Page 58 of Texas Destiny
“It’ll probably be something you don’t want to answer.”
“I don’t want to answer any of them.”
“All right.” She shifted her backside, planted her elbow on her thigh, her chin in her palm, and studied the scowling man, wondering what she could ask that would present a challenge but not scare him off. “When you cry out in your sleep, are you dreaming about the war?”
“A dream is something you want. No, I don’t dream about the war.” He looked toward the fire. “But it’s there in my head when I sleep.” He shifted his gaze back to her. “This sure ain’t like any game I ever played.”
“When was the last time you played a game … not counting checkers?”
“How many questions do you get?” She smiled. “You’re right. Your turn. I’ll take a question.” “Anything?” “Anything.”
Houston stretched out beside her and traced a finger in the dirt. He could ask her anything, and she’d answer it. Maybe she would have all along, but asking questions was as foreign to him as giving an apology had once been. He didn’t want to parrot her, but he couldn’t think of anything to ask. “Sometimes, you whimper in your sleep. What are you thinking about then?”
“My sisters … as they were the last time I saw them.”
“I should have figured that.”
“I don’t dream about them as much since the storm, since I told you about them. And more often when I do dream about them, I see them as they were before the war … when we played games like this. It still hurts to think about them, but it’s a different sort of hurt. A good hurt.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. What exactly is a good hurt?”
She held up a finger. “One question. Tell me the truth or take a dare.”
“A dare, I reckon. I’ve answered enough questions.”
She eased alongside him. “Kiss me as though I had no contract binding me to another.”
“You don’t want that.”
“Afraid?”
Hell, yes, he was afraid. Afraid he’d forget that she was bound to his brother. Afraid he wouldn’t find the strength to keep riding west in the morning. Afraid she’d touch the part of him that longed for softness until he couldn’t ignore it. “Unbraid your hair,” he rasped.
She sat up and draped the long braid over one shoulder. Nimbly her fingers worked the strands free. The firelight sent its red glow over her golden tresses, each strand seeming to have a life of its own as it curled over her shoulder, circled the curve of her breast, trailed down to her waist.
It was her game, her rules. He’d always been afraid not to follow the rules or to stray from the path. She ran her tongue over her lips, the innocent woman he knew turning into a temptress. Raised on an elbow, he threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her mouth down to his.
She released a sound, more of a mewl than a whimper, her lips parting slightly in invitation. He didn’t have to be asked twice.
Rolling her over, he slipped his tongue into her mouth and relished the feel of heaven.
Amelia ignored the hard ground below her, and welcomed the firm man above her. His fevered kiss curled her toes as she rubbed her foot along his calf. Groaning, he slipped his knee between her thighs, and she arched up against him.
He tore his mouth from hers, his breathing labored as he laid his bristly cheek against hers. “Don’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t,” he rasped as he brought his mouth back to hers.
She thought his hot mouth might devour her, and she didn’t care. She had embraced Dallas’s dreams, but now she wanted more. She wanted love; she wanted to feel the sunrise in a kiss, the glow of a full moon in a touch, the warmth of the fire in a caress.
His questing mouth gentled, but his fingers tightened their hold.
“God, I want to touch you,” he said in a husky voice as he trailed his mouth along the column of her throat.
“Then do.”
He chuckled low. “Woman, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
