“You okay?” he asked, brushing pale damp strands from her cheeks.
She nodded but didn’t let go. Instead, she drew a little away, looked up at him and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.
For an instant, Sam went still. God help him, so far he had managed to stay away from her, but with her body so warm and feminine against his, nothing could hold him back now. His mouth claimed hers, and the soft kiss deepened into something more, somethinghot and fierce.
Libby made a sound in her throat, urging him to take the hot kiss even deeper. Tangling his hands in her hair to hold her in place, Sam ravaged her mouth, taking everything she offered, giving her what she wanted in return.
“Libby,” he whispered, forcing himself to slow down. “If we don’t stop, I’m going to want more. In the morning you’ll regret it.”
“I need you, Sam,” she said, kissing him until he groaned. Her waist was tiny before it flared into a pair of womanly hips. Her breasts felt soft and full against his bare chest.
He eased down the bodice of her nightgown and found that each perfect breast exactly filled his palms. Her skin was smooth as silk, the small tips as hard as berries. He yearned to take them into his mouth and tastethe sweetness.
God, he wanted her. Ached to bury himself inside her.
He kissed the corners of her mouth, her nose, her eyes, tasted the wetness of her tears, and felt a sharp pang in his chest that finally pierced his conscience. His heart was hammering, the arousal beneath his flyhard as stone.
Sam released a shaky breath. “Libby...honey. I can’t do this.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glazedwith passion.
“Your uncle was my friend. I can’t betray his trust.”
She just stared. “I know you want me,” she said. “Men always want me.”
His chest tightened. “I want you. I won’t lie about it. But this isn’t what Marty had inmind for you.”
She stiffened, pulled up her nightgown, slid off his lap, and turned to face him. “I don’t care what my uncle had in mind. He’s gone. He’s dead, just like everyone else. I’m my own person now. Uncle Marty doesn’t control mylife anymore.”
“Libby...”
“Get out, Sam. Go away and leave me alone.”
He didn’t want to go. He wanted to hold her again, pick up where they’d left off. He rose from the bed and started for the door.
“I probably would have disappointed you anyway,” she said softly from behind him. “I’m not very good at sex.”
Sam turned and walked back to her. Leaning down, he cupped her face in his hands. “You don’t have to be good at it, Libby. You just have to be with the right man.” He kissed her softly one last time. Sam warned himself not to say the words but couldn’t seem to stop himself. “This isn’t over. We’ll have time to figure things out.”
Turning away before he could change his mind and show her exactly how good sex between them could be, Sam opened the door and walked outof the bedroom.
Chapter Eight
As soon as breakfast was over, Libby ran upstairs to change into her riding clothes, pulling on the jeans she had bought at the mercantile, which were snug but comfortable, the boots Fran had assured her wouldn’t hurt her feet even the first time she wore them, and a pale yellow Western shirt with pink roses embroidered on the yoke in back.
The final touch was the straw cowboy hat Fran had insisted she needed as protection against the sun. She grinned as she looked in the mirror.Not bad,she thought,fora city cowgirl.
She grabbed the small overnight bag of necessities she had packed from the list Sam had given each guest and headed out of the house.
The horses were saddled and waiting, along with three mules to carry the supplies. Sam had explained that he would ride in front while Big John rode at the back of the group, leading the pack string. She spotted him talking to his foreman, Julio Santiago, who was staying behind with the rest of the hands to handle the cattle and any ranch problems thatmight come up.
So far Libby had managed not to think about what happened with Sam in her bedroom last night. It was just a moment of weakness because of the kitten, she told herself. It didn’t mean anything. But dammit, why did the man have to look so incredibly hot this morning?
Just the way he carried himself turned her on, his shoulders so straight, his strides so relaxed and confident. In his dusty straw cowboy hat, khaki T-shirt, snug jeans, and worn boots, he looked as if he’d just stepped out of a city girl’s Western fantasy.
Libby hated him for making her want himall over again.
His eyes raked her from head to foot as he walked up, taking in her hat and boots. The look in those intense dark eyes said she wasn’t the only one who remembered last night.
