her skin wherever he paused to taste, to kiss. His hand moved over the vest and pushed beneath her breast, shoving the mound up slightly so he could kiss the skin just above the material.
She started to say something but couldn’t seem to think of words. He stopped her attempt by returning to her mouth and kissing her until she forgot even trying to make an effort to speak. What he was doing to her was beyond what she thought could happen, and it felt so much better than anything she’d ever known.
She felt boneless in his arms. She felt worshipped, cherished. He held her tightly with one arm as he raised his head and stared down into her eyes. Silently, he studied her as his hand moved over the vest until it rested, spread over her breast, and then he tightened his grip ever so slightly and she arched her back with the jolt of pleasure that shot through her body.
His slow smile warmed her from inside as his hand relaxed, then pressed slightly once more over the peak of her breast. When his fingers tightened again, she rode a wave of fire streaming through her. He smiled, knowing he was learning what brought her joy.
He whispered softly against her ear as his hand moved down to her waist, and for a while he felt each breath she took with the rise and fall of his hand. While she calmed, he kissed first her ear, then gently down her throat. “Hush now, my Em,” he whispered when he returned to her ear. “Relax. Don’t be afraid of me. I would never hurt you.”
Then he moved back to brush her mouth feather light as his hand crossed tenderly back to her breast. This time she felt the warmth of his fingers through the thin material of the vest. He was touching her with a boldness that surprised her. She leaned into his palm, wanting his caress, wanting the pleasure of it.
When her mouth opened to sigh, he kissed her again, deep and endless, and all the while his hand held a firm grip over her breast.
Wave after wave of passion washed over her tired body. He trailed his fingers along her legs and kissed her throat all the way down to where the buttons held the vest together. When he stopped kissing her long enough to look into her eyes, she watched him smile, and she knew he was loving this moment as dearly as she did.
She kissed him back, enjoying the way his arm tightened around her when she explored his mouth. But she didn’t touch him. She didn’t know how. And he didn’t venture further, though she doubted she would have stopped him. What few clothes she had on, stayed on.
Finally, when she was exhausted and cuddling in his arms, he whispered as his fingers moved lazily down her throat, “Don’t say a word, Em. Not one word. We have to go, but I want to hold you longer in my thoughts.”
She understood. Slowly, with several last kisses, she left his arms and dressed. She was aware of him doing the same. They collected their belongings and started out again, the afternoon sun burning away newly made memories.
Neither said a word, but now and then his hand would brush across her leg in a familiar way of one who knows his touch will be welcomed, or his arm would press against the side of her breast and she knew they were both remembering.
When they stopped to water the horses, he stepped in front of her, cupped the back of her head gently, and kissed her so sweetly she wanted to cry. Only their lips touched, but the memory of the way he’d held her returned almost as if they were back by the fire.
The next time they stopped, the sun was setting and they saw the campsite they’d camped at just before they’d crossed into Mexico.
He circled his arm about her waist and pulled her back against him. “What we had back there was real, Em. Not pretend, or lies, or the way we thought we should be. It was the most beautiful hour I’ve lived. No matter what happens after we ride into camp, the way I feel about you, the way I want to hold you, won’t change but like you did by the fire, you’ll have to come to me. I’ll not come to you. When, or if, we go further has to be up