Sheri WhiteFeather - The Ashtons - Walker, Ford & Mercedes - Betrayed Birthright / Mistaken for a Mistress / Condition of Marriage

He continued to watch her, taking in every inch of her body. He seemed to like what he saw, the slight cleavage between her breasts, the flare of her hips, the length of her bare legs.

She took another sip of his drink and noticed that his nipples were erect. She wanted to drop her gaze, but she didn’t have the nerve to glance at his fly, to be that bold in the middle of the night.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Not in your bed.”

Tamra returned his glass, giving him the rest of the water. In the process, her hand touched his. “Why not?” she asked, her heart picking up speed.

“Because I kept imagining your scent on everything. The sheets, the pillowcase.”

Dizzy, she took a deep breath, dragging oxygen into her lungs. “I don’t wear perfume.”

“I know. I can tell. You wear lotion. Whenever we get really close, I can smell it on your skin.”

“It’s just a moisturizer.” She knew that was a dumb thing to say, but she didn’t know how else to respond. He was looking at her with lust in his eyes, with a hunger so deep, she wanted to crawl all over him.

Right here. In his mother’s kitchen.

“It’s soft,” he said. “Airy. Like the plants and flowers in the greenhouse at my family’s estate.” He set his glass on the counter and moved forward.

She swallowed, got thirsty again, envisioned his mouth covering hers. She knew he was seducing her, but she didn’t care. She liked the erotic expression on his face, the deep, husky tone of his voice.

He took another step toward her, his feet silent on the faded linoleum. “I haven’t been with anyone in months.”

A vein fluttered at her neck. She could feel it, skittering beneath her skin. “It’s been longer than that for me.”

“I’m good at controlling my urges,” he told her.

She stood perfectly still. He was only inches away, so close they struggled to breathe the same air. “So am I. But I can’t seem to do that with you.”

“Me, neither.” He cursed, just once, before he dragged her into his arms, before he kissed her so hard, her head spun.

When he pinned her against the counter, she nearly wept. His mouth plundered hers, over and over, giving her what she wanted, making the moment last.

Heat. Intensity. A tongue-to-tongue sensation.

She gripped his shoulders; he cupped her bottom and pulled her flush against his body. Then they broke apart and stared at each other.

“We can’t do this,” he said. “Not here.”

She nodded, fighting the pressure between her legs, the desperation he’d incited. “Then where?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled his hand through his hair. “I can’t think clearly.”

Neither could she. All she wanted was him. Walker Ashton. A boy she’d heard about since she was a child. A man she barely knew.

“We could go for a drive,” he suggested. “In my car.”

The SUV he’d rented, she thought. A vehicle with four-wheel-drive and big backseat. Suddenly she felt like a teenager, a moonstruck girl who should know better. “What if your mom wakes up?”

“We’ll leave her a note.”

“And say what? That we decided to cruise around the rez in the middle of the night? Or drive to Gordon for a piece of pie?”

He made a face. “Do you have a better idea?”

“At least let me get dressed. Grab something from my room. Mary knows I’d never go out like this.”

That made him smile. Apparently, he’d been willing to climb behind the wheel just as he was—half-naked and much too aroused. “My clothes are in your room, too. Will you get me a shirt? A pair of tennis shoes?”

She nodded, but as she turned away, he latched on to her arm. She thought he was going to kiss her again, but he didn’t. He frowned instead.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t have any protection.”

“I’m on the Pill.”

He was still frowning. “I thought you haven’t been with anyone for a while.”

“I haven’t. But I prefer to be prepared.”

He searched her gaze. “Because of the father of your baby?”

She let out the breath she was holding. “Yes.”

“I can’t make any promises, Tamra. No happily-ever-afters. But I wouldn’t do what he did. I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”

“Thank you.” She realized they were whispering, speaking in hushed tones, talking about something far more intimate than sex.

And this time when she turned away to get their clothes, he didn’t stop her.

Walker drove into the night, traveling on a dirt road, thinking this had to be the most strangely erotic moment of his life. Tamra sat beside him with a shopping bag on her lap. He hadn’t asked her what was in it. For now he was trying to decide where to park. The reservation was dark, eerie, beautiful. The land went on forever, with trees swaying to the moonlight. In the distance a coyote howled.

“I don’t know how far to go,” he said.

She turned to look at him. She’d changed into a sundress that sported a row of tiny buttons down the front. On her feet, she wore cowboy boots. He’d never seen a more compelling woman. Her hair was the color of a raven’s wing, sleek and shiny and begging to be touched.

“With me?” she asked.

He blinked, wondered what she meant. Then it dawned on him. She was responding to his statement. The SUV hit a slight bump in the road, and he grinned. He knew how far to go with her. “I was talking about how far I should keep driving, where would be a good place to park.”

“Oh.”

She ducked her head and he suspected she was blushing. He reached over to slide his fingers through her hair, just for a second, just to feel the silkiness against his skin. “I’m going to do everything imaginable to you.”

“Oh,” she said again, only sexier this time.

Damn if he didn’t want to pull over right now, right in the middle of the road. “How about over there?” he gestured to a copse of cottonwoods.

Tamra glanced out the window. “The river is that way. There might be people camped by the water.”

“Then we’ll go in the other direction.” He cut across the terrain, closer to the hills, to a backdrop that took his breath away. He’d never made love in an area so vast, so romantic.

He parked beneath a jagged stretch of moonlight, where stars danced in the sky. “What’s in the bag, Tamra?”

She clutched it to her chest. “A blanket. Some extra clothes.”

“Extra clothes?” He touched her hair again, toying with a strand that looped across her cheek. “What for?”

“In case the ones we’re wearing get torn.”

Walker’s pulse jumped. Excited, intrigued, far too aroused, he moved closer. “Does that mean we can go crazy?”

She chewed her lip, a girlish habit he’d seen her do before. “You kept warning me that we were going to tear off each other clothes and I—” she paused, leaned toward him “—thought we better be prepared.”

He wasn’t sure if anything could prepare him for this moment—this middle-of-the-night, heaven-help-him lust. Anxious, he took her in his arms, his hands nearly quaking. She held on to him, too, gripping his shoulders.

And then they kissed, as deeply as they could, tongue to tongue, heart to beating heart.

A second later they went mad. He attacked her dress, sending every last button flying. She did the same thing to his shirt, ripping the denim with feminine force.

When she climbed onto his lap, he thought he might die. He breasts were exposed, only inches from his mouth. She was jammed between him and the steering wheel, but she didn’t seem to mind. So much for the blanket, he thought. She’d dropped it, along with their extra clothes, onto the floorboard.

He licked her nipples, switching sides, blowing on each one, making them peak. She pulled his head closer, encouraging him to suckle.