He does not pull back. His rough hand comes up, cupping my cheek tenderly. The kiss deepens, soft at the start, then hungry, sweeping me up tight into his arms, drawing me close, swift as the storm outside. I yield to him without thought.
The lantern flickers, shadows lashing the canvas. The scrape of his stubbled jaw, the sound of my own breath betraying me. God forgive me, but I am only flesh.
When he breaks away, his thumb lingers at my cheek, calloused yet trembling.
“Lamb,” he whispers, as though the name is sacred.
Chapter 14
KODIAK
No woman has ever undone me like this. I’ve lived too long by my own rules. Take what you need. Keep your head down and don’t stop moving. But Alice makes me want things. Fool things.
Her mouth—Christ, her mouth—is softer than any pillow I’ve ever rested my head on. She makes the quietest little sounds, breath hitching like each kiss rattles her. Each one unchains something in me I’ve kept captive for years.
I pull back, and my hand slides to her throat, thumb over that wild pulse. I don’t know why I do it. I’d never hurt her, but I want her to know I could. Maybe it’s instinct. Self-defense for making me feel like a damn sack of nerves, knowing full well she could end me with just a look. I squeeze gently, but she don’t flinch. It’s her trust in me that wrecks me worse than any bullet. Don’t she know I ruin what I touch?
I need her. Now.
Her bodice is a mess under my hands—too many buttons, not enough sense left in my fingers. She don’t stop me. Just watchesme, eyes wide’n pure as a fawn, and hell if that don’t make me burn hotter.
How’s a woman manage to smell so appetizing after a full day in the summer heat, dragged through the open country? Even the salt of her sweat makes me lose myself.
I free her, breasts fair as a lily, nipples pink and tight in the lantern light.God a’mighty.I don’t speak. Don’t even breathe loud. Just look. Like some pilgrim kneeling to worship at an altar. Ain’t never seen a shrine built like her, and damn, if heaven’s finer than these tits, I might find God after all. I lean in and take her into my mouth.
She gasps. The sound shoots straight to the root of me. I grind against her, desperate for friction, my body raw with need. Her legs shift beneath her skirts, opening just enough. An invitation. Damn, her heat. I feel it even through the skirts, radiating up at me. The friction damn near blinds me. Nothing pretty about it, just raw hunger, my cock hard as nails and straining like I’m some kid fumbling in the dark.
We kiss, teeth knocking, messy and wet. My other hand palms her breast, squeezing rough, thumbing her nipple while my hips drive against her like I’m staking a claim. She clings to me, fingertips pressing against my ass, drawing me closer, like she wants every inch of me even through the damned cloth between us.
I can’t stop. Don’t want to. Every roll of my hips, I find a kind of pleasure that don’t feel deserving for a poor scoundrel like me. She’s making sounds, gentle and sweet, each time I press hard over that searing spot. Christ almighty, that spot.
Her mouth’s slick against mine, and I picture how slick and warm she is underneath this skirt. The thoughts multiply, spinning like I’m being goddamn hypnotized. Her insides must be even more inviting than her mouth. Pious little thing like her’s probably tight as a hangman’s knot. I lose my breaththinking on it, thinking how I’d sink into her, stretch her, fuck her full, bury my seed dee?—
Oh no. No no no no.
But that’s it—that’s the end of me. My body’s moving by itself, jerking like a dog breeding. It hits sudden, violent. Heat tearing through me before I can hold it back. I curse into her mouth as I spill in my pants, harder than I have since boyhood. Shame and hunger twist together, near choking me.
I break the kiss, forehead pressed to hers, breath ragged. My fist knots tight in her skirts, like if I let go, I’ll float away. “Alice,” I rasp. “Christ. You made me spend like a damn boy.”
Her lips part like she’s about to speak, but nothing comes out. She’s flushed deep, chest rising fast, nipples wet from my mouth. For a heartbeat she just stares, like she don’t know what to do with what we’ve done. Then her hands slip from my hair, from my shoulders. She draws back just a little, breath ragged, and she’s trembling same as me, the need clinging to her.
“God,” she whispers, shifting back. Sitting up, she straights her bodice, fumbling with the fabric, covering herself. “Oh God,” she says again.
Her tears come fast, sliding down her cheeks. She curls in on herself like I broke her, shoulders hunching, palms pressed hard to her face. I hear her whispering to the Lord like she needs saving from me.
Blood pumps hot through my veins like molten steel through a forge. The sound of her crying scrapes raw at me. How can she sit there carrying on like I stole something against her will?
“Hell no,” I snap, harsher than I mean. My chest heaves, mouth flying off hotter than the barrel of a spent pistol. “Don’t look at me like I took what wasn’t offered.”
She flinches, then lifts her face. Tear-streaked, lips trembling. For a moment she just stares, and the storm outside fills the silence between us.
“I-I let you. That’s what shames me.” Her voice cracks, but she pushes on, desperate. “I wanted it, and I ought not to have. Don’t you see? I have sinned, not you. I gave myself over to desire.”
“So what? That’s what people do. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with how you feel. I want you like I ain’t wanted a thing. Say what you want, but you’re mine.”
“I am nothing of the sort, Mr. Randolph.”
“Oh bullshit,” I snarl. “Now you’re startin’ to piss me off.”
