Calder Brand - Janet Dailey Page 0,66

trembling. He held her close, feeling her naked curves beneath the fabric of her nightgown. “I told you to stay in your bedroom,” he said. “But I should’ve known you wouldn’t.”

“You know me.” Her arms tightened around him. “Sometimes I think you’re the only person who does.”

He kissed her upturned face, her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, and her ripe, silky mouth. Her lips parted. The first tentative flick of her tongue lit a fire in him. He responded in kind, tasting her, thrusting into the moist warmth, as he imagined a different thrusting, a different moist heat. His body was rock hard, ready for her, the urge so powerful that he knew he couldn’t make himself stop what was happening—nor did he want to. Neither, it seemed, did Sarah.

She moaned, stretching on tiptoe to mold her body to his. His hands traced her womanly curves through the nightgown, the smooth arch of her back, the firm, round moons of her buttocks. With a boldness that took his breath away, he raised the hem of the nightgown and touched her bare skin. How could anything on God’s earth be so soft? She whimpered as he stroked her back, his fingertips stealing around to skim the edge of one breast.

Should he tell her she could stop him if she wanted? Or did that no longer matter. “Sarah—”

She touched a finger to his lips. “Don’t talk, Joe,” she said. “Words will just complicate things.”

She fumbled with his shirt buttons, but her hands were shaking. Was this her first time, too? But that didn’t matter, and he wasn’t about to ask. All he knew was that he wanted her. And he wanted this to be as right for her as it was for him.

Somehow, with his arousal jutting, he made it out of his shirt, pants, and boots and into the bedroom. She slipped into bed and held out her arms to him. Dropping his drawers in the darkness, he moved in beside her and gathered her close. She was still wearing her nightgown, but it came off easily. Naked and trembling, she lay in his arms. She was so beautiful, so perfect. Guided by instinct and desire, he cradled her breasts, stroking and kissing them.

Her breathing quickened. A moan of pleasure stirred in her throat. Then, as if she’d caught fire, she began exploring and caressing his skin. She’d touched him while caring for his wounds, but never before like this, tender and curious, stroking his chest, tracing the line of hair down his belly, then, suddenly, hesitating.

“Don’t be afraid, Sarah. Touch me.” His voice emerged as a husky growl. Gently, he guided her. As her fingers closed around him, he nearly exploded in her hand. With a rough chuckle, he pulled her hand away and kissed it.

“Yes,” she whispered, saying everything in a single word.

Unable to wait any longer, he shifted and moved between her legs. She opened to him like a flower, all slick, petal-soft folds. As he thrust into that warm, honeyed wetness, he felt a slight resistance. She gave a little cry as something gave way, then clasped his buttocks and pulled him deep inside her, holding him a long moment before need drove them to move.

There were no words for the feel of loving her, pushing deep while she met each thrust. He felt his release mounting, surging. Just when he couldn’t hold back any longer, she gave a gasp. “Oh . . .” she whispered. “It’s so . . .”

He shattered, his senses soaring like rocket bursts. Then he drifted back to Earth and lay spent in her arms, feeling more contented than he’d ever been in his life.

And knowing that their time together had to be over.

She nestled close, pressing her face against his chest. “I can’t stay, Sarah,” he said. “My being here puts you in danger as well as me.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I know. Just hold me a little longer.”

“Here, then.” He spooned her against him, cradling her like a child. Without her asking, the words began to flow. He told her all the things he’d been holding back—the stampede and the fall, the surge of hope when Benteen Calder had almost found him, and the sense of betrayal when he’d ridden away; then his struggle to survive, his rescue by the McCrackens, his time with Elijah and the horses; and finally, his near-fatal decision to raid the Calder herd, and the act of mercy that had given him a