J
ake’s
kiss, although sensual, held now a hint of gentleness. Out of all of Jake’s kisses, she might have liked this kiss the best. He was careful, but the way his lips lingered on hers, the way his tongue softly stroked in her mouth, it was as if he was trying to convey how much he desired her, cared for her.
He cared for her. After years of feeling like a used piece of garbage to now be cared for...she could hardly believe it. Eagerly her lips met Jake’s, wanting to escalate things until he burst for her. She wanted to please him, because, well, he was an angel. A rough, bossy, intimidating-as-hell angel. He might think himself a beast, because he had a few scars, but she knew just how beautiful he was.
Needing him more than ever before, Meredith wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He circled his huge arms around her. Did the man have any idea how much she ached for his arms? The way they bulged at his biceps, the cut lines through his large forearms—God, it was enough to liquefy her bones just thinking about it. And those arms held her. Her fingers feathered over his round firm shoulders then wrapped around his triceps. The strong muscles twitched with every move he made, and she adored how she couldn’t come close to closing her fist around his arm. He was so big, so powerful, so...she could hardly believe it...hers.
He wanted her. He was kissing her. And if she weren't mistaken, and it was difficult to believe, he’d sounded a tad discouraged when she’d said she wanted to wait to get married. He
really
wanted her.
Did he have any idea how much she ached for him?
Suddenly, through their kiss, she began to tremble, her own need to show him how much she wanted him almost unbearable, making her feel only him, only where he touched her.
“Jake,” she whispered as he trailed kisses to her ear.
There were billions and billions of tiny buttons on her wrists, and she tore at them, almost ripping them off, the need to feel his body against hers so strong. Somehow the dress finally released its grip of her, and she slowly stood before him, sliding the rustling fabric down. He unfolded himself from the chair, watching as she hurriedly untied her petticoats and let them puddle at her feet. He seemed to notice her breasts with fascination, though covered in her shift and corset. God, was there anything better than knowing her body pleased him. He didn’t think her too chubby, didn’t want her to run more, didn’t want her hip bones protruding a certain amount. He wanted her like this. Well fed and curves everywhere.
His stare, the way the muscles in his chest contracted, as if holding him back—Meredith could hardly stand it. She moaned, even though he wasn’t even touching her. One side of his lips curled up. His gray eyes had turned so dark, so needy, like hers, she would’ve guessed.
Only in her stays and slip, she lunged for him, reaching up on her toes to kiss him, feel him against her bare arms. His smooth skin always surprised her, though she didn’t know why. Granted, he had a few scars, but because he looked so rough, she’d assumed his skin would be too. But her arms glided across his shoulders and chest. Although she still wore her skivvies, the skin to skin contact made her nearly insane with need. Her nipples contracted. Her sex ached, ready for him to fill her. Thinking of just that, she slid her tongue in his mouth. When he reciprocated, she sucked in his tongue. He groaned and held her tighter, lifting her off the ground.
She nearly squealed in joy, but he needed a better hold on her, and wrapped one of his big hands around her sore bum. She accidentally hissed, the pain shooting up her back, making her brace away from him.
He carefully returned her to the ground, his brows furrowed.
She was going to explain that her hip had taken most of her weight in the fall, but instead, he tugged her slightly to the side. Kneeling down, beside her, he embraced her like that, careful not to touch her derriere. Closing her eyes, she channeled her fingers through his brown hair then was surprised to feel her stays loosening. As he pulled her corset down, he gently kissed around the bruise on her shoulder.
“I’ll kill him for this.” His whisper was a low rumble across her body. She wasn’t too sure if he would. She hadn’t even told Jake how scared she’d been when Bruisner had said something about a kiss, how she was scared he’d try to force himself on her. Well, he already had, but he could have...he might have...she couldn’t bear to finish the thought, too terrified.
Her trembling augmented. She’d been so frightened. But now she was safe with Jake. Still, her body remembered the fear as if she were back on top of the train’s car. Not being able to control herself, her chin shook and tears pricked her eyes. As her corset slid down her body, Jake stood, kissing her cheeks, her eyes, her quivering chin.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, taking her in his strong arms.
Safe here, she repeated to herself. Safe.
“I’ll stop.”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Did—did he hurt ye more than slap ye?” His voice was soft, but there was a roaring within his words, hardly controlled rage.
She looked down at his stomach. The bands of muscle were fascinating to watch. Right now he was tense, the thick ropes of his belly’s armor stretching, contracting. So strong. He was so strong. He was safe.
“Meredith, did he...oh, hell. Ye don’t have to tell me, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His hands began to shake, and the way he touched her turned so soft, so gentle.
Her gaze shot up. “He didn’t rape me. But...”
“But? Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to kill him.”
She placed a palm against his warm wall of a chest and looked up at him. “He didn’t—but he did at one point overpower me. And I had a gun and had shot him.”
“Ye shot him?”
“I couldn’t get the gun out of my pocket, so I couldn’t aim, and had shot him in the arm.”
He looked down at her with the look of...she couldn’t believe it. He looked so damned proud of her. His eyes rimmed with red even, and he kept swallowing.
“Ye’re so brave, my little Fury. So brave.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” she confessed, feeling shy, but forcing herself to keep her gaze on his. Her fingers drifted in lazy circles over his twitching skin.
“But Meredith, I can feel yer fear. Ye’re shakin’, lass.”
“Because I want you so much.”
His lids drooped, and he stopped breathing for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally inhaled, he seemed to sway. “I want ye something fierce, but we don’t have to. We could talk, ifnye want. Or not. I could just hold ye.”
He was such a good man. It made her heart beat ferociously under her ribs, made all of her body crave him, need him. She kicked her corset aside as she pushed her shift over one shoulder and shimmied it down.
“I—I don’t want what happened to stop me.” She’d wanted to say that loud and proud, but could only whisper it for some strange reason. It angered her that she was still scared, even though she knew Jake would protect her from anything. He was safe. “I
won’t
let it stop me, stop this.”
He stayed her movements just before she exposed a breast. Closing his eyes, he took a measured breath. When he opened his lids, he smiled down at her. “So brave, ye are. Lo—admire ye for that. But—”
His voice cracked and he stopped talking when she pulled her shift over her breasts. They bounced from the strain of finally being free from all confines, and he stared at them, his nostrils flaring, his dark gray eyes morphing even darker.
“Oh, Meredith,” he whispered reverently, his hands reaching up to cup her.
Her body pulsed in anticipation, aching for his calloused hands to palm her, to feel the roughness against her full breasts. Pulling down her shift until it was at her feet, she watched, trembling as Jake’s movement slowed. His eyes widened as his gaze tripped down her body.
“Oh, my woman, my Meredith.” He knelt before her again, carefully turning her to the side.
Yikes, the sore bruise on her hip was huge. And dark. It covered almost all of the right side of her buttocks and partially wrapped around her hip.
“I fell on it.”
“While runnin’ from him.” His fingertips turned even more gentle, almost tickling her as he caressed around the large purple image on her body.
Usually, she would have been self-conscious, especially since he was level with her not-exactly-flat stomach. But the things he’d whispered, the sentiments, his tender touches—he enthralled her. She was utterly besotted, tunneling her fingers through his silky hair.
“Fuath...”
he whispered the odd word, his nostrils flaring, his hand shaking.
It had sounded as if he’d said, “Vough,” or something like it, the “v” almost crossing into an “f” noise.
“Hmm?” she asked, almost timidly.
“Not you, darlin’. Never you.” He glanced up at her, not clarifying, which made her wonder if he knew he’d spoken a different language. Gaelic? She’d always wanted to learn Irish. Maybe one day he’d teach her.
While he gazed at her, he leaned forward and gently kissed over the swirls of black purple. Then he did it again. She released a shaky breath.
“Hurtin’ ye?” He tried to pull away.
She stopped him by holding his head close. “No.” She’d beg him if she needed to. Granted, her hip hurt, but not having him inside her ached much worse.
One of his huge hands stretched across her stomach. She felt so tiny then. Even with her weight gain, the span of his hand was almost as long as the front of her waist. His other hand did something similar against the small of her back. He bowed his head, just touching his forehead to her side.
Tunneling her fingers through his hair again, she gently pulled some, so she could see his face. She’d never been touched like this before, never had a man almost worship her, even while she had massive bruises.
His visage was tense. He frowned. “I wish I had been there to protect ye.”
“Oh.” She didn’t have any words. It was such a sweet thing he’d said, and she had never thought herself the kind of woman who’d wanted to hear it. She’d thought she could protect herself. But the thought of having him...there for her, to rely on, to depend upon. It made her heart pound, her nipples beaded, between her legs became liquid. And so hot. For him.
He was so sweet, and she hoped she wasn’t ruining his romantic sentiments, but she had to have him. Now.
Carefully, she wrapped her fingers around his, then pushed his hand down, over her belly, down over the dark curls, then cupped his palm against her sex.
His eyes had widened at first, but then he stroked her.
“So wet.”
“Yes.” Her voice was barely more than a breath. “For you.”
He moaned, his eyes closed. A finger found her clitoris and strummed her. She arched her head back, loving his touch, her body needing him more and more as each second passed.
His other hand was at the back of her leg, and he slid down to her knee, caressing around, then stroking his fingers up almost to her bruise then back down again. All the while he circled around her clit. She wanted his free hand on her breast, and moaned a protest for fondling her leg. Delirious from desire, she couldn’t even express herself any longer. So she cradled one of her own breasts. Hearing him groan, she looked down. He was watching her.
“Do it again.”
She cupped herself, and he growled from deep in his chest. Rolling her nipple between her finger and thumb, she hardly noticed when he lifted her leg.
“Hurt?”
She’d barely heard him, but shook her head when she registered he’d asked whether bending her knee hurt.
Then he smiled up at her, placing her leg over his shoulder. Almost out of her mind, she did cry out a little when he released his fingers from her sex. But he leaned forward and licked the nub below her curls. A rush of lightning swirled up her spine, tingling through her limbs. She whimpered at how good it felt. He kissed her there, open mouthed, and turned the kiss into sucking while his tongue laved over her clitoris. Screaming out, she forced a knuckle into her mouth to quiet her desire. But that did almost nothing when he inserted two thick fingers into her. Her knee gave out though, but he caught her against him.
He stopped what he was doing and held her, as his body slid against hers while he straightened. When he finally stood over her, so tall, so towering, so domineering, she’d had enough.
J
ake
couldn’t help but release a small hiss as Meredith attempted to take off his belt. His erection was barely restrained within in his pants, which utterly confounded him. He worried he shouldn’t be so needy, shouldn’t want her so much. She was obviously injured. But as she palmed around his cock, through his trousers, it was difficult not to be so heavily aroused.
Moaning, he tilted his head back as she fiddled with his belt while she ran her hand down his shaft then back up, rounding carefully along his head. He wrapped his arms around her, loving how he felt like a fortress surrounding her, yet how much he yearned to have been with her when she’d chased after Bruisner.
Damned Fury. He loved his wee troublemaking Fury.
Sensing his pants loosening, he glanced down at the top of her head close to his chest. She now used both hands with his trousers. His length shot out once she freed him, and he almost bucked into the air, the need for her so pressing.
“Oh my,” she whispered. Glancing up at him, she smiled widely.
Lord, that went straight to his cock too, thickening his already straining member until it pulsed. He tried to think rationally. She was hurt for Christ’s sake. He didn’t have to...
“We don’t have to...” His voice cracked.
Both of her hands fluttered up and lay flat against his chest. She pressed her naked body against his. Skin to skin. Her breasts squished tightly, her nipples contracting, caressing him. Words no longer occupied his mind, especially so as she slowly lowered down his body.
He should stop her.
She kissed to his stomach, laving her tongue between his muscles that contracted so hard as she touched them. The feeling of her jutting nipples sliding down his body was enough to make him tremble. Kneeling before him, she looked up while the heel of her hands skated up his stomach. Her fingers found both of his nipples and rubbed gently. As if that wasn’t stimulating enough, a few of her tresses were freed from her chignon, and tickled against his cock. He feathered his own fingertips across her cheeks. One of her hands dipped low, and he gasped when she took hold of his length. Light kisses landed on the head of his shaft, and he moaned as he watched his wee Meredith. Her tongue flicked out, circling around his slit. He held back from thrusting wildly forward. Barely. She kissed down one side of him, then nuzzled her face against his cock. He was truly shaking by then. Dipping his fingers in her hair, he decided to try to concentrate on extracting her hairpins when he felt her hot mouth on the tip of him. Focusing on her lips again, he let loose a growl when she fitted her lips around him, then slid down, hiding the head of his penis in her mouth. Her fingers wrapped around him, and he felt surrounded by her lips and hand. She ascended back up, licking around his head once more.
“Ah, God, Meredith.” He worried he’d nearly roared her name. So captivated with what she was doing, he didn’t know how to censor his volume.
She did it again, sliding down with her mouth and hand, then up. And again. It took everything in him not to buck forward, but to let her set the rhythm, which she did. Up and down. Up and down. He realized soon enough he’d let things go too far.
“Meredith, I’m...Lord,” he gritted between his words.
She looked up. Her eyes smiled. When she cupped his bollocks, he couldn’t hold back any longer, not when her pretty mouth was around him.
He thrust into her, trying not to push himself too far. Then did it over and over. She clutched at him, sucking hard.
Passionate warmth spread all over him, making him feel his seed was drawn from his chest down to his toes and was about to explode out.
“Meredith, I’m going to...”
She didn’t let go. But held on a tad harder, reciprocating into his bucking.
He came, moaning, hoping to God he wasn’t pushing himself too much on her. His spasms seemed to last an eternity as he held onto her back, holding her still. After a moment she extracted herself from him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Why?” Her murmur was more a purr. She arched her back and slid the valley between her breasts along his slick and sensitive shaft.
He bucked forward, then tried to hold himself back.
She ascended his body, making sure her nipples skimmed along his skin. “You didn’t like that?”
He laughed dryly. “I think it was a wee bit obvious how much I liked it.”
“Good.” Her laugh was low, so sultry. Sculpting her hands around his shoulders, she seemed to continue to purr as she kissed along his jaw.
He held her by her shoulders, pulling her away from him. “Meredith, lass.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m goin’ to throw ye on the bed and have my wicked way with ye now.”
“Goody.”
He laughed as he grabbed her by the waist. But then stopped checking to make sure he didn’t touch the giant purple mark on her hip. Then he worried. “I can’t throw ye.”
“Why not?” She pouted, making his body somehow stir back to life.
“Ye’re hurt. Can we—can ye even be on yer back?”
She nodded with that luscious grin of hers. “I can be on my back, on my side” —she presented her hourglass figure, the not marred side— “I can be on my front too.”
“Oh God.” And just like that, he was hard again, needing to be inside her.
*
T
hey
didn’t have dinner with Meredith’s friends, sending a message in their stead. Jake convinced her to stay in bed with him. When they were hungry, he ordered grub to eat in his room, and he fed her some kind of petit four with wee strawberries sculpted into rosebuds. Jake had no idea something that refined could be in Montana. But then again, this was Butte, the largest city in the territory, claiming to have a million occupants, but all cities seemed to boast such things, whether true or not.
He and Meredith had compensated for lost time, making love almost as much as they talked. Jake never found himself speaking about Bruisner, nor Meredith. He doubted they were averting the subject. It was just more pleasant discussing...anything else, laughing about the squeaking bed, how if he landed on just the right spot it excited Meredith. So he made sure to find the loud spring. Again and again.
Through the night, he held her as close as possible, whispering how much he loved her in Gaelic. He’d told her as much, also in Gaelic, the first time he’d made love to her. He truly had loved her then. But he loved her now more.
Mayhap he was being a coward, not admitting his feelings in English. But it seemed magically binding to tell her in his native tongue. She woke while the pale silver-yellow moon hung fat and heavy in the slick black sky. That enormous orb appeared almost as cold as the crystals in the air that never seemed to shift to the snow everyone wanted. Hours ago he’d had to start a fire for their room. Now, the embers illuminated the room orange. When she caressed his face, he wondered if orange, gold, and silver were the colors of his love for her. Ach, he couldn’t forget violet. That hue of purple was definitely the color of love.
He made love to her again, slowly, gently. Always before, he seemed to have such a need for her, seemed to be in such haste. He’d worried he was crazed for her body, for this act. But while inside her, moving to a slower rhythm, he knew the reason he needed her so much was because she was everything he’d ever wanted—fiery wee Fury.
He’d been forced from his brothers, his family, his country, his time, but he’d found her—lovely, wild Meredith. All of it was worth her.
In the early morning, when the sun streaked an orange burst in the horizon, they received a message from Meredith’s friends. They wanted to meet for breakfast. Another note arrived shortly hence. Quickly written scrawl indicated they might want to meet later. Jake assumed the couple was as busy as he and Meredith.
She lay on him, from making love after they’d gotten the message from her friends. He was partially inside her, still a little hard, which utterly fascinated him. He’d thought he’d known his body’s limitations. But when he met Meredith, he’d gotten to know a whole new side of himself.
Sliding his hands up her back, he smiled as she moaned against his chest.
“Why does everything you do feel so good?” Her head remained where it was over his heart, and he liked it when she curled around him like this.
“I’m so skilled at it.”
She giggled.
“Ach, my pride is wounded, woman. Ye laugh at me.”
She looked up, her smile wide and beaming as bright as the sun in the midst of summer. “’Ach,’ say that again. I like the way you say that.”
He petted some of her untamed hair from her face. “Say what? Ach?”
Her sex squeezed him. Apparently she did like that. Her eyes flitted closed, those long dark lustrous lashes of hers like fans around her orbs. “I like that. I like what you said last night too. Say it again.”
“What was that, darlin,?”
Her lids opened revealing those gorgeous, giant violet eyes of hers, already on fire again. “Um, what was it? You said something like, ha ghoul ackrim orst.”
His heart stuttered. It wasn’t exact, but she’d said she loved him in his native language. Warmth spread throughout his chest, licked him everywhere. Smiling, he nodded.
“Tha gaol
agam
ort.”
He’d annunciated
agam
, pronounced more like ackum.
She repeated what he’d said. Perfectly. And his heart pounded in triumph and love.
“That’s Gaelic, isn’t it?”
“Gaelic,” he repeated, using the more Scottish pronunciation of the combined vowels. “Aye.”
Her smile widened. “I like it best when you talk like this.”
“Aye?”
She nodded. “No accent.”
“Oh, I think I have a wee bit of an accent.”
She laughed again. “I mean, without your fake American accent.”
He grabbed her by her waist and rolled her under him. “I have a perfectly fine American accent. I worked on it for months.”
She squealed and laughed as he pinned her in place, holding her down by her hands while he kissed the inside of her right arm.
“No, oh—” She cut herself off with a moan as he kissed to her sensitive wrist. But then continued. “No, sweetheart, you don’t have a good accent. You over pronounce your R’s. ‘I have a perrrrfectly fine Amerrrrican accent.’ That’s what you sound like. Like you’re growling.”
He laughed while looking down at her, but then tried to stop. “Mayhap I am growling.”
“I do like it when you growl too.” She wrestled free one of her hands and caressed his heavily whiskered cheek. “Will you teach me Gaelic?” She’d pronounced it as he had.
“Aye.” His voice was more a whisper, almost too overcome with how happy he was at that moment.
“Tha gaol agam ort.
What’s it mean?”
A loud knock erupted at the door. “Urgent message for Sheriff Cameron.” A male voice announced.
Jake shuddered as he removed himself from Meredith. She did too, which made him smile. She’d been wet and had felt so damned good.
While he plunged into his trousers, she asked, “Please, can we have a few days where we do nothing but stay in bed all day?”
She was tying herself into a dressing gown, when he reached over the bed and kissed her tiny upturned nose. “I promise, I’ll make sure we have several days where we are only in bed, darlin’.”
She smiled and quickly brushed her lips against his before he rushed to the door. The porter standing in the hallway had apparently heard much of their conversation as his brown gaze skipped from Meredith then back at Jake with a merry twinkle. Jake did his best not to growl and tipped the man as he grabbed the message. Tearing into it, he read it was from Cat.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
God, he loved it when Meredith called him that. But his heart’s quick pace had more to do with the missive.
He glanced up at her. “Bruisner’s back in town.”