Page 16 of The Copper Heir
With his warm palm pressed to hers, his hand at the back of her head and his large body covering hers, imprisoning her between his powerful thighs, she briefly realized that she should have felt very much at his mercy, his prisoner, but what she felt was quite the opposite. She felt protected and wanted. A small gasp escaped her when his tongue brushed against her bottom lip and she craved more. Her free hand went to his chest, palm reveling in the hard muscle as she moved on to his shoulder and then the dark blond hair at the back of his head, where her fingers clenched in the short, thick waves to pull him closer.
His soft growl of pleasure made a spark of pleasure shoot through her belly and she touched him back, stroking the tip ofher tongue against his full bottom lip. Immediately he deepened the kiss, tightening his own fingers in her hair as he chased her tongue with his, moving in and out in a sensuous rhythm. A new and strange need began to pulse within her, warmth unfurling in her belly and moving downward to pulse between her thighs. She wanted to be closer to him, to feel the hardness of his body against the softness of hers.
He must have sensed what she wanted, because he lowered himself so that his elbow was no longer supporting him and his weight fell softly on her. She almost groaned with how good he felt on top of her. He was hard everywhere: his chest and stomach, his unforgiving thighs entrapping hers, the unmistakable shaft of steel pressed against her belly. For the first time in her life she wanted to explore that part of a man. The strange urge gave her a moment of pause, until she let the excitement overtake her again, forcing herself to lock her reticence away and to just let him make her feel.
Letting go of his hair, she curled her hand around his impossibly wide shoulder and held him close. It was his turn to groan when he pulled his lips from hers and buried his face in her neck. His breath on the sensitive area sent goose bumps prickling across her skin, but then it was followed by the wet heat of his mouth and she gasped aloud at the unexpected bolt of pleasure that shot through her middle, pushing her hips up into his. He groaned again and pressed his pelvis into her. This time her lips parted on a soft moan she tried to contain by biting down on her bottom lip. His mouth moved down her neck, his tongue coming out to stroke her just before his lips closed over the spot, sucking lightly. Finally, he reached the coarse wool of her dress and she actually sighed with disappointment when he stopped, his forehead coming to rest briefly on her shoulder as he took a deep, shuddering breath and raised up to look down at her.
She knew that she must look a mess if the heavy breaths she was trying hard to get under control were any indication. His brow was furrowed, drawing his eyebrows together in a way that made him seem bewildered, and she couldn’t help but smile at how the look transformed him from hardened outlaw to ardent lover. It didn’t seem to matter that they shouldn’t have been kissing at all or that their hands were still locked together and she wasn’t behaving like a proper hostage at all. It had happened and neither of them seemed to quite know how it had come about.
When he smiled back, a tentative grin that revealed far more of his uncertainty than he probably intended, she had to resist the urge to trace the curve of his shapely bottom lip as desire shot through her core. Everything about that desire was wrong.
“That shouldn’t have happened.” The words were automatic and not at all what she meant even though she knew they were true.
“No. It shouldn’t.” Releasing her hand, he brought his to rest gently on her jawline and the curve of her neck. His fingertips rested there for a second, stroking back and forth before he roused himself and slipped off of her. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
She opened her mouth instinctively to tell him that it was fine, that she had wanted it. Her body still throbbed with how “fine” it had been, but bit lightly on her tongue to stop the words. He was still the outlaw who had kidnapped her. Instead of saying anything, she pushed herself up and pulled her knees to her chest. She had to get away. The locket rested heavily between her breasts, reminding her of the plan she had made.
He pushed his hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. A tiny flutter of pleasure winged its way through her at the tangible evidence of how she affected him, but that wasn’t the only evidence, she reminded herself, and discreetly glanced tothe bulge still obvious in his trousers. It shouldn’t matter and, really, it didn’t matter, but it was something she could take with her and relive later.
When she didn’t absolve him of his guilt, he nodded and retrieved the gun she had used to return it to his holster lying near the saddlebags. “I’m glad you know how to shoot. It was good that Campbell taught you.” After he was finished he gave her a quick glance and flashed a grin. “Care for a drink? I sure as hell need one.”
The flask. She faintly remembered seeing it at some point when she was on his horse and realized that it would be the best way to get the powders into him. “Yes, please.”
Lips still tingling from his kiss, she watched his impressively wide shoulders as he dug through the saddlebags with more than a little regret. It really was unfortunate that she hadn’t met him under different circumstances. That kiss had been...unbelievable. But it was stupid to pursue that line of thought. She had to get away—and not just to get back to her sisters. If the past hours had taught her anything, it was that she wasn’t safe with Ship anymore. Money or not, she had to get herself and the girls away from his chaos. She shuddered to think what might have happened if someone like Ship’s men had kidnapped her, or worse, her sisters.
Taking a deep pull on the flask, he handed it to her and watched as she nodded her thanks and took a small taste of the whiskey. It burned going down, warming her from the inside out as if she’d needed it after that kiss had heated her blood. She had only just begun to worry about how to get the powders into his drink, when he turned to pick up the binoculars, bringing them to his eyes to look in the direction the shooter had ridden. She couldn’t resist admiring the view he presented, wide chest, narrow waist and the tantalizing way his trousers pulled tight over the curve of his backside.
Shaking her head, she fumbled with the locket, pulling it out of her bodice and carefully pressing the catch to open it. How much should she add? One quick glance to make sure he hadn’t moved and she emptied the entire powdery contents into the whiskey, just managing to stow the locket back in her dress before he turned around. Swirling it, she made a show of bringing the flask to her lips again, making sure to keep her lips closed as she pretended to drink before handing it back to him, stifling her pang of regret. “No sign of anyone?”
“No.” He held the binoculars loosely at his side with one hand while bringing the flask to his lips with the other and taking a drink. The muscles working in his throat held her mesmerized as he swallowed and she knew then that it would be her life’s regret not to see more of those glorious muscles of his.
When he lowered the flask, she realized that he had caught her staring at him. His darkened gaze settled on her lips briefly before meeting her eyes, both of them reliving that kiss. His eyes were hot, blazing across the few feet separating them. “If my brothers are the giant and the Spaniard, who am I?”
“What do you mean?” Her heart pounded in her throat once before it skidded to a complete halt.
Taking another pull off the flask, he grinned. “I understand why you’d name him the giant. He’s one of the biggest men I’ve ever met. And the Spaniard, well, that’s obvious, too. But what have you named me?”
“I—I—what? Nothing. Nothing! I haven’t named you anything.” Her entire face flamed as her heartbeat seemed to have returned to beat an absurdly loud tempo in her ears. If she had to admit to naming him “The Pretty One” she’d die right here in this cave.
He was smiling as he looked down to screw the cap back on the flask and set it beside him. He was laughing at her and she was torn between dying of embarrassment and panicking because hewasn’t drinking the sleeping powders and she knew as diluted as they were, the little he’d had wouldn’t be enough.
“Let’s see.” He was still amused when he looked back up at her, seeming to consider his options. “You’ve named us based on our obvious physical attributes, so what’s the most prominent thing about me?”
She squeezed her eyes closed, certain that her nickname for him would be obvious. He knew he was pretty. Hell, Jake had known he was pretty.
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“That bad, huh?”
“No, not that bad.” She opened her eyes to see him still watching her, one arm draped lazily over his knee, the whiskey still at his side. How was she ever going to get him to drink more? “Take another drink and I’ll tell you.” She blurted those words out before she could figure out anything.
His brow furrowed and he looked down at the whiskey and then back at her. What a way to make him suspicious, Em! Dear Lord, she was horrible at this, whatever this was. Subterfuge. Finesse. Being clever.
“It’s embarrassing.” It was the only explanation she could offer. Still unable to get her brain wrapped around a coherent thought tight enough to formulate a plan, she walked on her knees to sit beside him while still facing him and grabbed the flask. Her fingers worked to unscrew the cap as she met his gaze. Lord, she couldn’t force him to drink.
Or could she? Her gaze shot to his mouth and her lips tingled as she imagined it on hers, a hasty plan formulating. “Will you promise not to say anything if I tell you?”
He nodded once. The mood had sobered and she wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. “I promise.” His deep voice filled the small gap between them, vibrating across her senses.
