Читать книгу Ace's Wild - Sarah McCarty - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

HE WAS TOO old and too experienced to shudder at the touch of a woman’s hand, any woman’s hand, but when Petunia’s settled as light as thistledown against his chest, Ace did just that. Desire started deep in his gut and climbed upward right along with her fingers, rolling like thunder through his resistance, making a mockery of the dare he’d laid before them. This wasn’t a game. This was real. And he didn’t want it. Not the desire. Not the weakness. Not her.

But it didn’t matter what he didn’t want as her skirts swished about his ankles, and her weight leaned against him in sweet enticement. He wanted her, had since the first moment he’d seen her step off the stagecoach two months ago, self-contained, graceful, elegant. A lady. The one thing he could never have.

“You’re going to have to bend down.”

The soft whisper joined the thunder, adding to the volume. Her hands slid up his chest, tucking behind his neck. Lightning flashed on the edges of his control. She tugged. He didn’t go. That wasn’t who he was, how he’d allow it to be between them.

Sliding his hand down the delicate line of her back, he demanded, “Why?”

He wanted it put into words, to hear it from her lips. She blinked up at him, confusion and desire deepening the blue of her eyes. “For that kiss you wanted.”

Who did she think she was kidding? This wasn’t about any goddamn deal. This was about the attraction that neither of them wanted. This was about them. As natural as his next breath one hand settled into the hollow of her back. The other, her shoulder. She was tall. She fit his embrace as if she were made for it. Fit his hands as if she were made for them. His voice rasped from his throat, more growl than seduction. “Ask me nicely.”

He felt the tremor that shook her head to toe, but it wasn’t fear that had her pupils dilating and her tongue sliding over her lower lip in soft pink enticement. His cock thickened painfully within the restriction of his pants.

“Please...” She cleared her throat. He adjusted his stance. “Please, lean down.”

Knives couldn’t cut more cleanly than that simple compliance. The barrier he kept between them tore free in the aftermath. His fingers slipped down her arm, chaining the delicacy of her wrist between his fingers while he urged her closer. The soft plea whispered like a siren’s song in his head, bringing forth the side of him he kept hidden. She watched him carefully as he brought her hand down between them. He liked her eyes on him. Her world narrowed to him. Her other hand naturally followed the first.

“That’s it,” he whispered as her fingers spread over his heart. “Feel me. Feel what I want.”

“A kiss.”

“Yes.” Yes, he wanted a kiss. A kiss was a beginning to so much more.

A kiss could be everything. He leaned down, but not so far she didn’t have to stretch that delectable body up the length of his. Her hands against his chest kept him from feeling the fullness of her breasts, but he could imagine how they’d feel in his hands, hard-tipped and delicate just like her. Her hand slipped down into his. Curling his fingers around hers, he pressed it to his chest, struggling with the want to press her closer, the utter need to drag her hands overhead, to pin her with his hands and body, to kiss her until the walls she’d built so well came tumbling down, and there was just him and her and the truth between them. Until she gave him what he needed.

Surrender.

Ace gritted his teeth, loosening his grip, controlling the wild impulse, forcing himself back to even breaths, to what was.

Pet was a good woman, not a whore. She was going to kiss him to pay a debt that wasn’t even hers because she thought it was the only way to save a boy. Fuck. He was a bastard. He took a step back. She went with him, following as naturally as he could desire. His good intentions took a hit. Before he could regroup, her lips touched his, and that fast, all thoughts of right or wrong drowned under a wave of lust so strong, it stole his breath. Her lips parted, catching it, linking them in a moment fraught with danger. With promise.

Why? he asked silently. Why this woman? Why now?

The answer came in her soft moan as her lips nibbled at his. Because she wanted him. And lust didn’t need any more explanation than the proximity of two compatible bodies. Or so he told himself as her lips moved gently against his, untutored but determined, always so determined, this woman. Tilting her lance against the windmills, needing to make a difference, too naive to realize that no matter what she did, nothing ever really changed. Except this. This kiss changed everything. And she didn’t even know what she was inviting.

It was a fleeting pressure, surprisingly soft, surprisingly sweet. A kiss just like he’d asked for. But not what he wanted. And damn, if this was all he was ever going to have, he was going to have it the way he wanted. Cupping Pet’s skull in his hand, Ace forestalled her escape with the slight pressure of his fingers against the back of her neck. He expected struggle, but she didn’t move, just stood there looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were heavy lidded and ripe with the question within. The perfect picture of a woman enthralled. Everything inside him perked. It was a struggle to find his voice.

“The deal was a real kiss, a kiss like you meant it.”

She blinked. “That’s how I kiss when I mean it.”

She couldn’t be that green. Not at her age with her bold manner. “No one kisses like that when they mean it.”

She blinked at him again, and he realized that maybe she really was that naive. Maybe that pressure-on-pressure kiss was, to her, boldness itself. If that was the case, it was a damn shame. Pet was a woman of passion, and no woman of passion should go through life thinking that casual contact constituted lust, certainly not any woman that kissed him. If Pet was going to walk away from him today and tell someone tomorrow that she got Ace Parker to do what she wanted by kissing him, it was going to be a goddamn kiss that both of them remembered fondly.

“I’ve seen your serious, my Pet, and that wasn’t it.”

“My name is Petunia.”

How the hell she managed to stick that aristocratic nose in the air while in his embrace, he had no idea, but she managed it. It ticked him off more than her My name is Peturnia, and to you, Miss Wayfield amused him.

“I prefer Pet.”

Licking her lips, she stepped to the side, away from the wall. “You make me sound like a dog.”

“Oh, you’re much more valuable than a dog.”

Her “Gee, thanks” made him smile. As did the little wiggle she did for freedom. He let her smooth her skirts and tug on that tight jacket that made the most of her curves before spreading his fingers across her nape and tickling the sensitive skin. She shivered. He did it again. No shiver this time, but the sharp intake of breath was even more satisfying. It said she was still aware of him.

He took a step forward, and she took a step back in a now-familiar dance. He turned slightly, angling in with his body so that the wall was behind her again. The image of her standing there, arms pinned above her head, helpless in his arms while he ravished her mouth, wouldn’t leave his mind.

Once again her hand pressed against his chest. But this time in denial. Raising an eyebrow at her, he pointed out the obvious.

“If you want me to give up my winnings to a man who doesn’t deserve it, I’m going to want more than that quick peck.”

“You’re not giving it up for a man. You’re giving it up for a boy.”

“It’s a hell of a lot of money. You’re a fool if you think I’m giving it back for a kiss my grandmother might give me.”

Her nails bit slightly through the fabric of his shirt in irritation. His cock throbbed. He wanted her.

“I’m not a fool,” she growled.

No, she wasn’t. She was just doing what she could because she didn’t think anybody else cared, and maybe they didn’t. It was easy to forget about the people that lived on the edge, he knew. He’d been forgotten about most of his life. But the one thing good about living on edges is that it made a body tough.

“Did you ever think that growing up as he is might work for Terrance as an adult?”

The shake of her head was immediate. “He’s a scholar not a fighter.”

“You said he was eight.”

“Some things you can just tell.”

Ace sighed. “And you want to save him.”

She didn’t even try to deny it. “He’s a bright child, too bright for such a future.”

A do-gooder to the core. “You can’t control everything.”

“No, but I can give him this chance.”

He backed her up another step, controlling her movement with his body and his fingers on the back of her neck. And she went, as soft and as sweet as if she knew what he needed. He tucked the information away, even though he knew he shouldn’t. This was one woman with whom he couldn’t play his games, a good woman. Too good for him, which was why he had no business taking that last step that brought her back up against the wall. But he took it anyway.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled at the question. “Taking my kiss.”

When she opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to say it.”

“You don’t even know what it is!”

He liked the fire indignation put in her eyes. He liked to bring the fire out in her. Liked to know he could make her burn when others only left her cold.

Pressing his lips against her forehead, he said quietly, “I know. Now, come here.”

She did. Spreading his legs so she was trapped between them, he leaned down until his chest pressed against hers, and he could feel the tips of her breasts poking into his shirt. Those nipples could have been hard because the air was cooling, or they could be hard because she found him as attractive as he found her. Ace leaned in a little farther, testing his resolve, teasing his desire. She didn’t back up, couldn’t back up, and that only tempted him more. She was imprisoned between his body and the wall, helpless, and that little catch in her breath as he bent his head, his shadow blocking the sun from her eyes, just brought all of his lust to the fore. His cock hardened to the point of pain; his heart picked up its beat.

When his mouth was a hair’s breadth from hers, he murmured, “This time kiss me like you know what you’re doing.”

He wasn’t at all surprised with the immediate “I know how to kiss.” His Pet was a fighter. Smiling into her eyes, he gave her something to hold on to.

“Prove it.”

* * *

DEAR HEAVENS, HE wanted her to prove it. Staring up into Ace’s light blue eyes, searching for sanity, Petunia only found more temptation than an on-the-shelf woman should be forced to confront. Honest to goodness curl-her-toes and burn-her-reputation-in-perdition temptation. And it was harder to resist than any sermon preached. Because it felt so good. Surrounded by Ace’s arms, his scent, his heat, she found it amazingly easy to imagine succumbing to her baser instincts, to wallow in the sheer pleasure of his weight against her, to tempt him the way Eve had tempted Adam. Except she wanted to offer Ace so much more than an apple. And she wanted him to take it. All of it. Everything she could give. The fact that he would wasn’t the scary thing it should have been.

She was sure she wasn’t the first woman that Ace had wanted. His conquests littered the town. But he might just be the only man who’d ever truly wanted her. Not to prove a point. Not to gain access to her family’s power or money, but because she was a woman he found attractive. Her fingers curled into his chest. The immediate hitch in his breathing padded her confidence. Inside, she started smiling. He really did want her.

Prove it.

For the skip of a heartbeat, she didn’t know if she could. She was a spinster. A suffragette. A scholar. What did she know of kissing the socks off a man? As if sensing her panic—which was silly since she hadn’t given any outward sign of her distress—Ace nudged her thigh with his knee.

“Want me to bend down?”

His voice, deeper than normal, rasped like velvet over her senses. And she wanted more. Tempting Ace Parker was madness, it was foolishness, it was reckless, but she’d already given herself an excuse. She’d made a deal, and no Wayfield ever reneged on a deal. And all she had to do to hold up her end was to kiss him like she meant it, and suddenly that didn’t seem so very hard. There was so much she could imagine doing with this man. He might be a reprobate, he might be a gambler, but he was the only man in her recollection who could make her feel like a schoolgirl and forget her morally correct upbringing. He was, quite frankly, her one chance to feel what other women felt so easily. To give what other women found so easy to give. To be who she always thought she could be.

That did not mean, however, that she was ready to just roll over. When he tried to pull closer, she shook her head. She shouldn’t have found the cock of his eyebrow endearing, but she did.

“What?”

“We had a deal. This is my kiss.”

His fingers relaxed infinitesimally on her neck. Highlighting just how subtle his control had been. “So it is.”

She fitted her mouth to his, rubbing gently until she found that perfect spot that sent tingles shooting inward, wishing she knew more than she did, wanting to make this a kiss he remembered, wanting against reason to be memorable.

Again that soothing touch on her neck. His mouth opened against hers, guiding her, she realized.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Ace took her gratitude and upped it with the lightest touch of his tongue. Those tingles burst into streaks of lightning. She returned the caress, and he moaned. She did it again, and again, experimenting with going deeper, wider, turning her head so her tongue could touch his. It wasn’t enough.

“More,” he whispered, slipping his thigh between hers.

Yes, she wanted more. She’d noticed Ace the first day she’d walked into town, and he’d made sure she could never give up that infatuation, teasing and taunting her, irritating her with his very existence. And now it was her turn to tease him. His lips were full, fuller than she expected, softer than she expected but so good. Giving in to the wildness throbbing inside, she nibbled and bit at his mouth, demanding something he needed to give.

He groaned deep in his throat. She stood higher on her toes, pulling him down, dragging herself up, rubbing her breasts against his chest, trying to get closer, but she couldn’t. There was no way she could get close enough. The kiss was good, but it wasn’t good enough, and she didn’t know what to do. She dug her nails into the back of his neck in silent demand. Again she got that look that asked for the words. She blushed at the thought. But what choice did she have? This was her one chance, and she wasn’t done with it yet.

She had to struggle to find her voice and when she did, it was a breathy thread of sound that took the command out of her order. “Fix it.”

He didn’t seem to have the same trouble. His voice was deep and even and seductive in its calm. “You know our deal.”

This time it was her turn to growl but not with passion. “Not that.” Nipping his lip, she snapped, “This.”

Catching her chin in his hand, he held her still, his mouth just inches from hers. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away. God, she wanted him.

“Do you want my mouth, Pet?”

She nodded.

With a little jiggle of her chin, he snapped her gaze to his. “Not good enough. Do you want my mouth?”

Why did he have to be so demanding?

She nodded again, hoping it would suffice, not willing to give him everything, not understanding how he could resist the fire she could feel burning just beyond her reach. She could only imagine how good it would feel while he had to know.

His fingers rubbed against her nape; his thumb crept over her cheek, catching the corner of her mouth, pressing gently, forcing her lips to part naturally around it. She touched it with her tongue. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t give ground.

“If you want it, my Pet, you’re going to have to ask for it.”

“Kiss me.”

She’d thought he’d kiss her then, but though his eyes narrowed, all he did was hold her still and give another order, “Ask nicely.”

She wanted to stomp his toe. “Just kiss me.”

A tap on her cheek made her look up again. There was desire in the hard lines of his face and the softness of his mouth, but in his eyes...in his eyes was the will of a man who expected to be obeyed. A shiver she didn’t understand went down her spine. Between her legs, moisture gathered.

“Say it right,” he ordered.

He wanted her to beg. She wasn’t a begging woman, but the word slipped past her control, filling the silence between them with an import she didn’t understand. “Please.”

It was enough. With a curse that sounded like the sweetest music to her impatient ear, he stepped in, his hands sliding down her back, pulling her into his body, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, breast to chest, mouth-to-mouth. Oh, God, mouth-to-mouth. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer still. Another growl, and his mouth smoothed across hers. Against her groin, his erection pressed. Thick, hard and foreign. A shock at first followed by a soothing burst of pleasure. She had the urge to spread her thighs, to grind against him, but she couldn’t move, and even that was good. So good, and she was so hungry. The hot, wet touch of his tongue along the seam of her lips had her jumping again.

“Open.”

This order growled against her mouth didn’t annoy her at all. She opened, willingly, eagerly, joyfully, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears, it blocked out the world, and there was only him. Ace took advantage of her surrender, full, wonderful, glorious advantage, claiming her mouth in a single thrust of his tongue. She opened wider; he teased further. His breath became hers; his moan hers and hers his, she realized. It was a blending; it was a mating; it was a... She couldn’t find the word but the feeling. Oh, the feeling! It surged forward out of the most primitive part of her in an exultant burst of joy. Free at last; she was free. And just in that moment when she would have given that moment a name, Ace fisted his hand on her bun and pulled her mouth from his, leaving her aching as he stepped back.

For a second, Petunia couldn’t comprehend what had happened. The only things that kept her from tumbling were the wall at her back and his hand on her arm. She felt bereft and abandoned. Lost.

“You’ve got your deal.”

A slap to the face couldn’t have been more shocking than his withdrawal. The afternoon sun had sunk behind the buildings, and she felt the chill of the shadows sink into her bones, even as he took that second step away. For him, it had been nothing more than a kiss, probably one of thousands, but for her it had been a moment that shook her world in ways that was going to take days to figure out. She licked her lips, tasting him. Her breasts felt swollen and tender, and when she looked down, her nipples were evident through her clothes. She brought her hands up, only realizing the mistake of that when he laughed.

Jerking out of his grip, she felt her bun give and her hair fall around her shoulders. Petunia didn’t need to look into Ace’s face to know he’d only been amusing himself. He was who he was, and she was a fool.

“Bastard.”

He had the gall to smile. “I assure you, my parents were married.”

She hated that he could be so reasonable when she was fumbling just to get her tongue around words.

“Our bargain’s done?” she asked, yanking her jacket down and untangling her reticule from her wrist, pretending that her nipples weren’t still tingling, that her breath still wasn’t raspy, that her voice wasn’t a shadow of its former conviction.

Ace picked his hat up off the doorknob and settled it on his head as he nodded, studying her in a way that made her want to... She didn’t know what it made her want to do but whatever it was, it wasn’t what she was used to, and she didn’t want to explore it while he watched.

“You’ll give back the money?”

“I’ll handle it.”

She reached behind her for the door. She wanted away. He stopped her before she got her hand on the knob.

“Not that way.”

Her first instinct was to tell him to go to hell. Her second was to swear. He was right. She couldn’t go through the saloon. She didn’t want to go down the alley, either, but she didn’t have much of a option. He took her arm as she hesitated.

“You go that way, you won’t get home before dark.”

That was the truth. This late the streets started to get wild, and schoolmarm or not, a woman alone was easy prey for the miners and cowhands who flooded the town when they got a bit of gold dust in their pocket.

“Come.”

“Does everything you say have to come out an order?”

“Yes.”

Twisting her hair back up into a bun as she skipped to keep up, she muttered, “I don’t like it.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

She didn’t think so.

He steered her down the alley to two buildings over and opened a door. It was the mercantile; she should have thought of that herself.

He said, “Go through here.”

Part of her hoped there was some gallantry trapped somewhere inside him because he didn’t leave her to find her own way home, but more of her wanted to believe he was a reprobate that she could dismiss as a mistake. Her “Thank you” came out choked. His “You’re welcome” was just as tight.

That tightness in his voice could be because the moment had affected him just as much as it had her, but she didn’t fool herself into believing it was the truth. She might be an old maid who didn’t get kissed often, but if the stories were to be believed, he was a man who spent a lot of his time in other women’s beds. And what he did there was something that was whispered about and speculated on, but she never understood why his bed sport created so many blushes and twitters among the loose women of town until now. The man was a warlock. She wasn’t going to be just another conquest to him.

“Thank you for the kiss.”

His eyebrow rose. She smiled, not giving him any option but to respond in kind.

“You’re welcome.”

It was time to go. She didn’t want to. Hugging her arms to her chest, she asked one last time, more to delay rather than because she doubted his word. Ace was many things, but she’d never heard he wasn’t a man of his word.

With her hand on the doorknob she asked, “You’ll give Brian back his money?”

She couldn’t see his eyes between the shadows of his hat and the creeping of dusk, but there was no mistaking the promise in his voice.

He tipped his hat. “I’ll handle it.”