And if she did go to him, would she then spend the rest of her life regretting it? Would she forever compare every other man to Colt? She retreated from the window with a sigh. She would compare every man to Colt, regardless of what happened between them. Whether or not Colt stayed, there would never be any other man for her.
He wasn’t a gunfighter. He was a thief, because he had stolen her heart. She turned and walked quietly from Jenny’s small room.
Her steps carried her to the closed door of his bedroom. She knocked lightly and without waiting for a response, pushed the door open.
A single lamp danced with the breeze stealing in the window, bathing Colt in the dim, flickering yellow light. He stilled, his fingers on a button of his black shirt. The shirttail had been pulled from the waist of his trousers. Amelia closed the distance between them. “I don’t want anything more than right now, Colt,” she said.
“Amy, don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to me. I can’t turn you down because I’m not that noble or that strong.” His voice sounded pained. “My God, Amy, do you know…”
She pressed her fingers over his lips. “I don’t want anything more than this. I’m not asking you to stay, I’m not asking for anything from you but this moment.” She lowered her hand to his shirt and opened the front, button by button.
His quickening breathing with each parted button stoked the fire burning in her, until it blazed as an inferno. When she had opened the shirtfront, she stood on tiptoe and pressed herself to his chest and reached behind his neck to untie the sling. Colt groaned and he trembled. “God, Amy…”
The ragged timbre in his voice told her the effect her actions were having. It was like throwing lamp oil onto a raging forest fire. She slipped her palms under the soft-spun cotton, and ran her hands over the muscled contours of his chest and up to his shoulders. She forced herself to slow when her fingers brushed the heavy bandage on his left shoulder.
The shirt slipped from his shoulders, and fell to the floor with a nearly silent rustle of cotton. “Now your boots,” she murmured, pushing him back to the bed.
He collapsed onto the thick feather mattress, falling onto his back. Amelia turned, and straddled one leg and then the other to pull his boots off. She dropped the last one to the floor and straightened.
Colt sat up and held his hand up to her. Amelia took it, and gasped when he pulled her onto the mattress with him. He fell back onto the mattress, rolling onto his uninjured shoulder, his face inches from hers. He lifted his left arm and winced.
“Colt?”
“It doesn’t hurt very much anymore.” He stroked her cheek, pushing the loose hair from her face. “My God, Amy, you are beautiful.” He caught the ribbon lacing her night rail and pulled the bow. He slowly unlaced the garment, his eyes molten silver. He paused, the ribbon only halfway pulled loose.
His gaze dipped to the partially opened neckline. Amelia’s breath caught and quickened when he trailed his fingertips over the swell of her breasts. His breath escaped him on a long, slow sigh. He bent his head to her throat.
Amelia gasped. She shifted on the mattress as he trailed a burning path along her collarbone, and nuzzled her nightgown off her shoulder. He pulled the ribbon loose, opening the night rail to her waist. She slid her hand across his back and muscles rippled and flowed under her palm.
Colt lifted his head and took possession of her mouth. He pushed the nightgown further off her shoulders and then dragged his palm over her until he cupped a breast in his hand. The pad of his thumb brushed over her nipple and Amelia arched her back, pushing into his palm.
She was fire and yet everywhere he touched her, he branded her.
He ceased his tender torment of her breast and slipped his arm around her back. The feel of his hard chest crushed against her breasts sent another jolt through her. The tight curls on his chest grated deliciously against her skin. She pushed her hand through his hair, and clutched a fistful of that thick, silver-shot black.
Colt rolled onto his back, never breaking the contact of his mouth on hers, his arm holding her to his chest. Amelia shivered with the cool breeze through the window when he dragged her night rail down her back and she slipped her arms from the sleeves.
His hand roved down her back, cupping her bottom and pressing her to him. Amelia whimpered, the ache in her core growing. She dragged her palms up his sides. He was all hard muscle and sinew.
Colt tugged and pulled her night rail down further, moving only slightly away to tug the material past her hips. He pulled his head back, breathing heavily. His gaze slowly slid down her.
His expression blanketed Amelia in warmth. Awed reverence. They were the only words she could find to describe the way he looked at her.
He slipped her night rail the rest of the way from her. “My God,” he breathed. “Tell me this isn’t a dream.”
“It’s not.”
Colt slid his palm along her arm, rounded her shoulder and cupped her chin. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “Oh, God, Amy…”
Further emboldened, Amelia ducked her head, pressing her mouth to the base of his throat, and trailed her fingertips down his chest. He flinched when her light, roving touch crept down his flat stomach and his breathing grew ragged.
Amelia pushed herself back. She tugged at the top button of his denims. Colt sucked in his breath in a hissing sound. His hands closed around her waist, and then dragged up to her breasts. He cupped her, thumbs encircling her nipples. She parted another button with trembling fingers.
He pushed her into the mattress, and his tongue flicked against her throat, his teeth grazed and nipped her collarbone. Amelia struggled to keep her mind on the simple task of opening a button.
Another button opened.
She gasped as his hot mouth slid down her breast. The jolt searing through her when his mouth fastened on her nipple made her arch up to his mouth. His tongue lashed at her, teasing until she nearly sobbed.
Another button separated. Colt caught her hand in his and guided her to the waistband of the trousers. He slid her hand under the waist and pushed the material from his hips.
His hands seemed to be everywhere, caressing her breasts, cupping her bottom, skimming over her stomach. Instinctively, she writhed and arched up to him, but his hand dipped no lower.
He returned to her mouth, his tongue again invading and retreating. His hand skimmed down her stomach, and his fingertips brushed through the thick curls hiding her womanhood. Her sobbing, wordless plea was lost under his mouth. Helpless, she arched to his hand.
His fingers slipped lower, and found her opening. She pushed up into his palm, desperate to find release from the pounding ache coiling into her.
“Easy, Amy. We’ve got the whole night.”
He parted her, stroked her, his fingertips flirting with her, tormenting. Amelia couldn’t think anymore. All she could do was feel. Sensations washed over. His mouth hot against her throat, his teeth nipping her chin, his hand sliding over her breast, his fingers caressing and stroking the sensitive flesh at the entrance to her. She tossed her head from side to side, his name a litany. His thumb encircled the small nub, and his fingers stroked her, never entering her, until she was quaking and crying with need.
He shifted slightly on the mattress, pressing the length of his member against her hip. She turned, needing to touch him as he touched her. She cupped the weight of him in her hand. A part of her registered that she had found something of him not muscled.
Colt stilled when she curled her fingers around the length of him. “God, don’t, Amy.”
Startled, she pulled her hand back, and stared up into his face. The heat in his eyes and the raw need on his face seared her.
“Don’t. If all we’ve got is right now, tonight, then by God, I want the whole night.” His voice was ragged. “I want the whole damn night.”
She trailed her fingers up his length, and reveled in the full-bodied tremor that raced over him.
His fingers slipped along her slick entrance again. “I want the whole night to touch you, to make you burn. I want the whole night to feel you, and to make you wet.” His tongue flicked her breast. “To hear you crying my name.” His finger slid fractionally into her. “To make you feel like this.”
Amelia’s arms encircled him. She pressed her head back into the mattress and arched into his questing finger.
He withdrew, and then, slowly, slid his finger further into her. He retreated again, and then with the same maddening deliberation returned. Amelia clung to him, capable only of experiencing the new, overwhelming sensations.
His actions pushed her to the brink of some wide chasm and when she tumbled over the edge, she knew she had shattered into hundreds of glittering, shimmering pieces. Colt lay next to her. Slowly and with a touch no heavier than a down feather, he trailed his fingertips along her flinching stomach, and traced circles on her breasts.
She entwined her fingers with his, and ran her other hand over his broad, firm chest. She brushed her thumb over the small nipples hidden within the thick, black curls. She smiled when he responded. Would he gasp for air, as she had, if she pressed her mouth to him, and encircled that small nipple with her tongue?
Amelia pressed her mouth to him, flicking him with the tip of tongue. A hissing breath escaped him and another tremor rippled across him. She trailed her mouth to the hollow of his throat. His pulse raced frantically under her lips.
She traced the curve of his ribs, marveling at the muscling of his flat stomach. The back of her hand brushed against the swollen, heated length of him. Colt caught his breath. With the same light touch, she trailed her fingers down his member. He bucked into her fingers, a choked groan breaking from him.
Another smile curved her mouth. Colt caught her in his arms, and pulled her level with his face.
“Amy, look at me.”
“I am,” she whispered, her gaze moving down the length of his body. “You’re…you’re beautiful.”
His eyes shut for a moment, but his face was lined with awe. His eyes snapped open, and the heat in those gray depths seared her. “Amy, we don’t have to do anything but what we’re doing. I won’t leave you empty, but, you’re…” He shook his head. “Damn it, Amy, you’ve never been with a man. You’re still a virgin. We can do what we’re doing, and when morning comes, you’ll still be a virgin.”
“If you want the whole night, I want more than just this.”
“Oh, God…” He groaned. “Do you know what you’re offering me?”
She nodded. “All of me, my heart and my soul.”
He crushed her to his chest, her face pressed into his shoulder. His fingers pegged her bottom, dragging her against him. His length pressed against her stomach, hot and throbbing. He parted their bodies, and returned to his exploration of her.
When Amelia was certain she was going to lose her mind with his torment, he rolled her onto her back and rose over her. The end of his manhood pressed at the opening to her innermost region. There was a bright flare of pain when her maidenhead gave way. Amelia sucked her breath in as she felt herself stretching to accommodate all of him.
Colt’s expression twisted and he was perfectly still in her. “I’m sorry,” he grated out. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
The pain had already receded, replaced with a new aching need. Amelia lifted her hips to him. He groaned again and then began to move in her. His hands lifted her to meet him.
Amelia clung to his back, her nails digging into him. Every thrust of his body into hers stoked the need building in her. When her release came, she tightened convulsively around him and a moment later, felt Colt spilling in her.
Breathing heavily, he collapsed on her. The weight of his body was comfortable, secure. She pressed her lips to his neck, tasting him, and smoothed her hands down his sweat-slicked back.
Colt slid off her, and collapsed onto his back. He gently gathered her into his arms, with her head on his chest. His heart thundered in her ear.
Feeling braver than ever in her life, Amelia slid her hand down his body, and stroked him. It was an erotic, intoxicating sensation, his velvety soft skin slick with the mingling of her moisture and his release. He began to stir under her ministrations. She murmured, “It’s not morning yet.”
Colt’s deep laugh echoed in her. “You are a wanton, do you know that? At least let me catch my breath.”
****
It wasn’t quite dawn when a fierce pounding on the door jolted Amelia from Colt’s arms. She fumbled in the darkness for her dressing gown and dragged it on. She scooped the blanket from the bed, wrapped it around herself, and padded to the kitchen door.
She paused long enough to strike a match and light a lantern. She lifted the wooden bar from the door and opened it. Joshua Taylor, the fifteen-year-old son of Rachel and Harrison, stood on the small porch. “Amy, Pa said you told him he couldn’t come out here again, so he sent me. There’s some kind of trouble in town.”
She shivered. Without being told, she knew it had to involve Colt.
“What kind of trouble?” Colt asked from behind her. Amelia sank back against the width of his chest, grateful for the strength in the arm he coiled around her waist. She lowered the lantern onto a hook next to the door.
“Silas Kirk sent one of his girls out to the ranch. He said to tell you there’s some man in the Thirsty Dog Saloon been bragging all night about how he’s going to kill you.”
Amelia’s hands flew to her throat. “Josh, why hasn’t your father arrested him?”
“Ain’t no law against bragging, Amy,” Colt said. He released his light hold of Amelia’s waist and stepped back. “Tell your father I’ll be into town shortly.”
“Yes, sir.” Josh stared wide-eyed at Colt. “He figured you would, so he’s waiting for you. Said he’d be at the livery, most likely.”
Josh paused on the top step of the small porch. The admiration in his expression reminded Amelia of the way Saul looked when he first thought Colt was a notorious shootist. “Mr. Evans, he also said to be careful.” The boy sprinted down the steps, mounted his father’s large black gelding, and rode into the night.