Lonesome Rider and Wilde Imaginings by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

a long moment, then angrily crossed to it. He threw it open, certain that he’d find her still defiant—or gone.
    But she was not gone.
    She was there. She stood before the window with the curtains in her fingers, drawn back slightly. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth. She was in a silky gown of soft, sheer blue. It molded over her breasts, fluttering against the length of her. Her flesh was just visible beneath the sheer fabric. She had stood there, watching the road, waiting for him. Miserably, from the look in her eyes and the way she chewed on her lip. But determinedly. He had told her that he collected on debts.
    She had told him that she paid them.
    She spun around, staring at him, her fingers falling uneasily over the fabric of her very sheer gown as if she just realized how translucent the gown was, how very much she had given away.… And longed to cover once again.
    He closed the door between the rooms, narrowing the space between them. He leaned against it, crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her, eyeing her slowly, from the tip of her golden head to her bare toes. He tried to still the thunder that suddenly began to beat within him.
    â€œGo home,” he told her softly. “Go home.”
    â€œI cannot go home,” she insisted.
    â€œGo home, and we’ll call off this stupid wager.”
    There was moisture in her eyes. It made them dazzle like gems against a night sky. She seemed very vulnerable then, and he didn’t want her hurt. He’d put her on some kind of damned pedestal, and he’d be happy if she’d just go home. East. Where the world wasn’t great, he thought, but where the dangers weren’t quite so many, quite so fierce, quite so constant, either. Away from warring Comanches, Apaches, Comancheros. Away from bitter half-breeds, longing for a touch of paradise against the anguish and emptiness.…
    â€œDo whatever you want,” she told him. “I cannot go home.”
    With an impatient sound he was across the room. He gripped her soft smooth arms tightly in his hands, shaking her hard. “Don’t you understand what you’re going to find here? I’m not invincible! I’m flesh and blood. Even if I stayed with you, I’d probably die with a bullet or an arrow in my heart.”
    Her chin was high, her head back. She hadn’t made a sound, not a single protest against the rough way he held her. “You told me you were good,” she reminded him. “So damned good.”
    â€œBut I can still die—and leave you alone, don’t you see? And if you think I can be a bastard, lady, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
    â€œI have to stay!”
    â€œCan you really pay the price to do it?” he lashed out.
    â€œYes.”
    No, damn her! She didn’t know what she was saying, what she was offering.
    â€œAll right,” he whispered fiercely. “All right, have it all your way. And pay up, lady, pay up!”
    His fingers moved over the soft, sheer fabric that so barely covered the beauty of her body. With a narrowly controlled burst of violence, he grabbed the fabric, ripping it from throat to floor with a soft hissing sound that seemed as loud as a gunshot in the night. She gasped, her fingers reaching for the split sides.
    â€œNo,” he warned her, shaking his head. “You want to pay your debts, time to pay them. You want to take chances with savages, well, Mrs. Dylan, fine. Start with me.”
    He still never meant to hurt her.… Never meant to touch her.… Not just for her, for himself. Because he dared not take that first sip of honey.…
    But at the moment, none of it mattered. His hands were upon her, he was drawing her to him, sliding away the last of the silky blue fabric, finding her naked flesh. It was smoother than any touch of silk. Jesus. He crushed her against him, feeling the rise of her breasts, stroking his palms and fingertips down her