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“You know where,” she cried.
He brusquely unsnapped her cutoffs and slid down the zipper. Her brief panties did little more than cover the triangle of curls. He wanted to smile, but his face was too set with passion, so he couldn’t. He merely growled his approval as he pulled down the panties along with her cutoffs. He kissed the gingery down.
Rusty’s strength deserted her. She let go of the crutches. They clattered
to the floor. She fell forward slightly, breaking her fall by placing her hands on Cooper’s shoulders. As she did so, he slid off the seat of the chair and sank to his knees in front of her.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth to keep from screaming with pleasure as he parted her dewy flesh with his thumbs and buried his tongue in the softness.
He didn’t stop there. He didn’t stop at all. Not after the first wave of ecstasy swept over her. Not even after the second had claimed her. He didn’t stop until her body was glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration, until tendrils of russet hair were clinging damply to her temples and cheeks and neck, until she was quivering with aftershocks.
Only then did he rise to his feet and take her in his arms. “Which way?” His face was softer than she’d ever seen it as it bent over hers. The guarded chill was no longer in his eyes. In its place were sparks of some strong emotion she dared to hope was love.
She raised her hand and pointed in the general direction of the bedroom. He found it without difficulty. Since she’d spent a great deal of time in that room recently, it had a homey, lived-in aspect that apparently appealed to him. He smiled as he carried her through the doorway. Gently he stood her on her left leg and threw back the covers on the bed. “Lie down.”
She did, watching as he went into the bathroom. She heard water running. Moments later, he came back carrying a damp cloth. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes as he drew her into a sitting position and eased off her blouse. Removing her brassiere only required sliding the straps off her arms. She sat before him totally naked, and marvelously unashamed.
He ran the cool, damp cloth over her arms and shoulders and around her neck. After he had eased her back onto the pillows, he raised her arms over her head and washed the shallow cups of her armpits. She purred in surprised satisfaction; he ducked his head and kissed her moaning mouth.
He moved the cloth over her chest, then her breasts. Her nipples drew up again and he smiled. He touched a rosy whisker-burn on her tender flesh.
“I always seem to leave a mark on you,” he said with a trace of regret. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
His eyes glowed hotly as they moved down her stomach to her navel. He licked the sweat out of it before bathing the rest of her abdomen with the cloth. Then he washed her legs, being careful of her new scar. “Turn over.”
Rusty gazed up at him inquisitively, but she turned over on her stomach and rested her cheek on her stacked hands. Leisurely, he washed her entire back with the cloth. At the small of her back, he paused, then ran the cloth over the cheeks of her bottom.
“Hmm,” she sighed.
“That’s for me to say.”
“Go right ahead.”
“Hmm.” He spent far more time than was necessary to wash away any perspiration. He sponged the backs of her legs all the way down to the soles of her feet, which he discovered were ticklish. On his way back up, he lingered to taste the backs of her knees.
“Just relax a minute,” he told her as he left the bed to undress.
“Easy for you to say. You haven’t been subjected to heavy petting.”
“Brace yourself, baby. You’ve got more coming.”
Rusty wasn’t quite braced for him to lie naked and warm along the length of her back. She drew in a jagged breath and shivered with the startling impact of his hair-roughened skin against the smoothness of her back. His opened thighs sandwiched hers. Her bottom fit snugly against his sex. It was solid with desire and as smooth as velvet-sheathed steel as it rubbed against her.
He covered the backs of her hands with his palms, interlacing their fingers, and used his nose to move aside her ponytail so his lips could get to her ear.
“I can’t do anything for wanting you,” he whispered gruffly. “Can’t work. Sleep. Eat. There’s no comfort in my getaway house anymore. You ruined it for me. The mountains aren’t beautiful anymore. Your face has blinded me to them.”
He rocked against her and made an upward thrust, settling himself more firmly against her. “I thought I’d work you out of my system, but so far I’ve failed. I even went to Vegas and bought a woman for the evening. When we got to the hotel room, I just sat there staring at her and drinking, trying to work up desire. She practiced some of her fanciest tricks, but I felt nothing. I couldn’t do it. Didn’t want to. Finally I sent her home before she became as disgusted with me as I was with myself.”
He buried his face in the back of her neck. “You redheaded witch, what’d you do to me up there? I was fine, understand? Fine, until you came along with your wet-satin mouth and silky skin. Now my life isn’t worth a damn. All I can think about, see, hear, touch, smell, taste, is you. You.”
He rolled her over and pinned her beneath him. His mouth slanted against hers. He parted her lips with his hard, invasive, possessive tongue. “I’ve got to have you. Got to. Now.”
He ground his body against hers as though to meld them into one. Nudging her knees apart and giving one long, smooth, plunging motion of his hips, he delved into the giving folds of her womanhood.
Groaning with pleasure, he lowered his head to her chest. He called upon every prince of Heaven and hell to release him from his torment. His breath fell hot and labored on her breasts and when the nipples responded, he loved them with his mouth.
