Lone Star Bride

“Thank you, sir. At least I think that was a compliment.”

“Bend a little closer and I guarantee you’ll know it was,” he told her, reaching to encircle her waist with his hands, tugging her forward so that she lost her balance and fell against him. He caught her deftly, held her firmly and touched her mouth with his. As kisses went, it wasn’t the best he’d ever aimed at a woman, but the power of their lips meeting in such a fashion shot through him.

“Jamie, you’re supposed to be taking care of my leg, not kissing me,” she said quietly, her breath sweet against his lips.

“I’d rather kiss you,” he told her, rising and drawing her up from the chair. “Your leg feel better now?” he asked.

“Much,” she told him. “Let me get my boot back on, will you?”

“I’ll put it on for you. In just a minute.”

She watched him, her cheeks rosy, her eyes glowing as she waited. Her mouth was pink and lush, luring him with its softness, promising pleasure should he accept the silent offering before him.

“You’re a beauty, Miss Alexis. A man could get lost in your eyes, and lose his head over your lips. You feel like heaven in my arms,” he murmured, wondering at his own fluent compliments. And then he bent to touch her ear with the tip of his tongue, and used his greater strength to ease her against himself, fitting her securely there, even as he acknowledged the thrust of his male member seeking shelter in the notch of her thighs.

“I think this is getting out of hand,” she said, her palms firm against his chest. “I won’t be treated like a mare in a stall, Jamie.”

“And I won’t do that to you,” he answered. “When I make love to you, it won’t be in the tack room where anybody could come wandering by. I’ll find a private place where we can be alone, where no one will disturb us.”

“When you make love to me?” she asked tartly. “What makes you think it’s a foregone conclusion?”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, smiling at her, knowing his grin was arrogant. His mouth was twisted wryly and she was getting angrier by the second.

“I don’t think so.”

Her answer was what he had expected, and he wasn’t long disappointed.

“I have no intention of performing any intimacies with you, Mr. Webster. I can’t afford to give away what my husband will claim as his own on the day I marry.”

“I’d say that all depends on who your husband turns out to be,” he told her, his arms tightening around her, one hand lifting her chin, the better to position her for his kiss. No matter that she silently protested, turning her head away, pushing at him with futile strength.

He was by far the more powerful, his need was great and his aim was true. His mouth took hers with sure, certain touches, his lips forming to hers, the movement of his tongue urging her to open to him. If he was arrogant, so be it, he thought, sensing her ambivalence as she initially fought his arms and finally surrendered to his strength.