She wanted this as much as he did.
Clinging to Cutter breathlessly, she arched for him as he sank his fingers into her hair, tilting her head backward to give him better access.
“Cutter,” she sighed.
He heard her confusion in the single word, and an unwelcome thought emerged from the dark recesses of Cutter’s mind, creeping obstinately into his consciousness. Stubbornly ignoring it, he deepened the kiss, only to find that it wouldn’t go away.
He had the nagging suspicion that if he bedded her now, it would be over. That it would end here and now. Innocent as Elizabeth evidently was, she wasn’t aware of where this was leading, he was damned sure. Otherwise, the little prudish miss would be clawing his eyes out just now, rather than urging him on with her delightful little body. As angry as she’d been with him, she’d never have submitted so easily. Her prickly pride wouldn’t allow it.
Truth was, he could go on... and he doubted she’d put up any resistance a’tall... but tomorrow, or maybe even seconds afterward, she’d be conscience-stricken over what they’d shared and she’d hightail it home quicker’n a hunted jackrabbit. That wasn’t what he was after.
But damn, would it feel good!
And—it—still—wouldn’t get him what he wanted.
Damn it.
Casting a glance over her shoulder, he eyed the small bed pensively, picturing Elizabeth there, lying beneath him in all her glory, her long, silky hair wrapped around his bare thighs. Jesus, he wanted that. Scrutinizing the piece of furniture intently, he forced himself away from her lips, kissing one corner of her mouth regretfully, before he tilted her head to one side in order to better view his coveted destination.
Instinctively, even against his will, his sensual lips were drawn to her exposed neck, like a predator to its prey. Forgetting himself, he nuzzled her hungrily as his fingers twisted in her hair. His teeth grazed her flesh ever so lightly, nibbling, his tongue flicking out to taste her. Finding the fragile pulse that ticked just beneath the pale surface, he groaned at the feel of it. As he feasted, his gaze again returned to the waiting bed, calculating.
So close.
So damned close.
And yet it was by far the longest four feet he’d ever considered crossing. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to wrench his mouth away from her warm skin. His breathing labored, Cutter again laid his head back upon the door. His hands slipped obediently to her shoulders.
In a state of torment, he watched as Elizabeth’s lucidity slowly returned. All the while, he held her away from himself.
For the longest moment, she stood as though in a stupor, her head titled seductively, her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breath. Her luscious lips were parted faintly, pursed in anticipation—swollen from his kisses, he noted with deep satisfaction. God, her expression was paradise itself, he thought in that moment, and it took all of his resolve to keep from letting her fall against him and bending slowly forward to reclaim her lips.
He’d fully expected her to turn down his offer. It had surprised him near out of his britches when she’d boldly claimed him as her husband in the hall. But he could still taste the sweet surge of triumph he’d experienced at her declaration... and was hungry for more of it. Even as furious as he had been with her, he wanted her... and he wanted her willing. Recoiling from the notion of her running from him, he cleared his throat.
The spell broken, she opened her eyes.
“You won’ be disappointed… for taking me up on my offer, Elizabeth.”
Chapter Seven
Blinking twice, Elizabeth struggled to brush the cobwebs from her brain.
“Offer? Oh, oh, yes... that offer!” she declared. Straightening abruptly, she shrugged out of Cutter’s embrace, her face flaming. Once again, she wondered what was wrong with her that she would turn to mush with just a single touch from him. Good night, she was as shameless as Bess! Shivering at the strange look in his eyes, she stepped away from him, retreating into the protective shadows. “That is, I—I intended to,” she said peevishly in order to cover her mortification. Her traitorous heart continued to pound frantically. “Until you brought that... that... woman—”
Cutter allowed her withdrawal, never stirring. Leaning more fully upon the door, he casually shoved a fist into his front pocket. “Just for the record, Doc. I didn’t bring any woman anywhere.” His tone was smooth and calm, nothing like the storm simmering in his eyes. “The old girl followed me home from the Rushing Bull.”
Annoyance creased Elizabeth’s brow. “She didn’t seem all that old to me!” she returned petulantly. “In any case, I’ve thought on it—all day, in fact—and you’re right. I can’t trust anyone else to take me to St. Louis.” Her tone was resigned. “You win, Mr. McKenzie.”
One brow rose. “I win?” he asked softly. He straightened, drawing his hand out of his pocket, and Elizabeth took another cautious step backward.
“Stay there!” she said anxiously. “And... and turn around, while you’re at it.” She made a little circular motion with her hand when he only looked at her. “Please.”
Sighing, Cutter threw his hands up into the air and turned toward the door, shaking his head. The moment he turned away, he heard her bare feet pattering softly across the wood floor. She lifted the bedcovers. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Elizabeth froze. “Do what?”
“Hide in the bed,” he said, his tone curt. “It wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“That—is—not—what I was about to do, Mr. McKenzie!” Wrapping the coverlet about herself like a protective cape, Elizabeth moved away from the bed, indignant that Cutter would assume she would give such a blatant invitation—and wounded somehow that he had taken such exception to the notion. “I’m not Bess,” she exclaimed. “You can turn around now.”
