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him bring her so close that she could feel the corded muscles of his thighs, the flatness of his belly, the
warmth of his broad chest against her soft breasts as his arms tightened.
He groaned and she answered him, her body so perfectly attuned to his that she matched every single
movement he made.
Slowly her arms inched around his waist and she moved helplessly against the muscles of his body. He
was against her, around her, sheltering and comforting her. Nothing could ever harm her again.
His tongue teased lightly into her mouth and then began quite suddenly to stab at it, producing the most
intensely private sensations in the lower part of her body.
She tensed and tried to pull away, but his arms refused to release her. The movements became quicker,
rhythmic, deep. She made a sound that she'd never made before and tried to twist upward in his arms,
seeking blindly for a contact that would ease the powerful need he was building in her untried body.
As if he knew what she needed, his hands suddenly dropped to her hips and lifted her into the cradle of
his own, bringing her into a contact that shocked even as it aroused.
She protested under his mouth. He lifted his head and watched her eyes with sensual mastery as his hands
contracted, pressing her belly into a most blatant evidence of capability.
Her eyes shared everything with him: her fear, her vulnerability, her shock, her delight in his masculinity.
Everything.
"Yes," he whispered gruffly. He nodded and his mouth settled slowly back on her own. She was no longer
protesting anything, and his hands were moving her in a lazy rhythm, which produced choked little cries of
pleasure.
When the building tension was more than she could bear, he wrapped his arms around her and all but
crushed her, groaning into her mouth as he felt her shiver.
He was breathing raggedly and his legs were unsteady, as was her whole, soft body. He wanted her. There
was a barn nearby, but it was full of kids. There was a house behind them, but it was full of adults. The
ground was hard and cold, and very public. He cursed under his breath in anguish and his big body
shuddered in response to her need.
He drew back, his face hard with passion and frustration.
Kit looked up at him, blazing with needs she hadn't even known existed. Her legs almost went out from
under her, her body throbbed so with unsatisfied desire. "I hate you!" she said, choking. She hit his chest,
hard, once, twice, shaking with what she supposed was rage at his presumption and his teasing.
"Here, it's all right," he whispered. His arms enveloped her leaving a little space between their bodies as
he comforted stroked her hair and whispered words of soft reassurance.
Tears ran down her cheeks as she struggled for composure. He felt a tremor in his own body. It had been a
near thing. Imagine, he thought, with Kit, of all people!
His eyes opened and he saw the barn. The doors were closed, thank God, although there was one kid in
the loft getting an eyeful. Polk. The quiet one. He darted back when he saw Logan's head lift.
"Spying on us, the devils," he murmured against Kit's temple.
"What?" Her soft voice was shaken, beautiful.
He lifted his head and smiled down at her. "The kids. They're up in the loft watching us."
She blushed. "Oh, my!"
His eyes kindled as he studied her. She was vulnerable. Now he knew it, but he didn't know what to do
about it. His whole body ached from the heat of hers.
"You dress like someone who was raised in a convent," he said quietly. "But you kiss like a wild
woman."
"Now you know what kind of night school courses I took year before last!" she said sarcastically, pushing
at his chest.
He let her go, watching her try to get herself together. It amazed him that he could knock the logical, very
prim Miss Morris off her pins. It delighted him. Betsy was a woman of the world, but this unique little
sparrow wasn't used to men at all. The contrast was surprising. He found that he much preferred teaching
Kit to having Betsy tutor him in what pleased her.
"Innocence in these confused times is a rare jewel indeed," he murmured, watching her.
She glared at him. "My jewel is none of your business," she muttered. "And how do you know, anyway?"
"I don't," he agreed. He grinned slowly. "But I could find out in ten minutes flat with a little cooperation,"
he added. "How about it?"
She latched on to what he was suggesting at once. "Mr. Deverell!"
She didn't know whether to gasp or laugh or kick him very hard. She walked on toward the barn without
saying anything at all. The barn door opened and all three kids smiled at them with very knowing faces.
"Where are the kittens?" Kit asked.
"Right over here," Amy volunteered, leading them. "Uh, Polk and Guy and I have to go get cleaned up.
We'll see you later!"
There was a scurrying sound and the barn door closed, but Kit would have bet her socks that the kids
were still inside.
She exchanged a glance with Logan, who actually grinned.
"Aren't they cute?" she asked, reaching down to pick up a kitten and stroke and caress it.
"Yes, they're cute," he mused, paying much more attention to Kit's rapt face than the small felines. He knelt
beside her and gave the cats equal attention.
Nothing else was said for several long minutes.
"Damn!" came a long-suffering exclamation from Guy, who stood up along with his siblings, cast a
disgusted look at the adults and stalked out of the barn. The other two went with him, trying to look both
sheepish and angry at the same time.
Logan chuckled. "I suppose they were expecting a floor show."
"Those kids know too much already," she said, refusing to be baited. "But they're sweet children."
"They are not! Why do you think the family avoids this place like the plague? My cousin Belinda came
down here to spend the night last year and the little monsters put an armadillo in the bed with her."
She whistled. "I'm glad they like me!"
"You'd better be. They defanged a rattler and shoved it in my room the first time I was fool enough to
spend a night here."
"What did you do?"
"I went out the window, of course," he said. "Stark naked, because that's how I sleep, and I think I took at
least two-hundred dollars worth of pane glass with me."
She could almost picture it. "Weren't you hurt?"
"Only my pride. The glass did very little damage. Fortunately for them. I haven't been back since, until [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]