Sagebrush Bride by Tanya Anne Crosby

its own, Elizabeth thought wildly, and then she couldn’t
think at all as Cutter suckled her lips. The shock of it was physical, sending
convulsions throughout her entire body.
     
    Cutter
lost himself in the sweetness of the kiss. In his half-sotted state he couldn’t
bring himself to give a fig what the consequences might be later.
    He could only feel.
    Though
he’d known Elizabeth only twenty-four hours, it seemed he’d waited a lifetime
for precisely this moment.
    Too long.
    And
she wasn’t resisting him.
    Sucking
a rush of cool, sweet air through his clenched teeth, he slid a hand down to
the hollow of her back, crushing her closer, wanting her to feel his arousal,
embedding himself deeply into the nest of soft curls he struggled so fiercely
not to visualize in his mind’s eyes.
    She
stiffened slightly and with a belated gasp, she jerked her head backward, but
Cutter’s hand held the back of her neck, bracing her for more of his tender
assault. She whimpered in protest, but the soft sound only made his foray into
her mouth all the more frenzied.
    His
tongue swept deeper, seeking out hers, brushing at it softly, coaxing a
response from her... again... tasting, entwining with hers erotically.
    Her
knees buckled and she sagged against him as her will to fight fled and she
responded by meeting his tongue with her own, sparring with it timidly, almost
clumsily.
    Cutter
nearly exploded on the spot.
    He
swept his arms around her waist, crushing her against him as he savored the
sweetness of her lips. She might not like the fact that he had Indian blood in
his veins, but her body sure didn’t know the difference.
    God,
it would be so easy to take her the distance... lift her against him... carry
her to bed.
    So easy.
    Her
reactions were awkward, but he’d been with enough women to know the signs of
her body’s awakening.
    She wanted this as much as he did.
    Clinging
to Cutter breathlessly, she arched for him as he sank his fingers into her
hair, tilting her head backward to give him better access.
    “Cutter,”
she sighed.
    He
heard her confusion in the single word, and an unwelcome thought emerged from
the dark recesses of Cutter’s mind, creeping obstinately into his
consciousness. Stubbornly ignoring it, he deepened the kiss, only to find that
it wouldn’t go away.
    He
had the nagging suspicion that if he bedded her now, it would be over. That it
would end here and now. Innocent as Elizabeth evidently was, she wasn’t aware
of where this was leading, he was damned sure. Otherwise, the little prudish
miss would be clawing his eyes out just now, rather than urging him on with her
delightful little body. As angry as she’d been with him, she’d never have submitted
so easily. Her prickly pride wouldn’t allow it.
    Truth
was, he could go on... and he doubted she’d put up any resistance a’tall... but
tomorrow, or maybe even seconds afterward, she’d be conscience-stricken over
what they’d shared and she’d hightail it home quicker’n a hunted jackrabbit.
That wasn’t what he was after.
    But
damn, would it feel good!
    And—it—still—wouldn’t
get him what he wanted.
    Damn it.
    Casting
a glance over her shoulder, he eyed the small bed pensively, picturing
Elizabeth there, lying beneath him in all her glory, her long, silky hair
wrapped around his bare thighs. Jesus, he wanted that. Scrutinizing the piece
of furniture intently, he forced himself away from her lips, kissing one corner
of her mouth regretfully, before he tilted her head to one side in order to
better view his coveted destination.
    Instinctively,
even against his will, his sensual lips were drawn to her exposed neck, like a
predator to its prey. Forgetting himself, he nuzzled her hungrily as his
fingers twisted in her hair. His teeth grazed her flesh ever so lightly,
nibbling, his tongue flicking out to taste her. Finding the fragile pulse that
ticked just beneath the pale surface, he groaned at the feel of it. As he
feasted, his gaze