Angel in My Arms (26 page)

Fox moaned with encouragement. "Yes," he whispered as she
tentatively slipped her hand beneath the waistband. "Touch me, Celeste.
It's all I think about. Touch me…"

Fox pushed Celeste's gown down over her shoulders and tugged the
camisole over her head. She broke from a deep kiss to step out of the
dress, her red petticoat, and crinoline. She stood in the bright
sunshine of the morning in nothing but shoes, embroidered stockings,
pantaloons, and her corset. Strong summer light poured through the open
panes, and dust motes fluttered in the warm rays.

Celeste had never entirely undressed for her customers. She
preferred the lamp out as well. But with Fox, she wanted to share
herself, all of herself. She instinctively knew that she would never
care for another man as she cared for him. This was her one chance at
happiness, no matter how brief it might be.

Celeste kicked off her shoes as she unhooked the horn buttons of his
shirt. She caressed the hard, muscular flesh of his chest, teasing the
crisp mat of dark hair. Playfully, she tugged at one of his nipples
with her teeth and laved it with her tongue. She found his moan of
pleasure—and the idea that she could bring him the same physical
responses that he brought her— delightful.

"Celeste," he murmured in her ear.

"Fox." She stroked his cheek with her palm as she studied his
suntanned face. His eyes were half-closed, his voice thick with desire
for her.

She kissed an invisible path down the center of his chest, lowering
herself to her knees on the cotton rag rug she'd sewn from old
clothing. He pulled the tortoise hairpins from her hair, and it fell in
a thick wave of red over her shoulders and down her back. It felt so
good to feel his fingers entwined in her hair.

"You have the most beautiful hair, Celeste." He pushed the heavy
locks over her shoulders so that he could see her face. "Like an
angel's."

"I thought angels have blond hair," she whispered, basking in his poetic compliment.

"Not the angels in my head. They're all redheads with green eyes."

They kissed again, a long passionate kiss that whispered of sorrow and forgiveness.

Celeste could have sat all morning in the sunlight and kissed and
been kissed, but there was a heat inside her that was building, fanning
out. She wanted more than to be cuddled. She needed Fox in a way she
was just beginning to understand that women needed men.

Boldly, Celeste tugged his denims down over his hips, and he sprang magically from the worn fabric, thick and pulsing.

Hesitantly she took his shaft in her hand, surprised by how warm and soft the skin was. He moaned aloud.

She stroked him, taking her time to study the male part of him in
the bright sunlight. All those other men in her past seemed meaningless
now. Suddenly she was in a world all bright and new and fascinating.
She tested the length of him for sensitivity, first with the pad of her
thumb, then with the tip of her tongue.

Celeste felt Fox sway and press his hands on her shoulders to steady
himself. A sound came from his lips, half groan, half moan. He breathed
heavily, panting indistinguishable words of encouragement.

She looked up at him. "Is this all right?" she whispered, half-teasing, half-unsure of herself. "Do you like it?"

"Oh, Celeste," he said thickly, his eyes closed. "More. Don't stop now."

She lowered her head, roused by his words. With a mixture of
surprising inexperience and age-old instinct, she stroked him with her
hands and with her tongue, taking her time to discover what he found
most pleasurable.

Finally her attention brought him to his knees, so that he knelt
facing her, his pants tangled around his ankles. "You want me to stop?"
she whispered against his lips.

He opened his dark-pooled eyes to look into hers. "I want to make
love to you, Celeste." He pulled her close to him and released the
laces of her corset. "Now," he insisted urgently. "Right now."

As she unbuckled and slipped out of her corset, his hands found her
swollen breasts, and it was her turn to sigh with pleasure. Ripples of
white hot desire coursed through her. Touching him the way she had, had
not only excited him, but her as well. She was damp and throbbing with
longing for him.

Fox kissed her deeply and Celeste thought to suggest they move onto
the bed, but the idea was gone in an instant as his lips found the
puckered tips of her nipples and sent intense pulses through her torso.

Fox pressed Celeste back onto the soft, twisted rag rug, and she
lifted her hips to allow him to remove her pantaloons and shoes and
stockings. She laid back on the rug unashamed of her nakedness and
watched as he shed his own clothes. She reached out to him and spread
her legs, wanting him, needing to feel him deep inside before she burst.

Fox lowered his body over hers and slipped inside her. She rose in
sweet anguish to meet his first thrust and closed her eyes that filled
with tears of joy. Fox caught her hands with his and pushed them back
onto the rug beside her head, their fingers laced. He thrust urgently
and she rose to match his rhythm, almost frenzied in her need for
fulfillment.

"Celeste, Celeste," he whispered in her ear as he panted and pressed fervent kisses to her perspiration-dampened cheek.

Celeste was so filled with the excitement of Fox's touch and the
feeling of his caring, if not love, that she thought she would burst
with happiness. And yet still she was not satisfied. The heat of desire
was still inside her, building, scorching, demanding release until she
thought she couldn't stand another sweet, tortured stroke. And then,
her muscles contracted and shards of shiny white ecstasy fanned from
the center of her being, outward. Shivering, shuddering, she clung to
Fox and rode the waves of fulfillment. Fox gave a final thrust and
groaned as he spilled his seed into her.

Celeste held Fox in her arms and stroked his bare back. After a
moment he rolled beside her. Both stared at the white punched-tin
ceiling for a moment. Then she giggled.

"What?" he said, his voice still warm and husky.

Her giggle burst into laughter.

"What?" he insisted. He rolled onto his side so that he could see
into her eyes. He rested one broad palm on the flat of her belly.
"What's so funny?"

"Me," she giggled. "You. The two of us, rolling on the floor." She laughed until tears came to her eyes.

Fox glanced at the doorway where Silver sat, his head cocked. "Makes you wonder what the dog is thinking, doesn't it?"

She laughed again as she rolled onto her side to face him.

Fox rested his head on his arm and stared into her eyes.

"Celeste?" he said when their laughter subsided. "Can… can I ask you a question? And you have to promise you won't get angry."

She had an idea what the question would be. She tucked a lock of his
damp, dark hair behind his ear. "Only if I can ask you one."

"All right." He stroked her bare arm. "You go first." She shook her
head. "Oh, no. You started it. You go first." He took a deep breath,
but didn't break eye contact. "This… here… now… when we make love…"
"Yes?" He brushed his knuckles against her chin in a gentle caress.

"Is it… different? Different than with my father, with all the others that came before me?"

Celeste rested her head on the rug and stared at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. Never mind. It… it was childish."

She turned to gaze into his eyes. "No. It's never been like this for
me before. Not with anyone," she said firmly. "And certainly not with
your father." Her hand itched to touch him, but she kept it at her
side, feeling very fragile. She understood now how truly difficult it
had been for Fox to tell her about the loss of his fortune, because
suddenly she felt the same way. Her stomach tightened in a knot. "All
those men, they never meant anything." She brushed her left breast with
her fingertips. She knew she was taking a chance by saying this, by
revealing what she felt, what she was afraid of feeling. "Because I
never cared for them here," she whispered. "I never cared about them at
all. It was money. A job. Survival. Nothing more."

He was silent for what seemed to her like an eternity.

"Do you believe me?" she asked.

He lowered his chin in a half nod. "Yes."

She smiled and slipped her hand into his. "No one has ever cared how
I felt before. What pleased me. Not even your father. You have to
believe that. He was a customer and then a friend, but never really a
lover."

Fox brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Thank you for telling me what I needed to hear."

"I'm glad it's what you wanted to hear, but that's not why I said it."

"I know." He kissed her hand again: "All right. Now your question."

She studied the ceiling. "Did you love Amber?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

She couldn't resist a twinge of jealousy. She wanted to know the
truth and he'd told her. She had no right to be upset, but the idea
that he had once loved a woman hurt deeply. She wished she could have
been that woman.

"I loved her in the same superficial way I think she loved me." He
held her hand in his, but didn't look at her. They both studied the
ceiling intently. "We enjoyed each other's company. I liked her beauty.
She liked my money."

"Apparently she liked it very well, if she was in on her brother's plans to steal from you and leave you with all those debts."

He rubbed his face with his free hand. "I was an idiot, looking for the wrong kind of person to care about me."

She felt a tightening in her chest."The wrong kind of person? What do you mean?"

He faced her, still on his back. "I met Amber in a saloon in San
Francisco. She was a dancer and a whore." He grimaced. "Ah, I didn't
say that right. I shouldn't have—"

Celeste closed her eyes and groaned. "No wonder you're gun-shy. She
took you for everything you had." She hesitated for a moment. "But
we're not all alike you know. You can't take a dozen whores, throw us
in a bag, and not know the difference between us. We're just like
everyone else. Some good, some bad, some a little of each."

He didn't say anything.

Celeste knew she couldn't change his opinion overnight when the
woman had used him so badly. A part of her hated that woman, hated what
she had done to Fox, hated the way she had altered all their lives, "I
would never cheat you out of any of the money that will come from the
silver mine," she said softly, fiercely.

He kissed her shoulder and gently disengaged himself from her.
"Climb into bed and I'll bring you some tea and bread with jam. I'm
starved. We'll have a picnic."

So he didn't trust her. Not quite, though he was gentleman enough not to come out and say so.

"Bed?" Suddenly Celeste felt shy, naked in front of him, but
resisted the urge to cover herself. "It's mid-morning. We need to get
to the mine. Titus can't run the entire operation on his own."