chest heaved as he caught his breath, almost in unison with her gasps. It had been incredible, more than she had ever dreamed.
“I’m sorry. It’s been so long, I didn’t know I would lose control so fast.”
He was apologizing?
“Ain’t a thing to be sorry for, Shane. It felt real good.” That was an understatement, but it was the best her befuddled brain could do.
“I lost control.”
“Me too.” If she wasn’t careful, she might ask him to do it again. Hell, she’d already forgotten about the pain in her legs. There was so much of her feeling good, she didn’t care about her injuries at all.
“Next time I’ll make it better. I want to kiss you all over, especially the mole on your back and the birthmark on your shoulder.” He grinned.
She stared at him, her breath caught somewhere between shock and scared witless. “What did you say?”
“Next time. I know maybe this is the only time but—”
“No, not that part.” She pushed at his shoulders until she drifted backwards. His still-hard cock left her warm pussy, and she nearly wept from the loss. However she couldn’t focus on that.
She had to focus on what he’d said.
“How do you know about the mole? And the birthmark?” Her heart jammed into her throat. Now she truly was frightened. “I don’t understand.”
His face fell as he realized what he’d said. Shane’s gaze skittered away, and she knew he was trying to think of a lie. Lettie had given herself to a man, and he had likely been peeping at her, watching her undress. She felt unclean and dirty, a far cry from the satisfied woman from two minutes earlier.
“Don’t ever touch me again.” She managed to get to the edge of the stream and crawl out, her legs protesting each movement she made.
“Lettie, please wait.”
“No, I ain’t waiting. You’re lucky the knife got left on the bank or I might have cut out your heart for that.” Her voice was raw, full of anger and pain, a living breathing thing. “You ain’t nothing to me.”
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can explain.”
She heard him scramble out of the water and knew he was right behind her. Lettie tried to get to the knife lying on the rock beside her skirt, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. He dropped beside her and reached for her face. She slapped at his hands, unwilling to let him touch her, but he was too strong.
He leaned down until their faces were inches apart. She wanted to bite him, hit him and kick him until he let her go, but she couldn’t do anything but hold up her body with shaking arms.
“I dreamed of you. I dreamed of touching you, pleasuring you, tasting you and being with you.” His voice was jagged. “I fell in love with you in my dreams.”
Lettie’s heart skipped a beat. “Dreams?”