Sherryl Woods - Courting the Enemy

He stroked her cheek, rubbed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip, felt the heat begin to rise in her…and in him. Her soft moan was too much, an invitation for the kiss he’d been deliberately postponing.

When his mouth settled over hers, tasting, savoring, coaxing, she responded with more abandon than she ever had before, her lips parting, her tongue sweeping across his lips. She moved restlessly beside him, an invitation for more adventurous exploration.

Beneath the wool of her sweater, her skin was hot and soft as silk. Inch by tempting inch, he slid the sweater higher, pressing kisses in its wake until she trembled. Impatient now, she ripped the sweater over her head and tossed it aside, but when she would have unclasped her bra, Grady stopped her.

“Not just yet,” he said, his gaze feasting on the swell of breasts concealed by plain white no-nonsense cotton. Somehow that image seemed to epitomize Karen, a devastating mix of fiery sensuality and practicality.

He ran a finger along the edge of the fabric, where pale skin burned beneath his touch. He skimmed a caress across her nipple, which thrust against the soft fabric. When he could stand it no longer, he bent and drew that hard, tight bud into his mouth, feeling the shudder that washed over her.

“You’re torturing me, you know that, don’t you?” she whispered on a gasp.

“Am I?” He was delighted by the admission.

“You needn’t sound so pleased with yourself,” she grumbled, then reached for the snap on his jeans. She had it open and the zipper down before he could prevent it.

And then she was touching him, adding to the pulsing heat of his arousal, sending him closer to the edge than he wanted to be.

“Clever woman,” he said, shifting out of her reach. “But not just yet. We have places to go and things to try before we get to that point.”

“Oh, really?” She seemed intrigued with that. “Tell me.”

He shook his head. “I’ll show you.”

He resumed the concentrated attention to her breasts, finally taking off the bra and circling each tight peak with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth. Her hips bucked as he took her closer and closer to release just with that slow, suckling assault on her senses.

Satisfied that he’d distracted her, he slid off her shoes and jeans, then began working his way up silky calf and rounded thigh with kisses meant to tease and torment. She was writhing when he slipped his fingers beneath her panties and found her slick and ready. One wicked caress, then two, and she was coming apart, her eyes wide with surprise as waves of pleasure washed over her.

“Not fair,” she accused when she finally caught her breath.

“Oh, darlin’, it’s not over. We’re just getting started.”

To prove it, he shucked his jeans and jockey shorts, retrieved a condom from his wallet, then started once again to coax her toward a whole new peak.

This time he allowed her clever, wicked hands to roam where she wished until at last, knowing his restraint was at the breaking point, he poised above her parted legs. Their gazes locked, he slowly entered her, withdrew, then thrust deeper into that welcoming heat.

With each thrust, her hips rose to meet him, as her flushed skin turned slick with sweat. When he pressed a kiss to the pulse at the base of her throat, it was thundering, as was his.

Her name was on his lips when the explosion tore through him, his shudders setting off hers, rippling through both of them for what seemed an eternity, until at last they faded into quiet, exhausted satisfaction.

He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, holding her as if she were the most precious, fragile gift he’d ever been given, though he knew she would never, ever appreciate being considered anything but strong. This…everything about her…was amazing.

And then he felt a drop of moisture fall from her face onto his. One quick glance told the story: These weren’t happy tears. Though she quickly, impatiently tried to brush them away, it was too late. He had seen the truth. They were tears of regret and sorrow.

Grady felt his heart break in two. How could she regret anything so perfect?

It was Caleb, of course. Always Caleb. Grady had to wonder, would there ever come a day when Caleb Hanson didn’t share a bed with them?

Grady had seen her tears, felt them, Karen realized as she lay in his arms. She felt the sudden stirring of tension, saw the distance in his eyes where only moments ago there had been such fiery passion.

When he eased away from her, then turned his back, she felt as if she had betrayed two men, not one.

Eventually she slid out of bed and went to her own room, where she showered as if that could wipe away not just the evidence of their lovemaking but her regrets as well.

How could she have been so wrong? she wondered. She’d been so sure she was ready, that her feelings for Grady ran deep enough for this next step in their relationship.

And they did, dammit. She had felt alive and treasured when he’d been making love to her. She had responded in a way she never had with Caleb, without any inhibitions at all.

“Oh, God, that’s it,” she murmured, burying her face in her pillow. It wasn’t just that awful sense of having betrayed someone that she’d been feeling, but guilt that she had felt more, given more, with Grady Blackhawk than she ever had with the man she’d married.

The passion she had shared with Caleb had been quieter, less intense, comfortable-what a terrible word, she thought-even at the beginning. They had been perfectly matched, no extreme lows or giddy highs, just steady, comfortable companions, partners in the running of the ranch.

There was nothing easy or comfortable about Grady. He was a man who tested the limits, who demanded responses that reached new heights. She’d just experienced one of those amazing, astonishing highs. Now, alone in her own bed, she was crashing to its opposite low.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered aloud.

Being with Grady put her at risk, rocked her emotionally in a way she wasn’t prepared to handle. She was afraid to trust this new passion, afraid the fire would burn itself out and she’d be left with nothing.

It had happened before. She had lost Caleb, the man she had expected to spend her entire life with. And if solid, dependable Caleb could leave her, then what guarantee did she have that a volatile man like Grady might not as well, in one way or another? She wasn’t sure she could survive another loss. Or the discovery that he had merely been manipulating her in order to get his hands on her land.

Too late, a voice in her head mocked her.

Karen sighed. It was true-for better or for worse, she was already involved with the man who slept across the hall. No matter the reason, whether she lost him now or years from now, it would hurt.

By the time the first pale slivers of dawn crept into the sky, she was no more certain of what she needed to do than she had been when she’d crawled into her own bed the night before. Nor was she prepared for a face-to-face encounter with Grady so soon.

She crept downstairs, drank a quick cup of coffee and nibbled at a piece of toast, then all but ran to the barn and saddled her horse.

It was only a little past daybreak when she rode out on Ginger. The air was crisp and smelled of approaching snow. Thick gray clouds rolled across the sky. Karen rode hard for an hour, exhausting herself, the wind whipping at her hair and stinging her cheeks.

The exercise cleared her head, but as she rode back into the paddock, all of the turmoil came back with a vengeance at the sight of Grady waiting, a fierce scowl on his face.

“Where have you been?” he demanded, even as he helped her out of the saddle.