her.
The feel of her bare flesh against his made him groan, but he forced himself to wait, stroking the velvet-soft skin of her hip, her thigh, until his fingers trailed between her thighs exploring and caressing.
“Mark,” she breathed. “Oh, Mark, I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel so--”
He stopped her words with his mouth, pressed her over onto her back and raised himself above her. Easing her legs apart, he lowered himself until his sex touched the welcoming warmth of her womanhood. He thrust into her as gently as he could, but she gave a little cry of pain and tried to pull away.
Mark couldn’t halt. He was beyond reason, she was his, he’d never wanted any woman so much, he had to have her. He thrust hard once, twice, felt her tightness give and then he was deep inside her.
“I’m afraid,” she cried. “Please…”
“It’s all right, love.” he murmured. “It’s all right.”
He forced himself to slow, then to cease moving altogether, although he was on fire with need. He stayed within her as he kissed her lips, her breasts, tasting the sweetness of her skin.
His tongue probed her mouth again and soon she was clinging to him, gasping. He began
to thrust again, very slowly. Tessa started to writhe underneath him, arching up against him, moaning, calling his name. Still he held back
Tessa moved wildly, pushing her hips against him, her fingers digging into his back. He matched her rhythm as pulses of pleasure throbbed through him.
Tess cried out, hugging him to her, The sound of her passionate release shot through him and he groaned, thrusting faster and faster, feeling her pulsating, and it flashed through his mind that it had never been like this before, never before. He was truly making love to Tessa, not only with his body, but with all of him.
A flash of yellow and red shot across his eyelids and he seemed to rocket sky high before exploding into a thousand shards of pleasure.
He dressed quickly, once again noticing the chill of the February afternoon creeping through the heat of the dying fire. Tessa was already clothed when he finished and stood before the fire, her back to him. Mark moved to her and turned her to face him. She met his eyes shyly.
“Tessa,” he said. “Tessa.” He wanted to tell her he loved her, but the words refused to leave his heart. What did he have to offer her? Marriage? To ask her to be Mrs. Halloran would be the worst kind of lie.
A horse snorted outside the adobe and Mark turned toward the door. “Looks like my horse is here,” he said.
Once he had her in front of him on the sorrel, heading for Lincoln and holding her close, Mark felt desire rise in him again. His arms tightened until she made a sound of protest and twisted to look into his face.
Damn it, he thought, I’ll have to tell her, even if she hates me afterward. I want things clear between us. He took a deep breath, trying to think how to start.
With what happened in St. Louis, of course, but where to begin?
With the Judge? Or with the sordid details of the triangle of hate and passion that had made him an outcast?
“Tessa,” he began, “I grew up in St. Louis…”
Before he could say another word, a rifle cracked to the south of them. Another gunshot echoed among the hills. Then a third.
Mark kicked the sorrel into a gallop. All he could think of was that he had to get Tessa back to Lincoln before anything happened to her. He was very much afraid that a shooting war had broken out between the two sides and that they may be caught in the crossfire.
Chapter 4
Ezra’s urging kept the pinto galloping south. Tessa might never forgive him, but she was a woman and they didn’t understand men’s business. It’d be late afternoon by the time he reached Tunstall’s ranch on the Feliz. He’d taken the trail over the hills around San Patricio. The main road was better but longer.
This part of Lincoln County was pretty with its hills
Learning to Kill: Stories