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"Ssh," he whispered against her ear, his breath as hot as the sunlight overhead.
His hands moved back up, with deliberate slowness, up the flat surface of her stomach, over the damp fabric of her bra. The roughened tips of his fingers curled under the wide straps, flipped them down onto her shoulders, where they tapped lightly against her skin. Then his hands disappeared for a split second and reappeared beneath her arms. The bra pulled taut against her breasts as he took hold of it.
He pushed the elasticized fabric down to her waist. She leaned back against him, her breasts free and bare beneath the hot sun. The feeling was deliciously forbidden, and made her forget everything except the moist heat of his breath on the back of her neck and the strong certainty of the arms around her waist.
His fingers grazed up her naked stomach, setting off a flurry of goose bumps. His palms cupped her breasts, holding them as his thumbs breezed across her nipples, coaxing them instantly to hardness.
She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of him. It felt so good to be touched and held like this, to be stroked and cared for and protected. There was a wickedness to it, too, that added to her excitement. Out here all alone in the middle of nowhere, naked and vulnerable ...
His hands slid out from underneath her breasts and moved to her nipples, only her nipples. Fingers closed around the pink tips, tugging, teasing. A fiery twinge of desire clutched her between the legs, sent the blood racing through her veins. She let out a breathy little half laugh that sounded more like a sigh.
He kissed the back of her neck and trailed the hard, wet tip of his tongue along her flesh. She shivered at the strange mix of feelings: the hot sun on her naked flesh, the moisture of his tongue along her skin, the
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rough fabric of his shirt against her back, the cool weight of the amethyst. His hands moved more ardently on her breasts, pulling and plucking and twirling her nipples until she was breathless.
He made a quiet, clicking sound behind her, and the horse leapt into a slow trot.
Lainie slammed down into the saddle, the leather curved around her crotch. She made a moaning sound of pleasure at the contact.
She arched into his hand, drove her body against the hard leather of the saddle. Beneath her, the horse's gait moved in tandem with Killian's hands on her breasts. Sensations exploded in her body, so suddenly she was left dizzy and light-headed.
"Oh, God, Killian," she groaned, feeling a hot surge of moisture between her legs.
"Whoa," he whispered hoarsely.
The horse stopped and Lainie immediately twisted around to reach for Killian. She grabbed air. She opened her eyes, blinking slowly. Her body felt drugged, aching with need for his touch. "Wha?"
"Down here."
He was standing beside her, his hands upheld. She swung her leg around and slithered down into his arms. He embraced her, held her close. The damp, sweaty smell of him filled her senses. She couldn't help herself. The need was a burning fire between her legs. Wantonly she arched forward, rubbed against him, feeling the evidence of his own desire.
He threw an arm around her and dragged her close. Her breasts pressed against his upper arm, her head lolled back. He tied the reins around a hitching post.
A hitching post?
Lainie glanced around suddenly, noticing for the first time the little cabin in front of them. It sat huddled
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against a sheer rock wall, its front door hanging awkwardly on broken hinges. Broken bricks lay scattered around the base of a serrated chimney.
"Home sweet home for the night," Killian growled against her ear, sweeping her into his arms. She laughed and threw her arms around his neck. In an instant, all thoughts of where they were vanished, buried beneath an avalanche of awakening desire. The need for him returned, surged through her blood, and left a painful ache in its wake.
He kicked the sagging door open. It swung inward with a creaking whine and slammed against the wall. Dust showered down from the rafters, pattered the debris-strewn floor. The sour, dank smell of mold and old dirt filled the little room.
They came together for a hard, desperate kiss that drove the cool metal of the necklace against her hot flesh. His hands seemed suddenly to be everywhere, rubbing, feeling, stroking, bringing her nipples to aching hardness. She leaned toward him, pressed her heavy, tingling breasts against his chest. The rough fabric of his shirt abraded her nipples, teased and taunted them.
He made a low, groaning sound at the contact and wrenched the fly of her Levi's open. The copper rivets popped free, the worn denim gaped across her abdomen. Cool air rushed in to graze her skin, made her flesh pucker with goose bumps.
She felt a shudder of raw, almost violent need. She grabbed his shirt collar and fumbled furiously with his buttons, ripping one off in her haste to feel his skin against hers, to taste the sweet, salty tang of it. He shrugged out of the shirt and tossed it aside. Dimly she was aware of the pale blue fabric flying through the air; it landed on a skinned log bedpost and flagged downward.
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He backed her against the wall. She hit with a thud and reached for the buttons of his trousers. Wrenching them from their buttonholes, she shoved his pants down the long, hard length of his legs.
