Jane Bonander (15 page)

“Say what you mean, McCloud, don’t mince words because of me. I won’t break,” she chattered on, her voice filled with nervous anticipation. “I’m strong for a woman. I won the woman’s woodchopping event at the fair last year, and—”

“Are you always so talkative in bed?”

She forced herself to snake her arms around him, knowing it was a bold gesture. Her fingers touched his mutilated back and she felt the telltale ache for what he’d gone through, wondering if she’d ever get used to it.

“I have no idea.” She hoped her voice was light. “Now, tell me what you were going to say. My feet are colder than a witch’s what?”

“It’ll sound crude.”

She pressed her nose into his neck, rubbing her lips back and forth on his skin, fighting the urge to bite him—gently, of course. Strange, this desire to eat him. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”

“I’m going to regret that verbal intercourse we exchanged earlier, aren’t I?”

“Oh, go ahead, McCloud. Be crude. I won’t melt.”

“If you say so.” He took a breath, expelling it against her hair. “Your feet are colder than a witch’s tit.”

She felt a shameless, exciting nibble of arousal at the uncouth word. “Hmmm,” she murmured, trying to sound casual. “So men actually call them that.” She tucked the toes of one cold foot between his calves, ignoring his sharp intake of breath.

“Call what what?”

She moved her toes back and forth over his hard, hairy leg. “What you said.”

She felt him smile against her forehead. “I want you to say it, Julia.”

What a silly request! Enticing, though. “Why?”

“Because a little crude talk is exciting foreplay,” he explained, one hand stroking her back.

She was already feeling heat between her legs. “I didn’t think men liked that, McCloud.”

“You mean foreplay?” His hand dipped low over her buttocks, then over her hips and her waist.

She was having trouble breathing. “Yes.”

“Some men do.” His thumbs brushed the side of her breasts.

“And do you?” Lord, was that her voice, so breathy and insipid?

He nuzzled her ear, making a satisfied sound in his throat. “I like foreplay, Julia. Now say the word.”

Her nipples hardened even though he hadn’t touched them. “Which word is that?”

His thumb grazed her nipple as he cupped her breast. “
That
word, Julia. I want you to use it in a sentence.”

She almost lost control; her thoughts became drugged with a hunger she’d never known. “Who would have thought I’d get a lesson in grammar instead of seduction.” Her words came out shaky and unsure.

He tilted her chin up and kissed her, nibbling at her lips, taking his time as his hot breath mingled with hers. “A lesson in lovemaking, Julia. Come on,” he urged, “say it.”

“Who’s being talkative in bed now, McCloud?” She hoped he didn’t hear the uncertainty in her words. “I thought men only wanted to do one thing.” How brave that sounded!

His mouth hovered over hers, his tongue extended. Gathering her courage, she touched it with her own, feeling deep stirrings of desire.

“They do,” he whispered, planting deep, wet kisses on her lips. “It’s just how we get there that’s different. Use the word, Julia.”

She hadn’t imagined this sweet, provocative love play. She wanted to scoff but found it titillating. “Oh, I can’t do—”

“I’ll help you,” he offered, kissing her neck. “Repeat after me. ‘Wolf, please,
please,
kiss my titties.’ ”

Her nervous giggle was caught up in a gasp when he continued to fondle her breasts. “I can’t—”

“Think about my mouth on your nipple, Julia. Think of how it will feel for me to tug on it gently with my teeth,” he added, biting down on her earlobe. “Imagine how it’ll feel when I wet it with my tongue and pull it into my mouth.”

Her nipples were hard as pebbles, and she swore her breasts actually swelled at the sound of his words.

“Mc—”

“Wolf,” he corrected. As he slid the buttons from the buttonholes on her gown, he pushed his bare knee between her legs.

Something low in her belly tightened, and she had the urge to straddle him, like she’d straddled tree trunks as a girl. Giving in to her hunger, she enclosed his knee between her thighs, sucking in a breath at the contact. He continued to touch her breasts. Releasing a long sigh, she knew she could get used to this.

“Come on,” he urged her again, rubbing his thigh against her.

She squirmed under the new wealth of sensations, arching her back. On the verge of begging, she whispered, “Wolf … please,
please,
kiss my … my titties.”

He obliged, cupping one in his hands and making love to it. Everything inside her came alive, swelling, aching, itching for something more. Gripping his hair, she pulled him closer, urging him to devour her breast while she rode his thigh.

She began to shake. There was a need building up inside her, a simmering heat that threatened to send her out of control.

His mouth returned to hers. “Repeat after me, Julia. ‘Take my nightgown off, Wolf.’ ”

Words were no longer necessary. She helped him rid herself of her gown, then flung herself against him, noticing for the first time how hard he was. Her own hunger made her feel hot and swollen, too.

He pressed her onto her back and touched the place of fire between her thighs. She spread for him, making mingled sounds of need and contentment in her throat as he stroked her. All too soon he stopped.

She tossed her head from side to side on the pillow. “McCloud?” Was that mewling sound her voice?

Suddenly she felt his mouth on her stomach, inching lower. His hair caressed her skin while his tongue dipped into her navel.

She shuddered, her breath coming in shaky gasps. “McCloud, what are you doing?”

He moved lower, his hands gently drawing her legs apart. Desire, thick as warm honey, swelled through her as he nudged her with his thumbs, making sultry circular movements on her mound. Every nerve she had was centered there, alive there, screaming to be touched. Her heart raced with shock when she felt his breath there, and she tried to wrench away.

“No! Oh, McCloud, not there,” she wailed, anxious for his touch but fearing it, too.

He gentled her by caressing her thighs, his fingers moving up toward that place again, stroking it, searching for something she didn’t understand. She knew when he found it, for she felt a hot spurt of hunger there, and couldn’t stop the sounds that escaped from her throat.

“Ah, Julia, Julia,” he said, his voice lust-husky. “Just one kiss there. Just one.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself, for somehow she knew what he was going to do.

He kissed her mound, then dragged his tongue over the folds of her flesh. The exquisite sensation caused her to clamp her thighs together, momentarily trapping his head down there. And he continued to make love to her with his tongue.

Suddenly afraid of the sensation that was building up inside her, she grabbed his hair and pushed him away. “No more, McCloud. Please, no more,” she croaked on a shaky breath.

Then she felt his shaft nudging her. Gripping fistfuls of bedding, she lifted herself toward him, gasping in surprise when he entered her. He drove deep, and she released a cry of alarm as a burning pain shattered her desire.

He stopped, spitting out a curse. “Julia?”

She heard the puzzled question in his voice. Wrapping her legs around him to keep him from leaving, she pleaded, “Don’t stop, McCloud. Please, don’t you dare stop.”

Gathering her close, he drove deep. She wanted to get back what she’d lost when he’d broken through her virginity, but it wouldn’t come. His breathing became harsh and his thrusts more insistent, until he stiffened over her. She caressed his back, learning the depth and width of each scar, making them her own, wishing she could have absorbed his pain.

He released her and flopped onto his back. “Christ, Julia. You were a virgin.” His voice was accusatory.

“I never said I wasn’t.” He felt far away even though he was right next to her.

“What about the baby?”

She released a sigh. She didn’t want to talk about Josette, not right after McCloud had made love to her. It might get him to comparing, and she didn’t want to think about that, either. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Can you think of a better time?” He sounded exasperated, and if he was, it was with her.

She snuggled next to him, hoping to distract him. “Any time but now, McCloud.”

He turned, taking her into his arms. “I didn’t satisfy you. I think we should try again.”

With shy fingers she caressed his smooth chest, loving the way his hard muscles bunched beneath her touch. “I don’t mean to sound ignorant, but what else can you do?”

His hand moved over her abdomen, to the cleft below. “First I’ll make you come with my fingers.”

She sucked in a breath and spread her legs, eager for him to touch her, disappointed when he didn’t.

He rolled away from her and lit the lamp by the bed. She squinted into the light as he got out of bed. “Where are you going?”

“Stay there. Don’t go away.” As he crossed to the door, she studied his firm, hard buttocks. A shudder of pleasure tightened her throat. He was right about bottoms. His was perfect. The muscles in each cheek clenched as he walked away, and she realized that he had the same cocky, impudent stride dressed or naked.

Feeling chilled, she brought the covers to her chin while she waited for him to return. She turned to her side and pulled his pillow to her face, inhaling the smell of him on the pillow slip. A knot of apprehension formed in her chest, one that warned her not to get too used to these pleasures.

He returned with the teakettle. As he approached the bed, she gazed at him, swallowing hard when she saw what he looked like down there, where his thick bush of black hair grew. He wasn’t stiff and hard, but slung low and impressive in size. She bit back a self-critical smile. As if she had anything to compare it with.

“What are you going to do with that?” She nodded toward the teakettle.

“You’ll see.” He poured hot water into the porcelain bowl on the dry sink, then added cold until he appeared satisfied with the temperature. After placing the bowl on the bedside table, he dipped a washcloth into it, then sat on the bed and pulled the bedding down. The cold air hit her, and she shivered.

“Spread your legs,” he said, his voice almost a caress.

Suddenly understanding his objective, she tensed. “Oh, no. You aren’t going to do
that.”

He bent over her, his hair caught behind each ear. If ever he looked dangerous and disreputable, it was now. “I want to.” He lowered his head, his lips grazing her stomach.

She nearly catapulted off the bed. “McCloud!” She pushed him away, only to feel his lips lower, below her navel. “McCloud!” Feeling his breath on her mound, she gasped, her breath shaking as the feeling she’d experienced before he’d entered her returned.

Once again he kissed her there, just where her thatch of hair started, and she nearly flew apart. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” She tugged at his hair. “Stop it. Please, stop.”

Raising his head, he gazed at her, his eyes dark. “Are you sure?”

Was she? Lord, no. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore. “It’s … I …” How could she tell him that having his mouth there pushed her out of control? “I’m not ready for it.”

“Then let me wash you, Julia.”

Swallowing hard, she obeyed, allowing him to dab at the folds of her swollen flesh. She felt the stirrings of desire again. Had she not, she would have been uncomfortable and embarrassed at being tended so. But the warm water felt so good, and his touch so intimate.

He removed the cloth and she saw the bloodstains before he rinsed them away in the water. He touched the cloth to her again, dabbing further, dipping deeper. She couldn’t suppress a shudder of pleasure.

“You’re hair down here is the color of sunshine,” he mused, stroking her. “And your skin is pink and ripe beneath it.”

She felt like a wanton, her legs spread akimbo while this man so boldly washed away the remnants of her virginity. Curious, she asked, “Have you had many women, McCloud?”

“Does it matter?” He returned the bowl and the cloth to the dry sink, then came back to the bed.

She had no answer. Not one she wanted to voice, anyway. Still unable to get the picture of McCloud and Josette from her mind, she scolded herself. He would never admit he’d had a liaison with her sister, and at this point, she didn’t want to know.

She felt strange, lying naked in bed with this man. She also found it strangely exciting, but the night air was cold, and she reached for the covers.

He stopped her. “I want to look at you, Julia.”

Something blossomed in her chest. “But I’m cold.”

He bent and kissed her turgid nipples, laving them with his tongue. “I’ll heat you up.”

She didn’t doubt it a bit, she thought, biting down on her bottom lip.

He raised himself onto his elbow again, his eyes dark and filled with heat.

“You’re skin is so pale.” He moved his fingers over skin that was as smooth as satin, as rich as velvet. Never had he seen such perfection. Such purity. “I’ve never seen anyone with hair this color.” He ran one finger over her golden triangle, relishing her sharp intake of breath.

“McCloud, how can I be so hot when I’m so cold?”

Emotion swelled within him. He’d never had a virgin. Never known one, for that matter. He’d never thought he wanted one. Baptiste had warned him that they were trouble. Hell.

He wanted to satisfy Julia. He wanted to bed her again. And again. He just didn’t want to feel any emotion stronger than selfish, animal need.

“Spread your legs, Julia.”

She complied, but asked, “Why can’t we do this under the covers?”

“Because I want to watch you.” He rubbed her cleft, discovering how she was made, finding her tiny bud as hard and intense as his own shaft.

She spread them farther, but he noticed she kept her eyes shut. “That’s my girl, Julia,” he whispered. “You’re getting wet and slippery.” Moistness flooded his fingers. He noted her ecstasy, her flushed cheeks, her mouth, open slightly as she breathed. “I like touching you this way. Do you like it?”