Kit held her silently.
“You’re not a lying bastard,” she told his chest.
“That’s good to know,” Kit said, his voice tinged with a smile. His hands roved over her back. He tilted her face up toward his. “I’ll never lie to you, Hallie. I promise you that. I might make mistakes and make you angry, but I’ll never, ever lie to you.”
Hallie stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, softly and sweetly. “Thank you...” she murmured against his damp lips...”Thank you.”
“Happy birthday, sweet,” he whispered back. He pulled her to him and kissed her, softly and then deeply. His hand stroked her back, then he pulled her tightly to his chest and held her with such longing that Hallie felt as if she had finally, for a fleeting instant, touched his heart.
A loud catcall pierced the air, and they broke apart, turning toward the shout. In plain sight, on the street below, stood a crowd of miners, jeering and whistling at the lovers.
Kit pulled her away from the railing. “Let’s go below.”
They went back to the cabin, and Hallie took the time to look at the room. It had been refurbished. The large bunk was covered with a deep green comforter that was so fat, she knew it must be filled with down. Jewel-toned pillows were scattered on the wall side of the bed, and a rug of the same colors covered the dark wood floor. A large screen blocked off the area where her father’s desk sat.
Kit strolled over and moved the screen. The desk was no longer there. Instead, a low table and two high-backed chairs sat in its place. The table was set for two.
“What’s this?” Hallie asked.
“Your birthday supper, or at least it will be in a moment.” Kit reached over and rang a brass ship’s bell. The loud clanging startled them both. “I think they might want to change that,” he said, laughing.
Within minutes there was a knock at the cabin door and two men entered with steaming trays of food. The men left, but the rich smell of beef filled the room, making Hallie’s mouth water. She hadn’t eaten much of anything the past few days, mostly because she’d been so angry with Kit. He popped the cork on a champagne bottle and refilled their glasses, then set them on the table and seated Hallie.
An hour later Hallie had cleaned her plate, his plate, and was just finishing the last bit of food in the serving dishes, when she became aware of Kit’s smile.
“Hungry?”
“Um-hm,” she mumbled with her mouth full. She swallowed. “I was starved.”
He laughed. “So I noticed.”
“I haven’t eaten in two days,” she admitted, smiling.
His smile faded, the mirth in his eyes replaced by another look, a hotter look. “I’m starved too...” His meaning was clear. His fingers trailed along her arm while he spoke. “It’s been two long, cold nights, sweet.” His deep voice rumbled through her as his words set her on fire. “Come.” He took her hand and drew her over until she sat in his lap. His lips feathered over hers.
His mouth, hot and open, met hers, and their tongues parried. His tongue stroked hers with a deep kiss that drove her mad, and his hands worked free the fasteners on her clothing, shoving the clothes down to her waist. His palms lifted her heavy breasts while his tongue meandered from her mouth, down her neck, and then traced one hard tip and then the other.
She wrenched the studs from his shirt and rubbed her fingers through the thick, coarse, black hair that covered his chest. Her fingers grazed his nipples, and his mouth pulled hard on her breast, making her cry out from the heat that shot to her core. The harder he sucked, the more she melted.
Her hands wandered to the buttons on his pants, slipping the first couple through the holes. He wore no smallclothes, for the thick hair of his groin prickled her fingers. She lifted her weight, trying to open more buttons.
“Stand up, sweet, please,” he whispered.
She stood on shaking legs, and he wrapped his arms around her skirts and bunched them up, at the same time lifting her to straddle him. The back of her skirts fell over them, but the fabric in front was wadded against their stomachs. He reached up underneath her skirts and grabbed the outside of her thighs, pulling her up against the hard, male part of him. He pressed upward and his hands rocked her thighs so she rode against him. Through the split in her drawers Hallie could feel the cold buttons of his trousers.
“Please,” she begged, struggling to get at his buttons.
He pushed aside her hand and freed himself. Grabbing her ribs, he lifted her and slowly slid her onto him. She cried out from the depth, and he stilled.
His hands cupped her head, tilting it only inches from his warm mouth. “Am I hurting you?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered. “Oh God, no—”
His mouth stole the words from her lips. His hand pulled the pins from her hair, and he wrapped the pale silk hair around them, groaning as the hair brushed over him. His hips remained still, but he was embedded so thoroughly, so deeply rooted, that she could feel his pulse beat through his member. He pushed up once, and she throbbed with release.
She sagged against his shoulder, and he pulled her forward, rubbing her against the base of him and sending her higher and higher. Again she peaked, crying out with each contraction.
Sweat dripped from him onto her breasts. He moved his chest sideways so the coarse hair tickled her nipples. He kissed her ears over and over, whispering how it felt inside her, what her cries did to him. Finally he lifted her, up and down, sliding her along his hard length, and when she tightened into her third release, he burst into his own.
