What he wouldn’t give just now to undo that thick braid of hers, run his fingers through her silky hair. But he didn’t want her to know he was awake, so instead, he played a waiting game, a game Elizabeth was fated to lose.
Ruthless as he was, Cutter never loosened his hold upon her. Not even a smidgen. After she waited a long while for him to ease up on his grip, Elizabeth’s body began to slacken in his arms.
The instant it did, he began to nibble her neck drowsily, moving his hand to her middle, stroking her belly seductively.
So what was she supposed to do now? Elizabeth knew she should protest, but for the life of her, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Merciful heaven... what was he doing to her? With every slow stroke of his hands, her body seemed to stir a little more.
His warm lips found their way into her hair, nibbling, burning her flesh. Unable to bear it, Elizabeth arched, giving him better access.
Cutter groaned at her response. As his mouth leisurely devoured her flesh, his hands moved to her shoulder and then to her back, tugging down her dress.
Elizabeth didn’t realize she was undone until she felt the crisp air flow down her spine. Cutter’s warm lips followed, along with the sleek gliding of his tongue, making her shiver. Her breathing quickened and she stiffened. Was he awake then? Suspicion niggled her. No man could be so seductive in his sleep! Or could he?
She hoped he was still asleep, and didn’t pause to wonder why. She told herself that it was because she didn’t want him to know she’d allowed him so much liberty. But she knew even as she thought it that it wasn’t true. She didn’t want this to end, didn’t think she could bear it if it did. Still, she shouldn’t just...
“Mmmm, Bess,” he whispered again.
Bess. Elizabeth closed her eyes, shutting out the name, and along with it, her pain at hearing it spoken again from his lips.
Despite the fact that Cutter’s denims grew so tight as to be painful, it was worth it, he thought with grim satisfaction. He was only thankful that his britches were snug enough to hide his arousal from her. He hadn’t mistaken the look in Elizabeth’s eyes when she’d discovered that part of his anatomy the day he’d fallen atop her. She might be an innocent miss, but she knew what it was that went on between men and women, and likely would have leapt out of her skin if she felt it burrowing against her sweet little butt just now.
He smiled faintly against her soft back. What a strange brew she was: naive, yet obviously not totally ignorant. His lips curved into a smile. As far as he was concerned, she had just the right degree of innocence and carnal knowledge in those brassy eyes of hers, making him want to be the first man to bury himself in that delicious body of hers—in spite of the fact that he wasn’t comfortable with prudish misses.
But she wasn’t that at all, he reflected, despite the front she liked to put up.
Elizabeth moaned low in her throat as Cutter’s hands slipped from her back, beneath her open blouse. She gasped as his fingers reached around to touch and cup her breast. With slow, sleepy movements, he caressed her, seducing every thought of protest from her mind. Heaven help her, but she arched for him, daring to ease herself into his palm.
So warm.
So very warm.
He squeezed her gently, and her bottom undulated into his pelvis. There it froze, feeling the hardness there. Her heart burst into her throat. She felt a bittersweet pleasure at the feel of him, even knowing it wasn’t for her. He began to move against her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing, willing her traitorous body to deny itself. But it was in vain. An ache began to build deep within, coiling inside her so tightly that she thought she would die of the pleasure.
The woman was as warm-blooded as they came, Cutter thought with satisfaction as Elizabeth moved unconsciously with him. Thing was, she just didn’t know it yet. All she needed was a little shove in that direction. Shuddering with anticipation, he savored the ache in his pants, and thought of all the ways he’d make her pay when the time came. He was just arrogant enough to know that if he pursued it, he could get exactly what he craved tonight... but he didn’t want any regrets in the morning. He wanted her to come to him on her own. He wanted her so ready, she wouldn’t be able to deny him if she wanted to. No, he’d just give her something to think about until next time.
Something to crave.
His hand slipped out of her blouse, and drifted across her hips, down to the apex of her thighs. Stroking her over her skirt, he pressed a little deeper each time between her clenched thighs.
Moaning softly, Elizabeth pressed her thighs together more protectively. She whimpered, trying not to be heard. But it was too late; when Cutter pressed his fingers between her thighs one last time, and lifted up, she shuddered violently.
He told himself that he was satisfied. That he’d gotten what he was after. That for the moment, he was content just to hold her... breathe her into his soul. But it wasn’t true. Feeling her body’s tiny convulsions, her culmination in pleasure, it was all he could do not to let himself go. It was too damned much to bear. One last roll of his hips against her pert little fanny would give him his own release. He didn’t move. And it was the most difficult thing he ever didn’t do.
God, he hurt.
She suddenly stiffened in his arms, but Cutter held her tightly, knowing that she was likely as embarrassed as she was confused over what had just happened to her. She was probably waiting for him to release her so she could scurry away. But he wasn’t willing to let her go. Somehow, though he didn’t understand it, she was beginning to weave herself inextricably into his being. Without trying, she’d managed to wrap her tiny fingers firmly around his rock-solid heart.
Still, he didn’t move. He knew she had to suspect he was awake. But he also knew that she was hoping he wasn’t, and it was easier to let her keep believing he still slept.
It was a long while later before Elizabeth finally relaxed. When her breathing finally grew smooth and even, he knew instinctively that she had fallen asleep. And only then did he allow himself to drift.
* * *
Strangely enough,it was the hush of the morning rather than the glaring sunlight falling across Elizabeth’s face that drew her from her dreams first. She stretched lazily, and then froze. Her eyes flew open to find herself facing what had only recently been the campfire. The pit was filled now, and tamped firmly down, the stones disbursed, turned blackened side under so that, to the undiscerning glance, it was impossible to tell that they had once been a part of a blazing fire.
The next thing Elizabeth became aware of was that everything was already packed, including Cutter’s bedroll.
Cutter’s bedroll.
