God, he loved her, he thought, glancing over his shoulder. His chest expanded with a sense of awe. Beautiful, spirited Amanda Hamilton was all his. From her crown of long glorious blond hair to the tips of her pink-painted toenails. From the dimple in her right cheek to the birthmark behind her left knee.
He stared at the delicate features of her face, her soft skin, and those full lips he loved to kiss. Desire stirred within him, warming his blood, and he returned his attention to the cake before he forgot the real purpose for bringing her here. Striking a match, he lit all eighteen candles, casting a soft glow about the cabin.
Stepping behind her, he slipped off the blindfold. “Happy birthday, Amanda,” he whispered into her ear.
Unable to miss the blazing cake on the table, she let out a sentimental sigh. “Oh, Johnny, this is so sweet.”
Turning her in his arms, he swept his hands down her back to rest at the base of her spine. “I wanted tonight to be special.”
Her deep blue eyes sparkled with adoration, and a sweet smile brushed her mouth. “It is. I have you.”
He grinned. “That you do.” After dropping a light kiss on her lips, he ushered her toward the table. “Make a wish, sweetheart.”
She laughed, the sound light and melodious. “What do I have to wish for when I have everything I could ever want?”
Not yet, but soon, he thought. “I’m sure you can think of something.”
She closed her eyes, a frown of concentration creasing her brow. A moment later a brilliant smile lit her face, dimpling her cheek. She released a deep breath of air, her lashes fluttering open. The candles sputtered and went out. “I hope my wish comes true.”
“I hope so too.” He placed a small square velvet box in her palm. “This is for you, Amanda. May all your dreams come true.”
She looked up at him, her gaze curious.
“Go on,” he urged, wishing he could calm the anxiety clenching his belly. What if this wasn’t what Amanda wanted?
His heart thundered in anticipation as tentatively she opened the box and peeked inside. A diamond engagement ring, nestled within the folds of black satin, winked up at her. Her breath caught and she glanced at him, her eyes shimmering. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
Bending on one knee, he grasped her left hand. Taking the modest ring from the box and bringing it to her finger, he met her bluer-than-blue gaze and asked, “Will you marry me, Amanda Hamilton?”
Her hand trembled in his. “Are you sure?” she whispered.
“Absolutely.” He knew what she was asking. They were young, had never dated anyone except each other. Lately his friends had been badgering him to break things off with Amanda so he could sow his oats before he shackled himself to just one woman. But J.T. didn’t want anyone but Amanda.
“You’ve always been mine, Amanda, ever since you were seven and fell into the creek and I saved you from drowning.”
She smiled at the memory, but he still saw the doubts lingering in her eyes. “Your cousin Randal told me you weren’t ready to settle down yet.”
Anger gripped him in a cold, hard fist. He hated that the rivalry between himself and Randal had touched Amanda. “He lied, Mandy. I want my future with you,” he continued, his hold on her hand tightening. “I’m not rich, you know that, but Dad gave me a raise, so you won’t have to get a job. We can live at the ranch house until we can afford a place of our own. I want babies with you, and the whole works. Amanda, please,” he implored. “I love you.”
She touched the tips of her fingers to his jaw and slowly nodded. “Yes, John Tyler Rafferty, I’ll marry you. I’ve loved you forever....”
His body shuddered with relief and he secured the ring on her left hand before she could change her mind. Standing, he dropped his mouth over hers, officially sealing their engagement with a deep kiss that quickly turned hot and urgent.
Lips fused, tongues mating, his hands sought the curves of her waist and hips, then moved upward, cupping the weight of her breasts. Moaning softly, she moved closer, pressing her petite form to his tall, muscular frame. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, but what she lacked in height she more than made up for in feminine contours. And his mouth and hands knew every one of them intimately, knew just how to touch and caress her to make her melt in his arms.
J.T. grew hard against her belly, his body tingling in a familiar way that told him he wasn’t far from losing his sanity and embarrassing himself. Tearing his mouth from hers, he drew in a steadying breath. “Amanda, we have to stop.”
She gave him a seductive smile that did nothing to ease his predicament. “No, Johnny.”
Gritting his teeth, he caught the hand skimming down his chest to the leather belt cinching his waist. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back tonight.”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
He stared at her, smoothing the silky strands of hair away from her face with his free hand. Her words inflamed and aroused him. The sultry look in her eyes caused havoc with his libido. They’d fondled and petted and knew every creative approach to foreplay, but they’d never made love. They were both virgins.
He swallowed the thickness gathering in his throat. “Mandy, we’ve both waited so long. Are you sure?”
She nodded, and with a shy innocence more provocative than that of a more experienced woman, she slowly slipped the pearl buttons on her bodice through their holes. Fascinated, he watched the ever-widening gap of material reveal a cotton bra and the smooth, apricot-hued flesh of her stomach. Blood surged to his groin, straining his arousal against the fly of his jeans.
“Amanda—”
“If I’m going to marry you, there’s no reason why we can’t make love now,” she said, her voice husky. “I’ve wanted you for so long. I want more than caresses and kisses.” Giving her shoulders a delicate shrug, the dress slipped down her arms, over her hips, and down her legs to pool at her feet. She unhooked her bra and added it to the pile. She stood before him in nothing more than wispy panties and the moonlight from the window streaming across her skin. “I want to feel you inside me. Please, Johnny.”
His mouth went dry as dust and a shudder ran the length of his body. Any good intentions he might have had to discourage her from this seduction vanished, along with his self-control. He’d seen her naked before, but the perfection of her lithe and supple body, the fullness of her breasts, the gentle flare of her hips, and the shadowed-secrets between her thighs, never ceased to take his breath away.
Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the twin bed in the corner of the shack. He took off her sandals and removed her panties. She reached for the buttons on his shirt, but he pushed her hands away, too impatient to feel skin against skin, softness against hardness, to let her help. A minute later he was as naked as she, and so powerfully aroused, he thought he’d burst before he had the luxury of being sheathed inside her.
He didn’t want to hurt her, and even though his body demanded he ease his smoldering need, he took the time to prime her for his entry. Pushing her to the absolute brink of pleasure, he widened her thighs and settled his hips in that natural cove. He met immediate resistance, a blunt pressure, and she gasped, her fingers gripping his arms. Through the hazy fog enveloping his mind and the thundering pulse in his veins, he managed to murmur, “Sorry.”
He shook with the effort to go slow and be gentle. Then male instinct took over and he thrust forward, pushing deeper and deeper inside her, until he passed that maiden barrier.
She arched against him and cried out, a sharp sound of pain and uncertainty. He groaned, awed by the incredible feeling of finally being one with her, of taking her innocence and giving her his in return. She was tight and hot, and as he slipped even deeper, she melted around him like liquid satin. As his hips began a slow rhythm, he watched her pained expression change to wonder, heard that soft, sweet moan that told him she was close, so close. The wave of tiny tremors tensing the muscles deep inside her triggered his release.
Sensations unlike any he’d ever experienced closed in on him. Tingles, tremors, a building, roaring heaviness, and most pronounced was the desperate need to bind her to him forever. If he let go, if he succumbed to the pleasure whispering to his senses, he would lose her....
No!
The screeching sound of steel grinding into steel echoed in his head. Shattering glass. Shrill, agonizing screams that ripped into his soul. Then spine-chilling, absolute silence that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“Amanda,” J.T. groaned. She started to slip away and he tightened his hold. A crushing emptiness enveloped him, a loneliness so bleak he couldn’t breath.
Please don’t leave me, Amanda. Please!
“Hey, wake up,” a soft, feminine voice called.
She wiggled beneath him, soft and pliant, a vague reassurance that Amanda was still with him. He cupped a breast in his palm, confused by the feel of soft cotton and the restraint of a bra. She squirmed a little more, her jeans-clad legs tangling with his. In a fragmented part of his mind he realized she was fully clothed. How could that be when she’d just undressed for him?
“Amanda,” he murmured, valiantly trying to pull himself from the murky depths of sleep.
“Wake up!”
Something hard shoved against his chest, and he grunted as a shaft of pain ricocheted in his skull. Groggy and slightly disoriented, he managed to open his eyes to mere slits. Blue eyes, so dark and velvety they reminded him of lush violets, met his.
He smiled lazily. “Amanda,” he whispered, relieved that her dying had been a bad, awful dream. Lowering his head, he pressed his damp open mouth to the warm skin of her neck. “Amanda.”
“I’m not Amanda,” the woman beneath him said, struggling to push his weight off her. “Please, you’re crushing me.”
Frowning, he forced the thick cobwebs from his mind and pulled back enough to get a clear look at the woman. The sunshine streaming through the window sharpened his blurry vision, and he found himself staring not at his blue-eyed, blond-haired Amanda in the throes of passion, but a blue-eyed, brunette stranger determined to fend off his advances.
“What the hell?” Lightning quick, he rolled off her, and the bed, to his bare feet. A sharp, brutal pain lanced through his head, and for a moment the room dipped and whirled. He sucked in a harsh breath.
Grabbing the back of the chair by the bed, he regained his balance and focused on the woman he’d left sprawled on the bed. She looked embarrassed and flustered by their encounter. Disheveled, chin-length, glossy brown hair rumpled around a face set with delicate features, and a slight flush painted her cheeks a rosy hue. Her lips were damp and a little bit swollen. He couldn’t deny that he’d kissed her. He still had the honeyed taste of her in his mouth.
He closed his eyes and swore. For the sweetest moment he’d believed Amanda was still alive, that a drunk driver had never hit them head on, killing her, when he’d driven her home that night after they’d made love. It had been so long since he’d dreamed of her, and everything had seemed so real.
“Are you okay?” came the woman’s worried voice.
He looked at her and suddenly realized he was completely naked and painfully aroused from his dream—and from having her pressed beneath him. Swearing again, he snatched the pillow from the bed and covered himself.
A half smile of amusement brushed her lips as she sat up and swung her legs off the side of the mattress. Self-consciously, she straightened her flannel shirt and ran her fingers through her hair. “No need to get modest on me. I saw everything there was to see last night.”
“No kidding?” J.T. searched his mind for a memory, anything to explain why he was in the ranch’s line shack with a woman he didn’t know and a splitting headache threatening to explode his brain. He didn’t drink, so he knew he didn’t have a hangover. And he didn’t pick up strange women. And even if he did, he wouldn’t bring them to a one-room shack, the only accommodations being a twin bed, a woodstove, a table, and a few blankets and rations.