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He kissed her again, left her only long enough to switch on a lamp and fight for control. When he turned to her again and stripped off his shirt, he saw a delicate flush rise in her cheeks.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, and she touched him, running her hand lightly over his chest, stroking the tapering line of dark hair that arrowed down his belly. She hesitated, looked up and into his eyes, and cupped her hand over the straining denim that defined the power of what she’d done to him.
He groaned, covered her hand with his, endured that sweet, yearning touch as long as he could without going crazy.
“You’re the one who’s beautiful,” he said, and he drew her close and undid the long zipper down the back of her dress.
Her eyes turned to a smoky gold. She watched his face as he undressed her. He did it slowly, as slowly as he could manage without coming apart. She trembled under the brush of his hands, sighed as he bared her to his eyes and mouth, and when she stood before him, wearing only a wisp of white lace and her high-heeled sandals, he knelt before her, curved his hands around her hips, kissed his way down her belly.
She trembled.
“Oh,” she whispered, “oh, Lord…”
He pulled the wisp of lace aside, touched her. Felt the dew of her feminine heart against his hand, and then he put his mouth to her, stroked her with his tongue, kissed her and caressed her until she cried out. He rose then, scooped her into his arms, and brought her down onto the bed.
“Tyler,” she said, in a voice filled with wonder. “Tyler…”
She held her arms up to him and he went into them, kissing her mouth, her throat, kissing her breasts, exulting in the taste of her honey-sweet skin. She moaned and arched toward him as he kissed her mouth again and stroked his tongue against hers.
“Please,” she sobbed, “Tyler, please…”
“You belong to me,” he said fiercely, as he parted her thighs.
“Yes,” she said, “yes, oh, yes, Tyler, yes…”
He kissed her again and she returned his kisses the same way, with hunger, not with tenderness, her need for him as complete as her surrender. She tugged at his jeans, making desperate little cries, and he rolled away from her, yanked down his zipper, kicked off his boots, his jeans, his shorts, and she lifted her arms to him, her eyes as deep and dark as the night.
“Come into me,” she whispered. “Tyler, please, take me. Take me…”
And, on one long, possessive, silken thrust, he did.
CHAPTER TEN
HAD hours gone by, or was it only moments?
Caitlin couldn’t tell. She’d shattered in Tyler’s arms, shattered into a million pieces and soared with him into the hot, molten heart of the sun. Now, lying beneath him, her heart still racing against his, his face buried in her throat, she knew that nothing in her life had prepared her for tonight.
Giving herself to Tyler had changed her, forever.
She sighed, stirred in his embrace.
He felt her shift beneath him. “I’m crushing you,” he said softly, but when he tried to roll off her, she shook her head and tightened her arms around him.
“Stay,” she whispered, and closed her eyes, not trusting herself to say more because her throat felt constricted, as if she might weep, and she didn’t want that to happen.
If she wept, how would she explain that it was from joy and not from sorrow?
“Stay with me,” she whispered again, and she felt his lips curve against her throat.
He was holding her close. And it felt so right to lie with him this way, with his body over hers, protecting her. She could feel the beat of his heart as it steadied and slowed, smell his scent. The taste of him lingered on her mouth.
He was still inside her, still a part of her, joined to her in a way she’d never been joined with any man before.
And she was glad, so glad, that Tyler had been the first.
She hadn’t planned it this way; she’d never consciously thought about “saving” herself for any one man. There’d been opportunities. Boys in high school, even one she’d gone steady with. There’d been boys during the two years she’d spent away at college, too, and once in a while she went to the movies or out dancing with a nice guy who was the foreman of a neighboring ranch.
The thing of it was, there’d never been anyone who really mattered.
Sometimes, she’d even wondered if she was lacking something. She had a secret passion for romance novels and for movies that made her cry. She kept those things to herself because it was tough enough riding herd on a bunch of cowboys and standing up to Jonas without having anybody know about her secret vices. She’d decided that maybe she was just one of those women who found their passion in make-believe worlds, not in the real one.
That was okay. It was safer.
And yet—and yet, what she’d felt in Tyler’s arms put her “secret passions” into perspective. Fantasy didn’t stand up to reality. His touch, his kisses, the way he’d made love to her…
Nothing, nothing, had prepared for this night.
Tyler whispered her name, rose on one elbow and kissed her mouth. He took his time doing it, sucking on her bottom lip, teasing her lips open, stroking the tip of his tongue against hers. Sensation after sensation raced through her, turning her inside out, threatening to stop her heart.
It was just a kiss, and it thrilled her.
“You taste delicious,” he said softly.
Caitlin smiled. “So do you.”
“Like…” He frowned, bent to her, kissed her again. “I can’t decide. Like whipped cream? Honey?” Gently he nibbled her mouth. “Or maybe cotton candy.”
“Cotton candy?” she said, and laughed.
“Mmm. Pink cotton candy, and I’ve always had a weakness for pink cotton candy.” He smiled, stroked her hair back from her face. “Cait? Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Sweetheart, you should have told me.”
Caitlin blushed. “I tried to.”
Suddenly she felt unaccountably shy. It was silly, considering what they had just done, but there was something about lying naked in a man’s arms and discussing the loss of your virginity…
“Yeah.” His voice was rough. “I was beyond listening.”
“Would it—would it have mattered?”
Tyler caught an auburn curl in his fingers and brought it to his mouth. “I’d have gone slower,” he said softly, “or I’d have tried to. Did I hurt you?”
“No. Oh, no. You didn’t hurt me. It was—it was—”
“Wonderful,” he said gently.
“Yes. Incredible. I thought my heart would—would—”
“Burst? Yes, I know.” He
rolled to his side and took her with him, still holding her, still inside her, still wondering how such a miracle could have happened. He was a man who believed in equality. He’d never condemned a woman in his life for having the same sexual appetites and experience a man had, but that moment when he’d felt that fragile barrier, when he’d realized he was Caitlin’s first lover…He gave her a lingering, tender kiss. “That’s how it was for me, too.”
“I’m glad.” She felt the rush of heat in her face and knew she was blushing. “I mean, some men might not be thrilled to find themselves making love to—to—”
Tyler slipped his hand into Caitlin’s hair, watched as the colors of autumn slid through his fingers.
“A virgin,” he said softly.
“Yes. Oh, it’s such an old-fashioned word.”
“It’s a beautiful word,” Tyler whispered, and kissed her again.
Caitlin sighed and snuggled closer in his arms. “I’m glad you think so.”
“What man wouldn’t?”
“Well, you have to remember…” She smiled and touched her hand to his face. “I grew up with three brothers.”
“Stepbrothers,” he said quickly. “You’re not really related to Jonas.”
“Of course not.” Her smile tilted. “He never lets me forget that.”
“Hell,” Tyler said, and leaned his forehead against hers. “I didn’t mean…I just…” Tell her, a voice inside suddenly said, tell her why you needed to say that, that you had to remind her that there’s no Baron blood in her veins. Tell her the truth. Who you think you are. Hell, who you know you are. That you’re a Baron, but your own father got rid of you…
“Tyler?”
He blinked and focused on Caitlin’s face. Her eyes were dark with concern. Concern, for him. No one, no woman, had ever looked at him that way.
“Tyler, what is it?” She lifted her hand to his cheek and he turned his face, pressed his mouth against her palm. “I know you and Jonas dislike each other, but he’s been good to me. He raised me. And now—”
Tyler silenced her with a kiss. These moments belonged to the two of them. The last thing he wanted was to hear the woman in his arms defend the son of a bitch he was going to destroy. And he had to destroy him. It was either that or spend the rest of his life consumed by hatred.
