California Caress

His gaze hardened. “You’ve never met Charles, Hope. You have no idea what the man is capable of. Murder would be a small enough price for him to pay to have me out of his life for good.”

“But how can you be sure? Maybe—”

The finger he slanted across her lips stifled Hope’s words. She glanced up at him, her gaze wide-eyed and innocent.

“It was Charles. I recognized his henchman back in Thirsty Gulch. Tubbs was the one who started the fire in your cabin.” His fingertip brushed her wounded shoulder. “He also did this.”

Her cheeks drained of color as a shudder trembled across her shoulder. “He was going to kill you, Drake,” she said, her voice flat. “He said so. He said he took me so you’d follow him. I—” she averted her suddenly moist gaze to the rain-drenched window, “I told him he was wrong. I told him you wouldn’t come, that you didn’t care enough to try and find me.”

“Come here.” Drake pulled her up hard against his chest and buried his face in her hair. The gentle rush of his breath whispered in her ear.

The guilt of her admission ate at her. She hadn’t believed he would come for her, yet he had. He’d risked his life tracking them down, and she’d just repaid him by slapping him in the face with her doubts.

Hope shivered as she tried to pull away. Drake refused to let her go as his lips nuzzled her ear. All sense of fear and humiliation vanished like steam under the feel of his lips brushing against her flesh.

“Let me go, Drake,” she argued weakly, trying to twist from his grasp again. His hold tightened and she became excruciatingly aware of every virile inch that pressed so intimately against her. “Let me go. There’s something I have to do.”

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” he murmured huskily as he lowered his head to taste the delicate line of her jaw. Her skin tasted of rainwater and mud.

A tremor that had nothing to do with the fear coursed through her veins. “No,” she replied, her voice a hoarse, ragged breath, “it can’t. I don’t know about you, but I’m soaking wet and freezing. I want dry clothes and a fire.”

“What do you think I’m trying to build here?" He countered teasingly, as his mouth worked tiny kisses up the line of her neck, over her jaw. Cupping her cheeks, he pulled her face up to his. With the tip of his thumb he wiped away the tears that trailed down her cheeks unchecked. “I need you, Hope, even more than I realized. The whole time I was searching for you, I feared I would never see you again. Now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to let you go. I want to take you in my arms and love you the way you were meant to be loved.” His eyes darkened until they glistened like emeralds in the lamplight. “Let me, Hope. Let me love you.”

Drake didn’t wait for an answer as his mouth sought its own response, a response Hope was helpless to deny. With each tantalizing stroke of his tongue, she lost a little more of her rapidly dwindling self-control.

She needed this man, she realized suddenly. She needed to feel his tender lovemaking wipe away all the bitter memories this night had held. By the time his tongue had touched the honeyed sweetness of her own, she no longer had the power to deny their hungry bodies the release both so eagerly craved.

Pushing all doubts aside, she surrendered to the urgency of his kiss. The sheer intensity of desire that coursed through her blood still frightened her, but the sweetness of Drake’s skilled, urgent caresses quickly blotted out her fear. “Ah, Hope.” He whispered huskily against her lips. His breath was a hot caress against her moist flesh as she tangled her fingers in the damp thickness of his hair. “My sweet, beautiful, Hope. Tell me you need me as much as I need you. Tell me, sunshine.”

“Yes,” she sighed, straining into the hard promise of his body. She had no control over the passionate fire raging through her blood, over the wild beating of her heart. Her thick lashes flickered shut as she allowed Drake to lower her to the floor. “Ooohhh, yeessss....”

“What are you doing?” she asked sleepily. Rain splattered noisily against the window and a rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. With a contented sigh, she smoothed the wrinkles from the bedroll Drake had placed over her naked body.

“Your wish is my command, m’lady,” he replied as he knelt next to the cold, empty hearth and began piling it high with sticks and twigs. From over his shoulder, he sent her his most charming smile. “I’m building you a fire.”

Drake had put on his trousers to fetch the wood. Hope pushed up on one elbow and watched him, fascinated by the way the rain glistened against his bare torso, aroused by the way the snug denim stretched over his lean hips. His damp hair shimmered in the pale glow of moonlight.

“Isn’t it a little late for that, gunslinger?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. Her smile came easily now that she basked in the sweet afterglow of their lovemaking.

“It’s never too late.” Drake shot her a glance of pure devilry as he touched the match to the wood. The sticks caught and the small room was quickly filled with flickering orange shadows. Still holding Hope’s gaze, he raised the burning match and blew it out. A waft of smoke curled in the air around his head as he tossed the match aside. “Come here, wench.”

“Wench, is it now?” Hope giggled. Clutching the blanket to her chest, she wiggled out of his reach. “Wherever did you pick up these words? Hasn’t anyone ever told you that gamblers and rogues don’t talk that way?”

“I’m not a rogue.” One golden brow rose in mock offense as he tossed a log into the fire then lurched for her. He pinned her squirming body beneath his. “Gambler? Unquestionable. Rogue? Not a chance.”

His mouth swooped down to steal a fleeting kiss. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. The golden curls at his sun-kissed nape were damp as they tickled her bare forearms.

“You are a rogue,” she murmured against his lips, her eyelids heavy with satiation. “And a conceited one at that. Now get under this blanket before you catch a chill.”

With a playful shove, Hope pushed Drake off her. He slipped beneath the blanket when she lifted it invitingly.

“Hmmm, you’re right, this is much better.” He sighed with contentment as he scooped her to his side.

Hope nestled her head on the hard pillow of his shoulder. His heart beat a rhythmic tempo in her ear as the fire warmed her cheek and brow. “Where did you learn those things, Drake?” she asked, her fingers teased the golden pelt of hair on his chest.

“What things?”

The memory of the fight flashed through her mind, as did the lock of hair he’d stolen from her on that day. “Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Ladies fair, jousting knights, tokens, wenches—those sort of things. Not exactly the kind of stuff you expect to find in your average gunslinger’s repertoire.”