She was a grown woman, and when she’d pressed herself against his body, he’d felt every soft curve, hollow, line, and... those little hard nipples that had made him want to lower her bodice and lick. But he’d managed to find some semblance of self-preservation somewhere because he knew if her father ever found out, he’d put Rawley six feet under. But he couldn’t help but believe that one of the nipples against his tongue would have been worth the journey.
He ached with a need to possess her that had him fairly trembling and terrified as hell that he wouldn’t find the strength to never touch her again.
And he was going to have to touch her again to get her up into the saddle because the liquor had made her too unsteady to get herself up there. He didn’t know how she’d managed it the first time. Then he’d have to escort her home. He halfway wanted her to say something. Instead she just stood there swaying slightly and watching him. He couldn’t leave her out here, couldn’t think of a way to tactfully get them both out of this mess.
“Rawley?” she whimpered, her voice sounding small, like that of a newborn kitten.
“What?”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” She dropped to her knees and heaved.
He was at her side, rubbing her back, before the second round hit her. Then the absurdity of the situation struck him, and he couldn’t help it. He laughed, boisterously, with an edge of relief and embarrassment. When she glared at him, he laughed again.
As she straightened, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her lush, perfect, beautiful mouth. “My kiss wasn’t that bad, was it, Faith?”
She gave him a halfhearted smile. “No, but I feel awful.”
“You’re gonna feel a lot worse in the morning. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
“I don’t think I can ride.”
Apparently she’d developed a gift for understatement. Even if he sat behind her and kept her in the saddle, it would be a long, torturous journey for them both—her because of the illness she was experiencing and him because she’d be in his arms.
“You can sleep here.”
He helped her to her feet. She’d taken two steps before she started to stumble. He swept her into his arms. With a little sigh, she nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder.
“I always thought I was too tall to be carried,” she said pensively.
“It’s all in the leverage.”
“You’re just strong. I’ve seen you bring a steer to its knees. Seen you do a lot of stuff.”
“That’s because you’ve been around for so long now. Nineteen is a lot of years.”
He carried her into the cabin, into his bedroom, and laid her down on the bed. Her eyes were closed, and he figured she’d already fallen asleep. He started removing her shoes.
“Do you ever want more than this?” she asked wistfully.
Of course he wanted more. Like the ground thirsted for rain, and bees craved nectar. He longed to kiss her again until they were both breathless. He yearned to lay his body over hers and cause it to snap with relief when the tension was too tight, her cries of release echoing around him. “Go to sleep.”
“You kiss good,” she mumbled. “Better ‘n Cole.”
He grimaced. While her slurred words should have had him puffing out his chest with pride, he couldn’t get past the fact that the kiss never should have happened—and she wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t had too much to drink. “About that. It shouldn’t have happened, Faith.”
“I know. ’Cuz of that lady you love. Tell me who she is, and I’ll let her know you’re a good kisser.”
He set the shoes aside. “That’s probably not a very good courting strategy.”
“Are you courting her?”
“No.”
“You should.” She followed that comment with a little snore.
No, he shouldn’t. He was too old for her. Too broken. And if he hadn’t stopped that kiss when he had, he would have carried her in here and shown her exactly why he wasn’t good enough for her. He wanted her with a need that scared the hell out of him.
Reaching across her, he grabbed the quilt and folded it over her. Then he stood there for the longest time just watching her sleep.
