Page 49 of Texas Destiny
“Not exactly.” She scooted a little closer to him. “You said you had needs—”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t you have needs?”
“Yeah, I got needs, but I shouldn’t tell a lady about them.”
“Why not?”
“I just shouldn’t, that’s all.
” She gnawed on her lip. “So I shouldn’t tell you I have needs, either?”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
Bringing the blanket more closely around her, she stared into the fire. She tried to imagine Dallas as she stared into the fire. She tried to imagine Dallas as she had envisioned him all those months, without a mustache and with blue eyes. She concentrated on the image she now had of him: brown eyes, a mustache. A woman’s dream. A dream she couldn’t yet touch … “I do have needs,” she said quietly. She turned her head slightly and thought he looked terrified. “I was thinking about what you said … that any woman would do. I’m wondering if it’s the same for me. If any man would satisfy what I’m feeling right now.”
“What exactly are you feeling?”
“That I want to be kissed. If you want to be kissed, and any woman would do, why not kiss me? Then both our needs would go away, and maybe we could both go to sleep instead of sitting here staring at the fire.”
“Id rather stare at the fire.”
Pain shot through her as though he’d just sent a herd of his horses stampeding over her heart. His words shouldn’t have hurt. He wasn’t the man she was going to marry—
“Don’t do that,” he ordered. “Don’t get those tears in your eyes.”
She gave him her back, fighting the sorrow, the anger, and the hurt. “It’s not fair. Until we crossed that river, I’d never been kissed.” Surging to her feet, she turned on him like a wolf trapped in the wilderness. “It wasn’t fair to give me these needs and then leave me to deal with them on my own. I’ve never felt like this … like I’ll die if you don’t kiss me.”
She whipped around and marched into the darkness away from the fire, immediately regretting her foolishness, but having too much pride to return to the warmth and the light. Surely, Dallas would want to kiss her and satisfy her needs anytime she wanted.
A large hand cradled her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I made a fool of myself. I can’t remember what Dallas wrote in his letters. I feel lost … just like all our belongings. And afraid. And—”
“He said he wasn’t lonely.” Gently, Houston turned her and nudged his hat up off her brow. The firelight crept over his shoulder and caressed the patch and scars while leaving his eye and unmarred cheek cast in darkness. Once, she would have wasted the moment trying to imagine him as he might have looked if he’d fought no battle. Now, she simply accepted the rugged features that war had carved into his face.
“He said a wife and sons would enrich his life.” He glided his hand from her shoulder up to her cheek and tilted her face. “He asked you to become his wife.”
“And I said yes, but surely a simple kiss …” Her voice trailed into silence as he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. Since the war, she had always feared the dark, and it seemed as though it had swallowed them both as he lowered his mouth to hers.
Leaning against him, she twined her arms around his neck, wanting him closer, relishing his warmth as it seeped into her.
He groaned deeply, and she felt the rumble of his chest against her breasts. He plowed his hand into her hair as his mouth plundered hers, his tongue probing, seeking, causing her toes to curl.
He slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her against his chest. She kissed his neck, his throat, his jaw as he carried her to the fire. She clutched his shirt as he laid her on the ground and fanned out the sides of his duster before stretching his body over hers and settling his mouth against hers.
She could hear the howling of the wind, the far-off cry of a wolf, and the beating of her own heart keeping pace with his. Needs swelled up within her, needs she’d never known existed. The hard, even lines of his body melded against her soft curves. Over the worn fabric of her bodice, he palmed her breast, kneading her flesh tenderly. She couldn’t hold back the whimper that rose in her throat or the desire that exploded like fireworks on the Fourth of July. She arched her back, wanting, needing him closer than he was.
He dipped his head and trailed kisses along the column of her throat.
“It’s not working,” she rasped.
“I know.” Lifting his head, he gazed down on her, brushing the stray strands of hair away from her cheeks.
“You knew it wouldn’t work, that what I was proposing was silly—”
“Not silly.” A wealth of tenderness filled his gaze. “Definitely not silly.”
“I need more.”
