Pete (The Cowboys) (27 page)

Now, in the swelling tide of Pete’s love, it could feed and grow content.

Pete wrapped his arms around Anne and rolled over until she again lay atop him, her breasts pressed against the roughness of his shirt, his swollen groin cradled between her legs.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered into her hair. “You deserve something better than cold ground and a bed of leaves.”

She’d forgotten they were outside. She’d only been aware of Pete and her own body. “I’m not cold.” She felt alive with the fire he’d ignited in her veins. “I like it here. You look beautiful in the moonlight.”

Pete looked surprised at her words. Maybe you weren’t supposed to say a man was beautiful—maybe you were supposed to say he was rough, craggy, even homely in an unusual and rather attractive way—but Pete was beautiful to her, the most beautiful man in the whole world. She wanted to make him feel as beautiful as he made her feel.

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him gently. “You’ve given me what everyone else tried to take away, confidence in myself, in my own worth. You’ve made me feel beautiful, like a woman, like a human being equal to all other human beings. I’d think you were beautiful for far less than that.”

“You were already that and more.”

“But I never felt it before. Now I do. Now don’t talk. I want you to kiss me and kiss me until the world goes away.”

And it did. But just before it vanished, she wondered if Colonel Dean had ever kissed his wife the way Pete was kissing her. A giggle escaped her.

“I thought I was doing better than that.”

“You are,” Anne assured him. “I just wondered if Colonel Dean ever kissed his wife like this.”

That started them both laughing and rolling over with first one, then the other on top. Very quickly all thoughts of the Deans disappeared to be replaced by a keen awareness that their bodies were entwined like two vines, each trying to climb the other. Pete’s hands moved gently and inexorably down the length of her back, first massaging her shoulders, then the small of her back. When they moved to cup the swell of her buttocks, her body trembled, causing Pete’s swollen groin to settle more deeply between her legs.

The stroking of his fingers sent pleasant jolts radiating throughout her body. The churning fire in her belly seemed to draw additional heat from Pete’s body, gradually causing the focus of her sensations to shift center. It was an odd sensation, pleasurable yet making her uncomfortable, restless, unable to remain still.

Pete rolled over until she lay on her back.

She missed the feel of his body against her own, of his heat burning through their several layers of clothes. But the feel of his hand on her breast, moving across her abdomen, down her side, and along her thigh generated a whole new line of fires in her, fires so hot she thought she would burn up. She reached out to unbutton his shirt so she could touch his skin, but it was nearly impossible to think with his hand exploring parts of her body that hadn’t been seen or touched by anyone since she was old enough to bathe herself.

Yet as much as it unsettled her, it excited her, made her want to be closer to Pete, to become part of him. She pressed her body against him, kissing him with ardor and excitement. His explorations didn’t cease. With one hand he traced the shape and contour of her thigh from knee to hip, from side to front. With the other hand, he unbuttoned her dress down to the waist. The feel of his fingers moving against her belly made her squirm.

Pete sat up. “I’m going to take your shoes off.”

She felt bereft. The faint sensations coming from her feet couldn’t compare with having his body in her arms, his hands on her belly and thigh. But the heat index shot up when his hands moved under her dress to remove her stockings. When his fingers touched the heated, bare skin of her inner thigh, she thought she would rise up off the ground. The sensation was unique, intimate, incendiary. His fingers seemed to linger on her thigh, the back of her knee, her calf, her ankle as he slowly removed her stocking.

Then she had to go through it all again. When he finally removed the second stocking, she let her breath go in a huge
whoosh
that left her feeling exhausted. She wiggled her toes, and the sense of freedom invigorated her.

“Take off your boots,” she said. “I want to feel your toes.”

“I never heard of any woman wanting that,” Pete said as he quickly complied.

“I never heard of anything you’re doing to me, but I know I don’t want you to stop.”

Pete looked worried. “I ought not—”

She sat up, quickly cut off his words with her lips. Tonight we think of no one and nothing but ourselves. Tomorrow will come soon enough.” Not that she was afraid of tomorrow. She wanted lots more tomorrows to spend in Pete’s arms, lots more tomorrows to explore his body as he had explored hers. “Now unbutton your shirt. I want to touch your skin.”

Pete’s chest was bare, a wide expanse of soft skin spread over ribs she could count as her hand moved down his chest. She kissed his chest and felt the heat in his body nearly burn her lips.

“You’re hot,” she whispered.

“You’re about to make me burn up.”

She liked knowing she could do that to a man. She especially liked knowing she could do it to Pete. But she didn’t get much chance to enjoy her power. He buried his face between her breasts while his hands started to work her dress over her shoulders and down her waist. He didn’t have to ask her to lift her body so he could move the dress past her hips. Her body responded of its own will.

She expected the frostiness of the night air to penetrate her chemise and chill her body. Instead it felt delightfully cool against her skin. The heat coming from inside her was more than enough protection against the bite in the air.

Anne moaned softly as Pete’s hands lightly traced a path over the skin of her waist and her hips. The thin fabric of her chemise annoyed her. She wanted nothing between her skin and Pete’s touch. She had loved the feel of his hands and lips on her breasts. She longed for him to make love to the rest of her body as well. She twisted beneath him until she got the straps of her chemise off her shoulder and pushed it down to her waist. She lifted her body and Pete removed it entirely.

She lay before him, naked, vulnerable, ready.

“Take off your clothes,” she whispered. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

Anne didn’t know where she got the courage to do what she’d done, to say what she’d said. It seemed to happen all by itself, as though there were another person inside her, a person who knew what she was doing and what she wanted. Instinct told her she wanted to be able to touch Pete all over. She fervently hoped he would touch every part of her aching, yearning body. He had created a voracious appetite within her that had to be satisfied.

Pete stood to remove his clothes, and Anne marveled again that such a tall man could desire a small woman like herself. Her uncle had said she was only a dab of a woman, but Pete said she was more than enough woman for any man. Tonight he’d made her feel that way.

Until he removed the last of his clothes.

Then she wondered if she’d ever be enough woman for him. She’d never seen a naked man, never had any idea what happened when they were aroused, but she did know her body was supposed to encompass him. She didn’t know if she could. When Pete lay back down beside her, her apprehension increased. He slid his hands up and down her arms. She shivered with pleasure.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said.

“I’m not.” She wasn’t afraid he would hurt her. She was afraid she might disappoint him. He must have been with women who had lots of experience in pleasing a man. She didn’t know anything, and she desperately didn’t want to disappoint him. She wanted to be wonderful for him, so wonderful he’d forget all those other women. She wanted him to think womanhood began and ended with her.

Pete let his fingertips trail across her breasts, tease her nipples, massage her belly before moving across the line of her hip. She drew in her breath when his hand moved to the inside of her leg.

“Relax,” he said. “It won’t hurt.”

She didn’t think it would, but she couldn’t force her body to relax. The anticipation of what he would do next seemed neverending. He rubbed her belly again, and the churning sensation caused her to tremble from head to foot.

“Hold me,” she said, and rolled up against him, only to find his swollen groin pressed hard against her thigh. She tried to draw away, but his arms closed around her.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t” But now she wasn’t sure.

The spiral of excitement in her body and the all-consuming heat burned away any reluctance. Every feeling, every instinct, every primitive drive urged her toward him, toward a union she could sense would change her forever.

When his hand moved between them, she didn’t draw away. When she felt his fingers enter her, she gasped and stiffened. But she didn’t draw away. When he gently touched a nub that threatened to raise her body off the ground, she gasped and clenched her teeth. But she didn’t draw away.

She couldn’t. Her body craved more, urged her to impale herself on his hand, to force him deep inside her, where the throbbing need stayed just out of reach. She breathed in deep gasps as his expert touch sent her to even higher levels of ecstasy. Involuntary tremors and fire spread from her belly throughout her body, igniting every nerve, making each acutely sensitive to touch. Her desire for him overrode everything else as the dormant sexuality of her body awoke, shuddered to life for the first time.

Heat rippled under her skin. She couldn’t disguise her body’s reaction, didn’t want to. When his fingers continued to rub that tiny nub, that endless source of rapture, she couldn’t control her outcry of delight. She yielded to the searing need that had been building in her, and a moan of ecstasy slipped through her lips. Desire flooded her entire being. She felt as though she would lose touch with solid ground, with reality, with everything except the sensations that encircled her body like a silkworm’s soft, luxurious cocoon. Everything in her tightened, stretched, expanded, clamped down until she was certain she would be torn apart by the magnitude of the forces that had taken possession of her body.

She quivered uncontrollably, shaken to and fro by surges of passion; then everything flowed from her like water from a stream falling into the sea. She sighed with exhaustion, ready to sink back into Pete’s arms.

Then she felt him enter her. She felt herself stretching and stretching. Before she reached her limit, he withdrew, then slowly entered her again, farther this time. He repeated the process once more.

“This might hurt.”

Before she could tense, he drove deep inside her. A sharp pain cut through her haze of pleasure with the keenness of a knife but disappeared almost immediately, leaving her aware only of the weight of his body, of the fullness of having him inside her.

Exultation surged through her. Her body melted against his and her world was filled with him.

Within moments the crescendo began to build again within her. Her body felt as though it was half ice, half flame, as waves of ecstasy throbbed through her. She rose to meet him. Hungry desire spiraled through her, exciting already sensitive nerve endings to hypersensitivity. Once again she felt herself going out of control, out of contact with the corporeal world. She abandoned herself willingly, and an amazing sense of completeness filled her.

The feel of his skin against her, the sound of his rapid breathing, the musky smell of his passion-heated body served to lift her to levels of even more exquisite pleasure than before. Her body began to vibrate with liquid fire; a tremor inside her heated her thighs and groin as she felt herself soar toward a shuddering ecstasy. She felt passion rising in her like a hot fire, clouding her brain, rendering her incapable of doing anything beyond feeling. She abandoned herself to the whirl of sensations.

The waves of passion grew even more turbulent than before. Anne felt tossed about until she wanted to cry out for release. Electricity arced through her until she felt positive she glowed from incandescent heat.

“Please,” she murmured.

As before, the release came without warning, and she felt all the tension, the ache, the turbulence flow from her in a single rush. They fell apart. She was too exhausted to speak.

The waves of erotic sensation died away, leaving her tired but exhilarated with the knowledge that she and Pete were finally joined as man and woman, husband and wife. No matter what happened in the future, no one could take that away from her.

Mrs. Dean was waiting at the ranch when they returned. So was the sheriff.

“Thank heaven you’re back,” Mrs. Dean exclaimed as she enfolded Anne in an embrace which clearly closed Pete out. “I was certain you’d been kidnaped. I sent Ray for the sheriff immediately.”

“I left a note saying I was going to visit my husband at the roundup,” Anne said.

“I supposed that was a subterfuge to allay my fears until it was too late to retrieve you. Child, no respectable woman goes to the site of a roundup. There’s nothing but men there.”

Pete had waited until Eddie and the men started the herd toward the railhead. Eddie was going along to head up the drive. It would be several weeks before they returned. Pete expected to be gone before then. He hadn’t found his money, and he was beginning to suspect he never would. He was tempted to stay here long enough to wring it out of the ranch. It wouldn’t take long. Old Carl might even have enough money tucked away already, and Peter owed him something.