Desert Angel (34 page)

In the bedroom, Jim lowered her feet to the ground, but kept an arm around her slender waist. The room was bathed in the light of the moon, making a lamp unnecessary.

“Monday,” he murmured as he lowered his lips to hers, gliding whisper-soft against them.

March stood quietly in his arms, slowly spelling the word to herself. It was one she had learned easily, and prided herself on remembering. The touch of his lips against hers was soothingly familiar.

“Tuesday.” Jim traced the shape of her lips with the very tip of his tongue, lingering slightly at the corners. His hands moved restlessly up and down the slope of her back, from her shoulders to her rounded bottom.

Tuesday wasn’t difficult either. There were only four letters with the word day at the end. His tongue was so warm and surprisingly soft. She wondered if he would object, if she tasted him as he was tasting her. Of course, he would, she decided with a sigh. He was the one making love; she was practicing her spelling.

“Wednesday.” Jim lifted his lips from hers and pulled loose the ribbons at the bodice of her robe. The silky fabric slid freely down her arms to pool at her feet. With fingers eager to explore new territory, he traced the path of the thin straps over her shoulders.

March closed her eyes, hoping that she could better concentrate if she wasn’t watching the fascination on Jim’s face. Wednesday was a tough word, one she almost always misspelled. How could he expect her to get it right, when his touch was so tender, his fingertips so warm?

“Thursday.”

“Wait! I haven’t gotten Wednesday right yet.”

“That’s all right, you can go back to it later.” He bent and kissed the soft skin where her shoulder met her neck. Suckling lightly, he left a lover’s brand on her creamy flesh.

“Thursday,” he repeated, kissing his way up the side of her neck, as his fingers journeyed down the sides of her body from the fullness of her breasts, lingering at her tiny waist and over well-rounded hips.

Thursday was nearly impossible with his lips against her neck. The pressure of his suckling against her skin sent shivers of delight down her back. His hands were incredibly warm, burning through the light layer of her gown and into her flesh. No, Thursday wasn’t easy.

“Friday.” Jim teased himself as much as he teased her, letting his lips and fingertips learn her in ways he’d often imagined. The silky fabric of her gown and the silky texture of her skin were driving him to a burning need, one that he intended to satisfy very thoroughly, very soon.

March bent her head to the side, giving him freer access to her neck. His inquisitive fingers traced the plunging neckline of the gown where it dipped between her breasts, delving just beneath the fabric to the skin below. She wasn’t sure she had spelled Friday correctly, which surprised her, since it was usually as easy as Monday … but then, she’d never been this distracted before, either.

She was surprised to realize that her breasts felt heavy and incredibly sensitive, her nipples were like hardened pebbles. That was a reaction she was familiar with when it was time to nurse the baby, but she had never imagined that she’d experience it at any other time.

“Sunday.”

“Wait . . . “ March moaned as the backs of his fingers trailed over the tips of her breasts. “I… I’m still working on Thursday.”

“Sunday, sweetheart. Thursday was way back here.” He suckled on her neck again, leaving another brand of possession.

“How am I supposed to remember how to spell Thursday when you do
that?”
she asked, moaning at the sensuous feel of his mouth on her skin.

“I’m sure you can figure something out.” Smiling at the obvious distraction on her face, Jim stepped back and pulled the suspenders from his shoulders. He watched her watching him, as he freed the buttons of his shirt. “Did you ever figure out Wednesday?”

“Wednesday?” As the shirt came open, she discovered that his chest was lightly covered with dark hair. Wanting suddenly to reach out and touch him, March closed her hands into fists at her sides.

“Try something easier, like Friday or Sunday.” Pulling his shirt free from his pants, he slid it from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Moving away from her, he locked the heel of his boot in the bootjack, and pulled his foot free. Soon his socks joined his shirt and her robe on the floor.

“Friday? That’s … that’s usually an easy one.” March watched with utter fascination as he unbuttoned his pants and let them slide down his long legs. Covered only by his knee-length drawers, she swallowed hard at the obvious bulge. She knew exactly what was there, having cared for Jamie and her little brothers, but somehow it was so innocent when the male was a baby, and so … so exciting when it was Jim.

Satisfied that he had caught her attention, Jim lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Lowering her slowly onto the crisp white sheets, he leaned over her and let his mouth make a trail from her shoulder to the beginning slope of her breast.

This wasn’t at all like she expected, March decided as she looked at his dark head against her breast. Not at all!

“January” Jim pulled free the ribbons that tied on her shoulders and one beneath her breast, leaving the gown in place.

“I haven’t finished the days yet,” March muttered as his warm breath fanned across her. He slid his drawers from his body, giving her only a brief view of his masculinity before he joined her on the bed.

“February,” he whispered, as he made a trail down the center of her body, stopping just short of his ultimate goal. When he could stand it no longer, he slipped the bodice of the gown down to the tip of her breast.

“April.”

“You forgot March,” she reminded him with a moan, as his hand rubbed gently against her stomach, making wider and wider circles with each rotation.

“Never, ever, sweet March. How could I forget a taste as heady as wine? Skin softer than the softest velvet? The little moans of pleasure, when I touch or taste? No, angel, I could never forget March.”

Jim kissed the slope of her breast, pushing the gown out of his way until the cherry pink tip was exposed. A fever of need soared through him, as he lowered his mouth and gently suckled. Taking care not to hurt her, he tasted his fill, then traveled to the other breast.

She had forgotten how to spell April! God above, what was he doing? This was something entirely new and unexpected. She wanted to clutch him tighter to her. She wanted to push him away, as she felt a frightening new sensation course through her. She wanted … she wanted to spell April.

“May.” Jim raised her enough to free her from the gown. The moonlight fell softly on her skin, and he caught his breath at the beauty of her body. Her full breasts gave way to a waist he could span with his hands, and led to rounded hips and a flat stomach. The curls at the crown of her femininity were the same golden blond as the hair on her head, and he was eager to discover the treasure they protected.

“June.” Kissing, tasting, teasing, Jim forgot why he was naming the months of the year. He forgot everything but the lovely woman who was his wife.

“July.” With incredibly gentle fingers, he parted her thighs and found the warmth of her. Her moans of surprised pleasure were adding to his heightened enchantment, as he teased them both.

“August.”

March thought she knew what to expect, but whatever that was, it wasn’t this. Her body felt on fire, and yet shivers kept dancing across her skin. Her breasts ached, and there was an unfamiliar throbbing deep inside her.

“September.”

She couldn’t stop her hands from moving to Jim’s back, tracing the heavy muscles, delighting in the warmth and smoothness of his skin. The hair on his chest tickled against her in a way that added to her awareness of him. When he parted her thighs and gently stroked her, she felt a tightening anticipation deep within her.

“October.”

Jim lifted himself over her, resting comfortably between her silky legs. He felt the heat and the need, and knew he was as close to losing control as ever in his life.

“November.”

March waited with her breath caught in her chest, for him to become a part of her, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry. With his hands buried in her hair, he kissed her neck, working his way toward her mouth. His lips were hot as they settled onto hers, his tongue invading in a dance of passion. His hips rocked slowly back and forth, while the hair on his chest rubbed deliciously against her sensitive breasts.

“Please?” she asked, pleading for release from the sensuous torment.

It was all the invitation he needed. One word that told him he wasn’t alone in this ritual of mating. In her innocence she had thought she wouldn’t be involved, and he had gently taken her on a journey of discovery of her own body.

Jim slipped into her eager warmth, sighing as she sheathed him protectively in her body.

“December.”

TWENTY-ONE

“Want another spelling lesson?” Jim felt her moan more than he heard it. She lay snuggled tightly against his side, her surprisingly long legs tangled with his.

“Did you ever figure out how to spell Wednesday?” he asked far too innocently. “I think that was the first day that gave you trouble.”

When a muffled mumble was her only response, he smiled with male satisfaction. “I think I could get rather fond of April … and July is definitely tops in my spelling book.”

“What did you do to me?” March felt as weak as a newborn kitten, yet her skin was so sensitive that the slightest touch filled her with awareness.

“You mean you don’t remember? I thought I was just helping you practice your spelling.”

“I think I got a little sidetracked.” She wanted to roll over and stretch, but without something to cover herself, March felt much too bashful, even after the incredibly intimate act they had just shared.

“Well then, maybe we should work on it.” Not nearly as inhibited, Jim rolled her to her back and leaned over her. “Do you remember April?”

“April?” March felt her face flame as his gaze came to rest on her breasts.

“Yes, angel. April.” Jim lowered his lips to the tips of her breasts, gently suckling. “And July.” His hands drifted slowly down her body, until he found the enticing entrance.

March arched her back, bringing her nipple more fully into his mouth, and opened her thighs to invite his touch.

“I think I’ll need to practice my spelling more than once or twice a month,” she moaned, soaring with newfound desire.

“Once or twice a month? Sweetheart, I don’t know where you got the idea that we’d only make love once or twice a month, but I assure you, it will be much more often than that… more like once or twice a day.”

“I will be an excellent speller by our first anniversary.” March reached for him, her eyes inviting his possession.

“Oh, I can guarantee that.” Jim slid between her legs and slowly entered her. “And we’ll always end the lesson with December.”

“Didn’t you forget Saturday?” March asked later, much later, with a sigh of utter completion.

“Umm …” Jim couldn’t remember ever feeling as satisfied in his life. Rather than fearing him, March matched him touch for touch, kiss for kiss, following his lead when she wasn’t sure what to do next.

“You remember Saturday? Follows Friday, before Sunday?”

“Oh, baby, I remember Saturday.” He turned to her and pulled her into his arms. “When we finally get to Saturday, I promise you that you’ll never forget it either.”

From habit, Jim woke just as the sun began to chase away the darkness. Knowing that he needed to get up, but reluctant to leave the bed, he spent long, leisurely minutes studying his new wife.

In the morning light she looked far too young to be a wife and mother, too young to handle the tremendous responsibility. Yet she did handle it, and did an excellent job. Her features were delicately feminine, from her rounded chin to her upturned nose. Long, thick lashes of dark gold rested against her cheeks, and her slightly parted lips innocently invited him to sneak a taste.

He felt a stirring of desire and shook his head in rueful disbelief. It didn’t seem possible that he could want her again. But there was no denying the awareness that was burning through him.

Wondering if he was dreaming, praying that he’d never wake up, he smiled ruefully when reality called.

The squeaking protest from the room down the hall was a vivid reminder that he wasn’t dreaming, and that a new day had dawned. Climbing out of bed before Jamie could waken March, Jim went to get the baby.

March heard Jamie, but before she could do more than battle to open her eyes, she felt Jim leave the bed. Rolling over and stretching, she smiled at the soothing sound of his voice and Jamie’s gurgling response. The baby was always happy to see someone first thing in the morning, but his good mood would last only a very few minutes, before hunger took control.

March swung her legs over the side of the bed, startled to discover that she was slightly sore … in a very pleasant way. Pulling the sheet up over her breasts and holding it into place beneath her arms, she looked for something to cover her more modestly. The only thing available was her gown lying in a puddle of silk on the floor, with Jim’s shirt a complementary embellishment on top and his pants staking a place of prominence to the side of it.