Authors: Patti Berg
“No.”
“You understand this is just a kiss, nothing more?”
She nodded, but her heart went into overdrive.
Slowly, his eyes wide open as he watched her, his mouth closed over her lower lip. He sucked on it, his tongue making small circles over her sensitive flesh. Charity wove her hands about his neck and whispered, “More. Please.”
His mouth swept over hers. Heat radiated from her heart, to her stomach, then shot blazing flames through her arms and legs to the tips of her fingers and toes. His kiss was so powerful, so moving it caused the ground to shake beneath her.
A half day’s growth of beard had shadowed Mike’s face, and she loved the roughness against her cheeks and chin. His lips were slightly cracked and chafed from the bitter weather, but she relished the rough feel of them, the salty taste of them. But what she really enjoyed was the way his tongue reached out for hers. Warm, so warm, and they did what she loved doing the most— they danced, a sensual mixture of the waltz and tango. Slow. Easy. Their lips, their tongues perfectly in sync.
And then the earth shook again.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought she heard the deafening whinny of a horse and the powerful crash of hooves against stone. But at the surface of her consciousness, all she heard was a giddy song playing in her heart.
Until Jezebel jerked the reins from her hands in an attempt to catch her attention. Somehow she managed to drag herself away from the intoxicating scent of Mike’s aftershave, from the heat emanating from his body, and tilted her head to see Satan standing not fifty feet away.
Blasted horse
! How dare he interrupt the most pleasant moment of her whole entire life.
The stallion didn’t move, except for the wind whipping through his mane. He merely stood there and stared at them with defiant brown eyes, daring them to go on another chase.
Mike’s right hand twisted around the rope hanging from his saddle and Charity reached across him, clutching his fingers, hoping to stop any attempt he made to lasso the stallion.
“Couldn’t we ignore him this time?” she asked, drawing in a deep breath and leaning toward him, wanting their mouths to dance again.
“It’s hard to ignore him when he’s standing there watching us.”
“Close your eyes and kiss me again. Maybe I can make you forget he’s there.”
“You make me forget a whole lot of things,” Mike said, sweeping his hand over the back of her head and tugging her mouth hard against his. He kissed her so thoroughly in just those few swift seconds that she almost tumbled off of Jezebel’s back. “Sometimes,” he whispered against her lips, “I’m afraid you could make me forget I’m a minister.”
And then he was gone—the salty taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, his hard, strong body. All she could see was his back as Buck sprinted across the prairie.
Her body trembled. She wanted more, so much more, but she had to turn her back, just as Mike had done, before he made her forget that she had a life in Vegas, a life she wanted far more than she wanted his kisses.
If it wasn’t for Satan, she’d ride off in the other direction. She’d get as far away from Mike as she could. But right now she had a stallion to save.
She’d worry about saving her sanity later.
Satan led them on a wild chase,
over flat land and rugged, up a rise to the top of a narrow and treacherous plateau. Mike thought for sure a hard and fast ride would cool the fire burning inside him, but all it did was add to his anxiety and toss fuel on the flames.
Charity was hot. Too hot for any man. Wild and untamable. Seductive yet innocent. Vulnerable but guarded. A complicated woman—and he was a fool for touching her.
The woman drove him mad.
A barrage of gravel hit his coat and grazed his face, yanking him back to reality. It hurt like hell, the place he’d be going if he didn’t get hold of himself and remember that he was a man who’d vowed that he wouldn’t have sex without marriage.
For the first time in a long time he could understand what the teenagers in his church were going through, how overactive hormones could lead them astray. Right now he wanted to stray— but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
He wiped mud from his face with the back of his glove and turned around to see Charity right on his heels. Her hair had pulled completely free of its braid and whipped out behind her in the breeze. Don’t look, he told himself. Don’t even think about all that silky brown hair cascading over naked shoulders, and firm breasts, and slender hips. Don’t think about your hands smoothing over those velvety places and seeking out warm, hidden places as well.
Think about Satan.
He rode harder, trying to put Charity out of his mind. Later, after he caught that damnable horse, he’d figure out how to deal with the lustful cravings of his body and soul. Of course, a man of the cloth didn’t have all that many options to consider. If truth be told, there were only two: abstinence, which was proving to be a pain; and marriage.
Oh, yeah, wouldn’t a marriage between the two of them be something, when both of them had different goals in life. One night of marital bliss and she’d hightail it to Vegas and he’d be stuck in nowhere, hornier than ever, thinking about his wife dancing half naked, doing bumps and grinds on stage for hundreds of thousands of men when he’d prefer that she dance naked for him alone.
Forget her
! Just forget her. You’re not in love with her. You don’t want to marry her. And she thinks you’re a control freak with an uncontrollable libido.
Think about Satan!
It wasn’t long before Charity caught up with him, and they rode together in pursuit of Satan, both of them looking straight ahead, neither one of them daring to look at the other.
It was better that way.
The stallion had had endless chances to disappear, to charge down a steep embankment or through a narrow draw, but he never left their sight. If this was some new kind of game the mustang was playing, Mike didn’t mind playing along, but he planned to come out the victor.
Not far ahead, the plateau came to a sudden halt. Mike and Charity slowed their mounts and stopped a few hundred feet from the edge of the rocky precipice, but Satan kept running until his escape route came to an abrupt and perilous end.
Satan stood on the overhang, his movements skittish as he jerked his head around to stare at the sudden drop-off and the deep, rocky ravine below. Charity looked just as jumpy as the horse, her nervous eyes flickering from the mustang to the rope Mike held.
Her gloved hand stretched over his thigh, her fingers mere inches from the rope. “Please let him go.”
Mike shook his head. Whether Satan wanted it or not, he was going back to the ranch, he was going to be tamed, and Mike wasn’t going to let Charity interfere.
Her leg brushed against his, but Mike kept his concentration centered on Satan, nudging Buck a few feet away in case Charity got it in her mind to do something foolish—like try to stop him again.
Circling the rope over his head, he built a loop as he and Buck ambled toward the stallion. Satan’s nostrils flared and his eyes widened in a mixture of anger and fright. He skittered about, his powerful hooves sending rocks and dirt cascading over the cliff.
“Don’t move, Satan,” Mike coaxed. “Just hold still, and we’ll get this over with.”
Out of the corner of his eye Mike caught a glimpse of Charity coming up along side him, saw her pleading eyes, but he wouldn’t be stopped. Satan was destined for his ranch, to sire the best saddle horses in the west. The stallion would not get away again.
The loop he’d built was perfect. His distance from the stallion was exactly right, and he let the rope slide through his gloved fingers and fly toward the mustang. In a heartbeat, Satan would be his.
But in less than a heartbeat Charity hit him broadside and he sailed out of Buck’s saddle and through the air. His butt hit the ground first. His back and head followed right behind, bouncing a time or two against the dirt and mud, before Charity landed smack on top of him.
Murderous thoughts ricocheted through his mind as he tried to catch his breath. He had a rope in his hands—a rope that hadn’t found its mark. Since the rope wasn’t around Satan, maybe he’d just wrap it around Charity’s slender neck, after all, it was fully exposed and just inches from his hands.
The rest of her body was a whole lot closer. Too close. Her warm breath and her cascading hair teased his cheeks, his ears, his nose. Soft breasts smashed against his chest. Her hipbone jabbed his groin and half a dozen rocks stabbed his backside.
Murdering Charity would be easy and what the heck, he’d already racked up a whole host of sins he had to atone for.
He brushed a hunk of Charity’s hair from his face and her defiant hazel eyes glared down at him. Her jaws ground together as if he’d jumped her instead of the other way around.
“I hate to ask this,” he said, “since you seem to be so comfortable, but could you move?”
“No. If I do, you’ll go after Satan and I told you I wouldn’t let you catch him.”
If she wouldn’t budge, he would, but the first shift of his body did nothing more than make their hips rub together. And then the unexpected happened. His blasted body reacted—fast, hard, completely out of control.
Charity’s eyes widened. She wiggled in an attempt to get away, but instead her pelvis ground right into him.
“Quit moving or you’re gonna have real trouble on your hands,” he said through nearly clenched teeth.
She froze. “I didn’t mean to make you... angry.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “No?”
A slight smile touched her lips. “Feel like murdering me?”
“It crossed my mind.”
“But you’re a man of God and you wouldn’t do something like that. Would you?”
“Every man has his limits.”
A touch of merriment twinkled in her eyes as she pulled a lock of his hair over his brow, slid an inch or two up his body, rubbing him the wrong way once again, and planted a soft, teasing kiss on his lips. “Have you reached yours?”
“Just about.”
“Does that mean you’d like me to get up now?”
An hour ago he might have told her to stay where she was. He might not have cared about the rocks stabbing him in the back. But things had a way of changing in an hour.
He looked past her toward the wild stallion. The horse stood stock still on the edge of the cliff, glaring at him as if he dared Mike to try again.
Why was he surrounded by stubborn, obstinate creatures that needed taming?
“Whether you like it or not, Charity, I’ve got a horse to catch. So, yeah, I’d like you to get up now.”
“All right, I’ll move, but I’m not going to let you get Satan.”
Headstrong. Willful. Sexy. And he had to get her off of him—fast.
Her first real move spelled near disaster, when her knee slid between his legs. He steeled his nerves, anticipating the next undulation of her teasing body, and sucked in a deep breath through clenched teeth when her hips slid and swirled in all the wrong but right ways. She was soft and feminine, and he was anything but soft.
“Sorry.”
The woman didn’t look the least contrite. In fact, she looked as if she enjoyed every speck of torture she inflicted upon him. Inside and out, he was dying a million deaths while she wiggled her erotic body all over him in what appeared to be a half-hearted attempt to stand.
The last squirm, the last little bump and grind pushed him over the edge. He wrapped his arms around her, rolled over as if they were in a king-sized bed, and stared down at her.
“Looks like the tide has turned and I’m in control now.”
Her lips pursed as he moved in close, his mouth only a fraction of an inch from hers. Her breathing grew heavy. He could feel the beat of her heart quicken.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked.
“What do you think?”
She swallowed hard. “Kiss me?”
That had been his first thought, but his emotions weren’t that far out of whack. “Not on your life.” He chuckled as he pushed up from the ground.
Ignoring the mud, dirt, and snow that clung to a good deal of his body, he swept up his hat, pulled it hard on his head, and went for his rope.
But Charity had beaten him to it. “You looking for this?” She stood between him and Satan, the lariat clenched in her fist.
He stuck his hand out, palm up, as if he thought she’d give the rope up without a fight.
“I’m not going to let you get him. He’s wild and free, and he’ll die if you try to fence him in.”
“Give me the rope.”
Charity shook her head as she backed toward the stallion. “How would you like it if someone roped you? If someone shoved you behind a ten-foot fence?”
“Five foot,” he corrected.
“A fence is a fence, it doesn’t matter how high or how low it is.”
He took a cautious step toward her, keeping a wary eye on the stallion and the edge of the cliff. “I won’t hurt him, Charity. How many times do I have to tell you that? All I want to do is tame him, then breed him.”
Satan reared, his powerful front hooves batting the air before they came down hard just feet from Charity.
“Don’t get any closer to him, Charity. Please.”
She ignored him, moving back an inch at a time, even though Mike had stopped his advance.
“The ledge isn’t going to hold the two of you.” Mike’s heart hammered in his chest as rocks crumbled away at the edge of the ravine, as Satan spun around and leaped over the side, down the steeply-angled cliff, sending snow and dirt into the air behind him. It rained down on Charity, and Mike lunged forward to grab hold of her, but all he caught was the flash of fear in her eyes as the ground gave way beneath her feet, and she disappeared along with a rush of earth.