Runaway. Carolyn DavidsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
tendrils fell forward, her untended hair loosening from its braid. Then she sat back on her heels, gathering the warmth to herself, reluctant to leave the small haven of comfort.
It was there he found her, kneeling before the small blaze she tended, her unruly hair and smudged cheeks those of an urchin. And yet there was about her an allure he could not fathom. The soft line of her cheek, lashes shadowing the pale flesh, the profile of feminine curves as she lifted her hand to brush at a wisp of dark hair. Her arm lifting high pulled at the fabric of her shirt, its soft weave revealing the swell of her breast.
He inhaled sharply, pierced by his awareness of the woman kneeling before him. His eyes narrowed as his gaze slid up over the generous curve of her bottom to where her waist was cinched with the length of belt he’d given her.
Desire, hot and consuming, drenched him in its depths. The heat of his arousal was immediate, from the flaming ridge across his cheekbones to the throbbing warmth in his groin. His breath caught again, a rasping sound that drew her attention, and she turned, her eyes wide and startled, as if he’d drawn her from a dream.
As women went, she was far from the most seductive he’d ever seen. Hell, she wasn’t much more than a child, all innocent and unknowing, her face smudged, her eyes anxious, her mouth soft and inviting as she opened it to speak.
“Will?” Hastily she rose, brushing her hands together, then wiping them against the sides of her denim pants. “I was about to go out and gather more firewood.” She hesitated, uneasy as she searched his face, her fingers clenching into fists. Poised as if for flight, she looked away from him, to the doorway, then beyond, where the long branches of the willow beside the house swept the ground.
“The wind’s coming up,” she said in a wispy, small voice, sidling toward the open doorway. “I’d better look for wood before we get a downpour.”
“Cassie.” He spoke her name in a gruff exhalation of breath, his eyes closing for just a moment.
Her gaze skittered from the bleak vista beyond the doorway to clash with his as his lashes lifted. Allowing his mind to fill with her image—slender, bedraggled and all too tempting—he cast aside the caution he’d managed to gather.
“Come here.” He spoke the words—softly uttered, but more than a request nonetheless—that would bring her to him. That she would not heed the implicit order never entered his head. Cassie had put herself under his care.
He watched as she turned reluctantly in his direction, his whole frame taut with the desire he fought to contain. Perhaps just holding her would suffice. He could gather that small body against himself, soothe his passion with the warmth of her soft, resilient flesh, surround himself for just a moment with the female scent that rose from her as an elusive, faint enticement.
“Will?” She stood before him, her eyes wide, her mouth soft, her bottom lip trembling. “What is it? Is something wrong?” Apprehension brought a frown to mar the smooth line of her forehead, and he lifted his hand, fingers smoothing at the lines.
“No.” Abrupt, at odds with the gentle caress he bestowed upon her skin, his voice growled the single syllable.
She flinched beneath his touch and tilted her head to one side. “Will?” Her whisper was wavering, her nostrils flaring as if she scented a danger she could not comprehend.
She was more than he could resist, more than his self-control could deny. His hands met behind her waist in a smooth movement that caught her unaware. He tugged at her, catching her off balance, and she tumbled against him, lifting her hands in an automatic gesture to grip his shoulders. His head dipped, his jaw against her temple, his eyes closing as he deliberately blotted from his mind the gray skies outside the cabin, the dingy interior of the small room.
For this moment, for just these few seconds, he basked in the softness of the woman he held. His palms flat against her back, he urged her closer, forming her to his needy flesh. His heart pounded with a steady, harsh beat, radiating within his body like the sounding of a drum in his ears.
She stiffened for a moment, her breathing uneven, and he felt her tremble against him. Her face turned in the direction of his, tilting back until her mouth brushed against the line of his chin, opening so that he felt the moisture of her inner lips upon his skin. She kissed him there, rising on her tiptoes to whisper a string of soft words against his whiskered jaw.
“What is it, Will? Can I help? Is something wrong?” Her hands released their hold on his shoulders and slid to his nape, gripping tightly against his spine. She curled against him, forming her curves to the firm muscles of his chest, as if she would offer comfort, her fingers rubbing in a soothing rhythm.
A groan he could not stifle rose to his lips. Could she help? The one thing that would be guaranteed to solve his immediate problem was not an option, he admitted to himself ruefully. That this young woman would so innocently offer compassion, unknowing of his instinctive desire for her, was the crowning touch.
“Just let me hang on to you for a minute, Cassie.” The words were muffled as he turned his mouth against her forehead.
She nodded, and his lips brushed her skin in an automatic caress. Probably the only clean spot on her face, he thought, his mouth twisting in an unwilling grin. And even that fact did not deter him. Beneath the smudges, the evidence of her hours on the trail, was the face of a girl…no, the face of a woman who had survived a hard night of riding without complaint. Whose small, compact body was pressed against his, whose lips were temptingly close.
He brushed his lips against her mouth and felt an eager trembling there as she responded, bringing to life a renewed surge of desire rising within him. Casting aside the good intentions he’d vowed to observe, he slid one hand up her back to hold her head in place for his kiss. She murmured beneath her breath, a soft, acquiescent whimper, and his jaw tightened, a sense of male triumph invading his very being.
Against her lower back his hand spread, fingers splayed widely, his palm pressing her firmly against his belly. His arousal met her there and he held her tightly in place, easing the tension of his needy flesh against her groin.
His mouth opening over hers, he delved deep, past the soft lips that parted for his entry, teasing the length of her tongue as it evaded his pursuit. She whimpered, almost a protest Then, inhaling sharply through her nostrils, she joined the game he had begun. Their mouths met with seamless measure, hers opening to match the outline of his lips. Their tongues stroked, languidly touching, lavishly tasting.
Her flavor was like the fine wine he’d tasted once in a fancy place in San Antone, like bubbles and sweetness with a tartness overlaying the whole. He relished the flavor of her, inhaling the scent of her skin, his fingers twisting in her hair, his other hand almost brutal in his strength as he pressed her close. His body surged against her in a primitive motion, muscles taut, his need a barely controlled entity.
And then, with a shudder, he lifted his head, his eyelids heavy as he forced them open, anxious lest he find Cassie’s face a frightened mask. That she had kissed him with fervor was a fact. That she would be fearful of her own actions was a possibility.
Her blue eyes were unfocused, as if she saw him with blurred vision, her cheeks flushed, her mouth open, lips shiny with the residue of their passion. She blinked, peering at him like a newborn baby he’d seen once in a hovel outside Amarillo. Such innocence was not to be believed. Not from the woman who had just met his kiss with impassioned fervor.
“Will? Is kissing supposed to be like that?” Her voice filled with wonder, she blinked again, as if awakening from a particularly delightful dream.
And this was no dream, he decided. More like a nightmare, what with him coaxing her into a seduction he had no intention of pursuing. “It is if the right two people are doin’ the kissin’,” he said, inhaling deeply, tamping down the desire he had allowed full sway for these few moments.
“I feel…” She hesitated, her tongue touching her lips with a tentative gesture. “I’m sort of woozy,” she said finally. “Maybe I’m just hungry.”
“Yeah.”