He shuddered unexpectedly, memories bursting inside him, sensuality lancing through his body, tightening him, making him feel every bit of the hot perfection of being locked inside her.
The knowledge of his own helpless response to Janna shocked Ty. He shouldn’t feel this way. The sweat wasn’t dry on his body from the first time he had taken her. He shouldn’t want her again the way he did right now—need knotting his guts, his body hard and heavy and hot, filled to bursting once more.
He fought to remain still, not to respond, not to move, but the knowledge of the ecstatic consummation he would find within her body was too new, too overwhelming for him to deny or control. With a low, raw cry, he fought against the lure of her, but even as he cried out he was moving slowly, surrendering himself to her one hard inch at a time.
Her breath caught as he deliberately measured himself within her once, then twice, then three times. She didn’t understand his rejection of her apology or his anger with her, but she understood the need that was making him tremble. It was her own need, doubling and redoubling with each heartbeat, a flame burning up from their joined bodies, heat delicately melting and ravenously devouring her at the same time. She shivered and arched beneath him in sensual abandon.
Ty groaned and felt fire eat ever more deeply into him, burning away thought, burning away reluctance, leaving only the elemental union of male and female, a joining that was deeper than flesh, hotter than desire, two living flames leaping higher as they touched, overlapped, entwined. He swore in a mingling of awe and triumph as he felt his lover’s fluid grace rise to match his own savage need.
“Satin...butterfly,” Ty said hoarsely, more accusation than affection in his voice. “Did you think that I’d marry you once I found what it was like to have you?”
He thrust his tongue into Janna’s mouth, muffling whatever her answer might have been. Before the kiss ended she was moaning softly and moving in languid counterpart to the slow, circular dance of his hips.
“It won’t work,” he said, his breath coming quickly, heavily. “I’ll take every bit of your body. I’ll give you every bit of my body in return. But that’s all. Just two bodies giving and taking. Do you hear me?”
She moaned brokenly and closed herself around him in a deep, instinctive caress.
“Do you hear me?” he demanded, clenching himself against the unbearable seduction of her body.
“Yes,” she whispered. Her hips lifted slightly, then circled, seducing him, loving him. “I heard you the first time you told me in the valley.”
“What?”
His past words echoed cruelly within her mind: I’ll have my silken lady or I’ll have none at all for longer than it takes to pleasure myself.
“I know that I’m not the silken lady of your dreams,” Janna said, her voice a whisper of unquenchable hope and a foretaste of despair. “You’re pleasuring yourself. That’s all.”
He didn’t argue or protest her words.
She had expected no more, yet she had to bite her lip not to protest aloud the emotions tearing through her, passion and grief and the shivering precursors of wild ecstasy. When he moved within her again, she wept silently, grateful that it was too dark for him to see her tears, feeling his breath as cool, quickening gusts over her wet cheeks.
“But you still want me?” Ty persisted. “No games, no secret plans, no regrets?” He locked their bodies together suddenly, a joining so deep and hot and complete that it tore a low cry from his throat, a cry that was her name. He rocked against her with tiny, intense motions, burning up, buried in fire and wanting it, all of it, burning. “Do you still want this?”
“I want...” she whispered, but could say no more because tears drowned her voice and the truth was too bitter to speak aloud.
She wanted to be loved by him in all ways, not just one.
“Janna?” he asked, holding himself motionless but for the helpless shuddering of his aroused body. “Answer me.”
She tried to move, to take from him what he was withholding. It was impossible. He was too strong, too skilled, and she loved him.
“Yes, damn you,” she whispered achingly. “Yes!”
He heard only the agreement, not the pain. He let out his pent breath in a ragged groan.
“I need you,” he said in a low voice. His hips began to move in quickening rhythms as shudder after shudder of tension went through his powerful body. “God help me, I’ve never needed any woman like this.”
Janna heard the bafflement and strain in Ty’s voice and felt herself swept up in his overwhelming need. Crying silently, loving him and knowing that he would love no one but the silken lady of his dreams, Janna took all that he would give to her of himself and in return gave all of herself that he would take.
The sensual generosity of her response washed over him, bathing both of them in fire. She heard his broken groan, felt the power of him within her redouble, felt the hungry, rhythmic penetration as his body drove against hers again and again and again. His urgency excited her, overwhelmed her, shattered her, and still he moved hard within her, drinking her rippling cries, rocking, rocking, rocking...burning, she was burning and there was no end to the wild, consuming flames.
Her breath broke and a low cry was torn from her throat as she surrendered to savage ecstasy. He drank that cry and silently asked more of her, fierce in his demands of her body, wanting something he couldn’t name, driving into her as though she were the last woman he would ever have, wanting at some deep, wordless level of his consciousness to leave his imprint upon her very soul.
Her legs twisted around his waist and her body shivered, her mouth bit into his, her nails scored his back; and he smiled and spoke dark words to her as he slipped his arms beneath her knees and slowly pulled her legs up his body, over his shoulders, opening her to him fully.
With deep, shuddering pleasure he drove again and again into the satin heat of her body, smothering her abandoned cries with his mouth, penetrating her completely, repeatedly, powerfully, until she was wracked by ecstasy. And still his potent movements continued, as though he would become a part of her or die in the effort. She thought she could know no greater pleasure without dying, and she tried to tell him but suddenly she had no voice, no will, for she was transfixed by a savage rapture.
Janna would have screamed her pleasure then, heedless of the danger, but Ty’s mouth was consuming hers. He took the ecstatic scream into himself as passionate convulsions swept his body, burning him to his soul, ecstasy pouring through him with every heartbeat.
And he thought he was dying as he poured himself into her wildly shivering, welcoming body.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Utterly spent, Ty groaned softly and laid his head next to Janna’s. He kissed her very gently, feeling an almost overwhelming tenderness toward the woman who had accepted him without restraint or regret or promises, bringing him the most intense, consuming union he had ever known.
When his lips brushed her cheek he tasted tears. The thought that his ecstasy had caused her hurt made pain lance harshly through him, an agony as surprising to him as the endless, hot, violent upwelling of his need for her had been.
“I’m sorry,” he said, kissing her face blindly, gently, finding everywhere the taste of tears. “Little one, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She tried to answer but could not, for emotion had closed her throat.
He held her, rocking her in his arms, hating himself for hurting the girl who had saved his life at such great risk to her own.
“I owe you so much more than this...” he whispered, and he was haunted by the silken lady he had dreamed of so long, the wife who would be the greatest adornment of the life he would build to replace what war had taken away. “Oh God, what have I done to you, to myself?”
Janna shook her head silently, fighting for control of herself, not understanding what had caused the pain in Ty’s voice. After a few moments she was able to speak. “You didn’t hurt me.”
/> “Like hell I didn’t.”
“I felt nothing but pleasure.”
He heard her words, felt her hands stroking his hair, soothing him, and felt a cold rush of self-contempt. He had wanted her, he had taken her despite her innocence, and in doing so he had left her suited only for the life of a prostitute or a nun.
“You’re so innocent. My God, you don’t even understand what has happened, do you?”
“I understand that you didn’t hurt me.”
“I didn’t hurt...” His laughter was low and as harsh as the guilt clawing at him. His hands tightened on her as he realized the extent of his folly. “You little fool, I ruined you! You have no family, no profession, no wealth. All you had of value for a husband was your virginity, and now that’s gone. I’ve left you suited to be nothing except a man’s mistress, but you lack the social graces for even that profession. You’ll end up locked in a nun’s cage or you’ll be the toy of many men, not one.”
Janna flinched and tried to draw away from Ty’s cruel summation of her value as a woman, a mate, but she was too securely held to retreat. He drew her closer, not even noticing her futile attempts to free herself from his embrace.
“Never mind, little one,” he said, his voice low and empty, echoing with despair at the death of his personal dream, the silken lady who now would forever be beyond his reach. “It was my fault, not yours. I’ll marry you as soon as we get to the fort.”
It took Janna a minute to absorb what he had said, what he had implied—and when she understood, she was wild with hurt.
“Like burning hell you’ll marry me,” she said in a low, savage voice.
“What?”
“I may be suited only to be a saloon girl, but I keep my word.”
“Janna, I didn’t mean—” he began, only to be cut off.
“No! I said that I wouldn’t ask for any promises or have any regrets or any secret plans,” she whispered angrily, telling herself that hopes weren’t the same as plans.
Not that it mattered. Ty had taken care of the hopes, as well. No family. No profession. No wealth. No social graces.
And no emotion in his voice but guilt and despair and anger at being trapped into marrying such a poor specimen of femininity.
“I’ve never trapped a living thing in my life,” she said fiercely, “and I’ll be damned to hell for eternity if I take your freedom now. Do you hear me, Tyrell MacKenzie? Do you?”
“You didn’t take my freedom. I gave it away the same way men always have, thinking with my crotch instead of my brain.”
“You can have it right back—freedom, brain, crotch, all of it. I want nothing that isn’t freely given.”
“The world doesn’t work that way, sugar,” he said wearily, releasing her and rolling over onto his back. “The only virgin a decent man takes is the girl who becomes his wife. We’ll be married as soon as—”
“They’ll be picking cotton in hell before I marry you,” she interrupted, her voice shaking, her body cold and empty without him.
It was as though Ty hadn’t heard. “I’m responsible for you. I live up to my responsibilities.”
“I’m responsible for myself. I’ve lived on my own for five years. I can do it for another—”
“Christ!” he hissed, cutting her off. “Are you so naive that you don’t know you could get pregnant after this? How would you take care of yourself, much less a baby, too?” He waited, but there was no answer except the small sounds she made as she searched for her clothes in the darkness. “We’ll be married at the fort and you’ll stay there while I hunt for Lucifer.”
“No.”
“Janna—oh, the hell with it,” he whispered harshly. “We’ll be married at the fort and then we’ll hunt Lucifer together. Does that satisfy you?”
“No.”
She thrust an arm through a shirtsleeve and fished around for the other opening. Even if it hadn’t been dark, the tears streaming down her face would have blinded her. None of her emotions showed in her constrained whisper, for which she was grateful. Having marriage offered to her out of guilt was bad enough. Having it offered to her out of pity was unbearable.
“Janna, be reasonable. I’ll need Lucifer to build a good horse herd,” Ty said as patiently as he could manage. “Otherwise I’ll have no way to take care of my family.”
“I said I’d help you catch Lucifer and I will. Marriage was no part of the bargain.”
His patience evaporated. With uncanny speed he grabbed her, flattened her beneath him once more and began whispering furiously.
“Listen to me, you little fool. You have no idea how the world works.”
“Then teach me,” she whispered defiantly. “Teach me how to please a man, how to be good enough to be a mistress rather than a whore. That’s all I ask of you. Education, not marriage.”
“But if you’re preg—” he began.
“I stopped bleeding two days ago,” she interrupted. “There’s little chance you’ve made me pregnant.”
He should have been relieved, but the scent and feel of her beneath him was driving everything else from his mind. Even as he told himself he must be crazy, he realized that he wanted her again.
“This time, yes,” he agreed huskily, “but what about the next time I take you, and the next, and the times after that? Because if I’m around you, I’ll take you every damned chance I get.” His hand slid down her body until he could feel once more her intimate heat. “Satin butterfly,” he whispered, unable to control the faint trembling of his fingers as he skimmed the edges of her softness. “Don’t you understand yet? When I see you, hear you, smell you, touch you, taste you...”
A threadlike groan vibrated through him to her.
“You’re killing me,” he whispered. “I can’t leave you alone if I’m around you. I can’t live with myself if I get you pregnant. And I need you around so that I can track down Lucifer before he gets killed or this whole damned territory blows up in our faces. We have to get married, Janna. There’s no other way.”
“No.”
She clamped her legs together, trying to deny him the softness only he had ever touched.
It was futile. All she succeeded in doing was imprisoning his hand between her thighs. He made a sound of pleasure and despair as one finger slid gently into her and he felt her sleek, humid warmth surrounding him once more.
“I won’t marry you,” she whispered, her breath breaking. “Do you hear me? I won’t spend my life having you look at me and long for a silken lady.”
He hesitated, then slowly probed her sensuous warmth. “I hear you. But what are we going to do about this? I meant what I said, little one. Having had you, I can’t leave you alone.”
She tried not to give voice to her pleasure, but a husky sound escaped her lips. “Teach me. That’s all I ask of you. A mistress, not a whore.”
The words went into him like knives, twisting even as they sliced into him. “I can’t live with that. It’s not enough. You deserve much more. Come back to Wyoming with me,” he said in a low voice, caressing her because he was helpless to stop. “Silver and Cassie can teach you how to sit and speak and smile like a lady. They’ll teach you how to dress and I’ll see that you have enough dowry to attract a good man, a man who won’t berate you for what I took from you. Then you’ll be a married woman, not any man’s mistress or every man’s whore.”
“I’ll marry no man,” she whispered. “Ever.”
“Janna...”
Her only answer was a husky cry and her warmth reaching out to Ty, silently promising oblivion within her body. The heat and scent of her filled his nostrils, sending a wave of desire through him. Suddenly he wanted to bend down and immerse himself in her, tasting her essence, drinking the very secrets of her body. The thought shocked him, for he had never wanted that kind of intimacy with a woman before.
“You’re so sweet to touch,” he whispered, stroking her with slow, hidden motions. “I never knew a woman could be so responsive, so perfect. S
atin butterfly, more beautiful to me each time I touch you.”
“Ty...” she said, moaning his name softly, feeling her tumultuous emotions condense into pure burning desire.
She knew she should tell him to stop, but she was unable to form the words. She wanted his touch too much. She had never known such ravishing closeness with anyone, had never even dreamed it was possible. The knowledge that he, too, found something special in her made it impossible to turn away from his need.
Ty heard the telltale break and quickening of Janna’s breath and didn’t know whether to curse or laugh as he felt himself hardening, succumbing to her sleek satin trap once more. She was a handful of fire, a sensuous dream, so recently a virgin and yet so generous and unafraid as a lover.
Her small hands found his in the darkness and she held them motionless, trying to still the secret movements within her body.
“Stop,” she whispered, yet even as she spoke she felt her own heat overflowing in silent contradiction.
“Why?” he murmured, slowly penetrating and withdrawing from her body despite her clinging fingers. “Am I hurting you?”
“N-no.”
To him the sensual break and shiver of her voice was as arousing as her heat welling up at his touch.
“You’re too innocent to understand how rare you are, how extraordinary this is,” he whispered, feeling the vital hardening of his flesh as he bent down to her. “But I’m not innocent. I know. I’d agree to anything in order to keep on touching you. I’ve never been like this with any woman. Bruja, sweet fire witch. You burn me alive and I tremble and spend myself within you...and then you renew me with a breath, a kiss, a touch.”
Janna whispered his name helplessly, moved beyond words that she could affect him so deeply.
“Renew me,” he whispered, lifting her hand and kissing it before placing it over his swelling male flesh.
She felt the helpless, sensuous jerk of his body as her fingers curled around him in answer to the pressure of his own hands.