she leaned forward to stroke her horse’s neck and each time Creed’s body hardened as he imagined those untutored fingers running over his chest, down his thigh, imagined her beautiful dark eyes staring up at him, hazy with passion…
Muttering an oath, he slammed the door on his rampant thoughts.
As they rode alongside the stream, Jassy marveled anew at the beauty of the prairie that stretched ahead of them for miles. But it was Creed’s face that drew her attention over and over again. She never tired of looking at him, of watching the easy way he sat in the saddle, the way his gaze moved over the countryside, ever wary, missing nothing. She loved to watch the play of muscles in his back and shoulders when he moved.
Occasionally, she met his glance, felt the heat that smoldered in the depths of his eyes. He was a man grown, she mused, not a boy like Harry Coulter. The thought should have frightened her; instead, it filled her with a sense of exhilaration, as if she were on the verge of some wondrous discovery.
Her heartbeat quickened when they reached the valley. Creed had kissed her here. Unconsciously, she licked her lower lip, remembering, wondering if he would kiss her again.
Creed drew his horse to a halt beneath a lacy willow tree. Dismounting, he lifted Jassy from the bay and slowly lowered her feet to the ground.
She gazed up into his eyes, her every thought, her every desire, shining in her eyes.
And in spite of every warning he’d given himself, Creed Maddigan lowered his head and kissed her, his lips drinking deeply from hers, as if she were life itself and he was a man on the brink of destruction.
Her lips were soft and smooth and warm. At the touch of his tongue, she swayed against him, her breasts pressing against his chest as her lips parted in silent invitation.
Creed wrapped his arms around her and together, they slowly sank to the ground. He kissed her for a long time, his mouth playing softly over her lips, her eyelids, the curve of her cheek, the tip of her nose, the lobe of her ear. His hands burned to explore the gentle contours of her body, but he knew if he touched her, he’d be lost. And so he kissed her instead, his tongue laving the sweet length of her neck, the pulse that vibrated in the hollow of her throat. It was the most exquisitely painful pleasure he had ever known, touching without taking, exploring without possessing.
Jassy moaned softly as the tender torment went on and on. She pressed herself against Creed, her hands roaming over his broad back and shoulders, delighting in the play of powerful muscles beneath her questing fingertips. His body was hard and firm and infinitely fascinating. His kisses made her yearn for something she didn’t fully understand, made her blood race and her heart pound with such ferocity she feared it might burst within her breast. Heat flowed in her and through her until she was on fire for him. And when she thought she might die of the ecstasy wrought by his lips and his tongue, he let her go and stood up.
For a moment, she could only stare at him, too dazed to speak. He stood with his back to her, his hands clenched at his sides, as he drew in several long, shuddering breaths. And then he turned around.
“Come on,” Creed said, offering her his hand, “we’d better go for a walk.”
“A walk?” She blinked up at him through eyes cloudy with desire.
“A walk,” Creed said.
Confused, she placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. “But…”
“But what?”
“I…” She glanced away, embarrassed. “I want you to kiss me some more.”
“And I want to kiss you,” Creed said, his voice raspy and uneven. “And that’s why we’re going for a walk.”
“Is walking a good idea? I mean, what about your leg. Does it still hurt?”
“Not as much as some other places,” Creed muttered cryptically. “Come on, let’s walk.”
She didn’t argue. She was too happy to be with him, too caught up in his nearness,
Learning to Kill: Stories