Page 15 of The Runaway Heiress
“Now that you’ve thoroughly ravished me, will you tell me about yourself?”
He laughed. “I’m not interesting.”
“You are. Tell me.” She folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin there, waiting.
It ran counter to his nature to talk about himself so he started with the most recent things and worked backward. He told her about how he worked at Victoria House before coming to work for LaSalle, and the ranch he’d worked at before that tracking horse thieves. When he opened his mouth to tell her about the job before that, she started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” And he rolled so that he hovered above her.
“You don’t talk about yourself much, do you?” she managed between chuckles. “I don’t care about your profession, your life as a gunman or gunslinger or whatever you call yourself. I want to know aboutyou.”
“You should know better than to ask people out here about themselves.” He was only half kidding. This is where everyone came to start over.
“But you’re notpeople, you’re Gray.” She looked at him as if that meant something to her.
The sudden lump in his throat made it difficult to answer. He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, admiring how the shadows played beneath it. “Nobody’s ever asked about me.”
“No one? There hasn’t been one woman in your past?”
So that’s what she was getting at. He shook his head and took a breath before he answered, knowing she probably wouldn’t like what he had to say, but she deserved honesty—as much as he was able—so that’s what he gave her. “No one I haven’t paid.”
The smile was gone from her lovely face. “Have there only been…prostitutes?”
“I move from job to job, town to town, and it doesn’t leave a lot of time for women. After a while, I stopped thinking of any sort of future.” Looking into her face, that had all changed. Glimpses of what might be shoved themselves into his head. Sharing meals at a table. Laughing together as they walked hand in hand. “I haven’t lain with a woman in a long time, Sophie.”
Now that he knew the joy of pleasuring Sophie he wondered if sex with another woman would ever be satisfying again.
She surprised him again by kissing him. “How a man like you has walked God’s green earth and not managed to have at least one woman fall in love with him is beyond me.”
He closed his eyes against the simple pleasure he found in her words. It would be so easy to love her. If only LaSalle didn’t stand between them, and he didn’t owe a debt to Sinclair. He rested his head on her breasts, listening to her heart thrum. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What about your family? Your parents.”
“Let’s not talk about me anymore.”
“Please?” she asked sweetly and brushed a hand over his hair.
He lifted up to stare into the deep blue pools of her eyes and understood the need she felt. The need to remove all barriers between them, even if it was just for the night.
“Dead. They’ve been gone for a long time. There’s only me.”
He’d never felt he belonged anywhere. The only acceptance he’d found had come in the form of the cash men paid for his gun…until now…until her. He wanted to find the words to tell her, but after so many years they wouldn’t come. It wouldn’t befair to her anyway. He couldn’t tell her the full truth of who he was. When she found out, she might hate him anyway.
“We’re both alone,” she whispered, her hand cool on his cheek.
He closed his eyes and put his head back down, lulled by the steady beat of her heart as her fingers played in his hair.
“I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, mon coeur. But I’m thankful for whatever has led you to me.”
“Me too,” he whispered.
And he meant it.
Just as the first yellow streaks of dawn were peeking around the curtain, Sophie succumbed to the exhaustion of the night spent making love and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Gray was dressed and leaning over her, his eyes tender.
She begged for more sleep but when he moved into bed beside her and held her close, she was afraid to close her eyes. Afraid to lose any more time with him. So they fed each other breakfast in bed—the buttermilk biscuits, bacon, and coffee he had gone out to get while she slept.
Only after she finally convinced him to turn his back did she get out of bed and wash with the pitcher of water he’d brought. It had gone cold by then but it was worth the extra time spent in bed with him. She couldn’t stop thinking about the things they had done to each other throughout the night, the things he had confessed to her, and she savored the languorous feeling of contentment that she took with her. Until she felt his arms snake around her hips and pull her back to him.
