Montana Wildfire (43 page)

The memory of the two men outside her room came back to torture him. He wanted to touch her—everywhere, slowly—wanted to brand her with his possession until she finally realized what he was beginning to think he'd known all along: that she was
his.
Maybe not forever, but for here and now, for as long as he could make it last.
Again and again...

Amanda saw his gaze dip, tracing her lips, devouring their shell-pink softness. His gaze darkened to midnight gray, sparked with undeniable desire. Her fingers trembled. Her blood heated, tingling with sweet promise as it surged through her veins.

She saw the muscle in his cheek jerk and knew that he was fighting the attraction, fighting the overwhelming passion that even the most accidental touch between them caused to burn out of control. She could have told him not to bother, not to waste his time and energy fighting the inevitable. In the end, with them, desire always proved stronger than good sense.

His hair fell forward on his shoulders as he angled his head to the side. His mouth lowered, dipping in a path aimed for complete possession. He stopped midway, his hungry gaze still riveted to her mouth. "I don't want this," he said, his voice low and husky.

Tortured. "I don't
want
to want you. Not this badly. Not at all."

"But you do," she whispered, and closed the distance between his chest and hers. She'd forgotten how hard he was, forgotten how perfectly her soft curves nestled into his rigid planes. "You want me, Jake. You can't deny it."

He sighed raggedly, his liquor-scented breath blasting over her, heating her skin. "I can try."

"You'll fail." She went up on tiptoe, circling her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Then closer still. Her next words were whispered against his mouth. "Love me, Jake. Just for a little while, just for tonight, love me. Please."

She stretched, and sealed their mouths together.

Jake hesitated for only a heartbeat. And then his arms were around her waist and he was hauling her so close he thought it was a miracle that the soft promise of her body didn't melt right into him. Dammit, she was right. He couldn't fight this. He wasn't strong enough. Her flowery smell made his blood run hot. The touch of her body molding into his sent a bolt of desire sizzling through him. The second her lips touched his he was lost.

He kissed her ravenously, as though he couldn't taste enough of her. His hands scoured her back, her arms, her waist and bottom. That he should be tired of bedding this woman by now, that he should have by all rights worked her out of his system days ago, occurred to him only briefly. He wasn't tired of her. Not by a long shot. If anything, his appetite had been whetted, and now he was starved for her. His palms ached to feel her creamy white flesh. His tongue thirsted to taste parts of her that no man had ever tasted before. And that no man besides him ever would!

His woman. His woman!

Yes, when he held her like this, when she kissed him like this and moved her body so sweetly against him, Jake could almost believe that she was his. In her arms his life started and stopped. In her kisses there were no yesterday, no tomorrow, no pain or regret. There was only here and now. There was only desire—hot and raw and consuming—unlike anything he'd ever known in his life.

"You're mine," he growled against her kiss-swollen lips, as he bent and scooped her into his arms. He crossed to the bed, and laid her out atop the threadbare blankets. His hands shook with a deep longing that was almost incomprehensible as, one by one he peeled her buttons free.

In record time, he had them both naked.

Amanda's white skin glistened in the flickering lamplight. Jake's glowed a deep shade of sun-kissed copper. In his present mood, he thought the colors complimented each other perfectly.

His hands roamed her body, touching, igniting passion, making her groan his name aloud. But it wasn't enough. Touching her was never enough any more. He needed more, needed everything, and he needed it now. Fast and hard.

"Mine," he said as he spread himself out atop her. He buried his face in her neck, and his tongue tasted the sweet cream flavor of her throat, pressed against her thundering pulse. His left hand found her breast. Her nipple was already rigid; he teased it to an even more alert, more sensitive peak.

Then his hand drifted down, and he found the moist, burning heat of her. He fondled and stroked until she begged him to stop, begged him to fill her. Until his own body humbled itself and did a little begging of its own.

"Jake. Ah, Jake..." She arched beneath him, straining against him, filling his hand, filling his heart.

She was hot and moist and tight. She was ready for him. It took the very last of Jake's self-control to lift himself above her and not plunge into her the way he wanted so badly to do. He supported his weight on the elbows flanking her sides. His hips found the spot nature had carved just for him between her legs. He cupped her cheeks in his palms while his mouth hungered for another taste of her honey-sweet lips.

Gritting his teeth, and holding himself absolutely still, Jake perched on the very threshold of her. "Mine, Amanda Lennox, You are
mine."

"Yes," she panted. "I'm yours. Now, Jake.
Now.
"

His control splintered. He growled, thrust, and buried himself deeply inside of her.

He wasn't going to last. The second he felt her warm and tight and hot around him, Jake knew he wasn't going to last. And he didn't care. It had been so long!

Amanda moaned low and deep, and arched to accept him. All of him. She moved in time to his beat, glorying in the violent tremors that came upon her almost instantaneously with his entry.

Fast, fast, the spasms of completion shook her and carried Jake right along in her wake.

"My woman,
my
woman," Jake murmured, the words timed to coincide with each piercing thrust and retreat. He couldn't hold back. She felt too damn good. And then she started to shudder around him, and he was thankful he didn't have to wait, because he couldn't. Not a second longer. "Mine," he gritted as he lost control, and toppled over the edge.

His climax was long and deep, and more intense than anything he'd ever felt before. This time when it came, he poured more than his hot, liquid fire into her; he filled Amanda Lennox with his heart and soul. His very life.

Jake collapsed atop her, sweaty and spent. Deep down he knew that without this woman—
his
woman—he would never be whole again.

The lamp had been extinguished.

Amanda awoke to a room flooded with pale moonlight. She scowled sleepily, her thoughts disoriented as her gaze swept her surroundings. Where was she? And who...?

Junction City. She was in a rented hotel room in a mining town called Junction—wherever that was... Idaho, still?

And she was with Jake Chandler. Ah, yes... Jake.

His solid weight, not the least bit burdensome, pinned her to the narrow, lumpy mattress. His face was against her neck, and she felt the warmth of his breath puff over her in steady waves. The upper part of his body rested mostly atop the bed, to keep from crushing her, but from the stomach down he blanketed her. His left hand rested loosely atop her right breast, as though even in sleep he was seeking to brand her with his touch.

The outside of his thighs felt warm and appealingly hard where they were nestled between the inside of hers. The muscles in his back quivered beneath the fingertips she only now realized she'd been stroking down his spine. She scanned the breadth of his shoulder with her palm, then tunneled her fingers into his sleek black hair.

Amanda sighed and closed her eyes. Nothing in her life had felt as good as waking up enfolded in Jake Chandler's arms. She was sure nothing would ever feel this good again.

Jake mumbled something in his sleep, and shifted. He nuzzled her neck, while at the same time the part of him that was still buried inside of her quickened.

Amanda tensed at the hot spark of pleasure that shot through her. Her instinctive reaction caressed him, causing him to harden still more.

She knew the exact second Jake woke up, was aware of the instant his eyes flickered open. She felt the bat of his dark lashes against her earlobe. His tongue and teeth played on the sensitive underside of her jaw. The fingers caressing her breasts flexed, then curled possessively inward. His thumbnail flicked her nipple, and she marveled at how, with just one pass, the rosy bead pearled. For him. Only for him did her body react this way. Only for him did her senses spin out of control with one glance, one touch.

She fisted his long, silky hair and guided his head down to where she wanted—needed—to feel the heat of his mouth. Her body was hungry for the feel of him. Like the last time, her need was building, quick and urgent. She wanted to feel his hands on her. His mouth. She wanted him to fill her, wanted him to make her soar again. Now. Before it was too late.

They would reach Pony soon. He hadn't said it, but she knew. In a few days they would find Roger. In a few days Jake would be out of her life. He'd said he wanted to be rid of her, and that time was coming quickly. Soon, the only time she would see his face, feel his body, would be in dreams and in her preciously preserved memories.

It was those memories Amanda intended to carve for herself tonight. With Jake. She wanted something wild, something delicious. She needed for him to give her a memory that would burn inside her heart, something that would help ease her through the lifetime of cold, lonely nights ahead.

Arching her back, she invited him to taste her. She groaned when he suckled her nipple into the warm, moist heat of his mouth. His teeth nipped, his tongue teased and tormented. She shivered and cried out. She wasn't sure, but she thought she felt a reciprocal tremor shudder through him.

Again and again...

"I have to," he murmured against her. His hot breath blasted over her even hotter flesh, making her tingle and tremble in turn. "I have to have you again, princess. Now. I... ah, God, just one more time."

Jake buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply of her sweet, sweet scent as his body moved inside her.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he matched his beat to the rhythm her body set. Home, Jake thought. The way her body gloved his, warm and moist and welcoming, felt like home.

With the first taking, desperation had ridden him hard. It had been so long since he'd had her that he couldn't have gone slow if he'd wanted to. This time, he promised himself... this time will be different. They had all night. This time he would take her slow and easy. He'd set the spark inside of her, then make it burn until she was begging him to douse the flames. He would...

It took less than five minutes for all of Jake's promises and good intentions to go straight out the window. He was wrong. Nothing was different this time. She felt just as good. No, she felt
better.

It shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't want her again; not so quickly, not so badly. But he did. The hard edge of desire may have been smoothed over with one taking, but in seconds the ache inside of him began building anew. The warm, tight heat of her milked his need, honed his desperation to a sharp edge. With every thrust, every acceptance, his hunger for her intensified, until his need for Amanda—and
only
Amanda—felt like it was slicing right into the very core of his soul and cutting him to pieces.

Their lovemaking was fast and hard and urgent. Ragged breath mingled. Racing hearts clattered in time to each other. Tongues mated and warred. Hands roved, the strokes quick and hot and demanding.

Their loving was bittersweet, edged with desperation. With hands and mouths each strove to commit the other's body to memory, desperate to touch and be touched—everywhere, quickly—while there was still time.

In minutes they drove each other over the brink. When the climax came, it was welcomed, celebrated. Fulfillment crashed over them like a tidal wave, dragging them under as one, deeper and deeper into the violent, shuddering undertow.

Their mouths fused together, even as their bodies strained in the last tremors of release. The kiss was long and desperate and deep, their lips sealing the words a dizzying sea of passion would have wrung from their hearts.

"My woman," Jake murmured. Though his passion was momentarily spent, he felt no urge to ease the intimacy of their embrace. It felt comfortable to be a part of her like this. It felt good and right and perfect. For the first time in his life, Jacob Blackhawk Chandler felt contented and complete.

"My woman," he whispered into her soft, flowery-smelling hair, His eyes flickered shut, and he unconsciously timed his breathing to match Amanda's.

A floorboard creaked as Jake moved from one side of the hotel room to the other. The noise was unaccountably loud and grating. He froze, his attention snapping to the woman huddled beneath the faded blankets. Had he woken her? Jesus, he hoped not.

Amanda was lying on her side, facing away from him. Her shoulders gently rose and fell, her shallow breaths whispered in his ears. At this angle he could see her profile. The whiteness of her skin was enhanced by the early morning light filtering in through the window. Her hair was unbound, scattering over the pillow and sheet. Each thick gold curl glistened like shimmering silk in the muted sunlight. She sighed. Her honey-tipped lashes fluttered a split second before she turned onto her back.