The Outlaws: Rafe by Connie Mason Read Free Book Online Page A

pulled on his clothing and jammed his hat down on his head.   Angel was still sleeping as he quietly left the wagon.   He had stashed his saddlebags beneath the wagon last night and he ducked down to remove his slicker.   Then he ventured out into the rain.
    The ground squished beneath his feet and Rafe spit out a curse.   Getting bogged down in ankle deep mud didn't appeal to him.   He relieved himself, washed up at the stream and returned to the wagon.   Angela was up when he returned, setting leftovers from last night out for the breakfast.
    "It's damn...er...darn nasty out," Rafe said as he shook out his hat and slicker and climbed over the tailgate.
    The wagon seemed to shrink as Rafe filled it with his broad form.   Angela felt intimidated by his very presence, although she had to admit that he had acted the gentleman last night.   He could have forced her and she couldn't have done a thing about it, but he hadn't.
    "Are you hungry?   There's leftovers from last night.   Help yourself," she said as she drew her shawl over her head and prepared to leave the protection of the wagon.   "I won't be gone long."
    Seated on his bedroll, Rafe was chewing contentedly on cold rabbit and cornbread when Angela returned.   The hem of her skirt was soaking wet and so were her shoes.   As she removed her shawl, one wet shoe slid out from beneath her and she fell, right into Rafe's lap.   His arms went around her.   His skin felt hot against her cool flesh.
    "You're cold."
    Angela shivered, but she doubted it was from cold.   Being held by Rafe was definitely disconcerting.   She stared at him through lashes spiked with raindrops.
    "You're soaked through.   Let's get those wet clothes off of you," Rafe said.
    Deftly he undid the buttons on the front of her blouse.   Before she knew what he intended, he had pulled her blouse down her shoulders and out of her waistband.   She made a grab for it as he pulled it off, but it was too late.   Her blouse flew across the wagon.
    "Now the skirt," Rafe said, tugging on her waistband.   The skirt went the way of the blouse.   Then he removed a blanket from his bedroll and placed it around her shoulders, cradling her against him until she stopped shaking.
    "Isn't that better?"
    "You had no right," she mumbled against the warmth of his chest.
    Amusement colored his words.   "I'm probably the only man who has the right."
    She popped her head out of the blanket.   "You can release me now."
    "Not on your life, Angel.   I've wanted to hold you like this for a very long time.   Too bad it took a fall to land you in my arms.   Relax, I told you I wouldn't do anything you didn't want."
    "I don't want to be held."
    "Like hell."   A knowing smile touched his eyes.   "You like to be kissed, too."
    As if to prove his point, his mouth came down hard on hers.   The kiss was thorough, fierce, devastating, an erotic rampage upon her senses.   When he finally lifted his mouth, she felt all ragged inside.
    Her heart jumped violently, banging against her ribs.   She made a faint sound of apprehension but his mouth smothered it as he kissed her again, penetrating her with his tongue.   She felt the flat of his palm move up between her legs, spreading them gently; she tried to squirm away.   Her breath hitched as he stroked the silky inner skin, his hold on her tightening.   His mouth moved hungrily over hers, tasting of rain and the sizzling tang of lightning.
    She moaned low in her throat as her body caught fire and simmered with a sensuality she never knew she possessed.   She felt flushed and warm, her skin keenly sensitive.   The flesh where his hand caressed felt deliciously chafed, and deep inside, she felt all soft and slick.   She knew she had to stop this madness before he wits deserted her.
    When Rafe's mouth drifted from her lips to caress the pulse point on her throat, Angela somehow found the strength to turn her face away when he would have taken her lips again.