Free This Calder Range by Janet Dailey Page B

didn’t know or understand. She wound her arms around him and hugged him close, pressing her cheek against his jacket to hide her face. “Don’t talk like that, Benteen,” she murmured. Now she was the one who needed to be comforted.
    His hands took a firm hold of her upper arms to force her away from his chest. Lorna kept her hands around his middle and her gaze lowered. His hands moved to her neck and into her long hair at the sides, forcing her head up.
    â€œHow soon can the wedding be arranged?” he asked with a quiet urgency. “I want us to leave as soon as I’ve got the supplies and horses we’ll be needing for the drive.”
    They had waited so long that Lorna didn’t understand why it all had to be rushed now. She had tried not to think about leaving the secure world she’d always known. The leather gloves were rough against the delicate skin of her cheeks.
    â€œWhy are you so anxious to go?” she whispered.
    â€œYou are the only good thing I’ve ever found in Texas,” Benteen murmured. Just for a minute, the mask slipped to reveal the pain and bitterness in his expression.
    Then his dark eyes seemed to absorb her whole into his system. She was only half-conscious of being slowly pulled into his arms. He lowered his mouth to her lips and took them with a rough force. She curled her arms around his lean waist, warmed by his enveloping body heat.
    Benteen could feel the pulsing life in the soft female form pressed against him. Surrounded by all this death, he needed the renewal her body offered. He fed on her lips, eating them with a hunger that forced them apart. His hard tongue probed the space he’d created.
    Lorna stiffened at its invasion. The sensation was new, and vaguely thrilling. She relaxed a little, sensing that it gave him pleasure, that it filled a need he had at this moment. Ultimately, that was her objective in the embrace.
    There was an instinctive reciprocation of the intimacy. With it came a gradual change in her desires, into something more self-centered. There was less giving and more taking as inner needs began to dictate her wants. As her mouth mated with his, she was beginning to feel hot all over, burning with a fire she didn’t know how to extinguish.
    The hardness of his leanly muscled body was beginning to assert its pressure on her, trapping her against the unyielding boards of the buggy. The long skirt of her dress was whipped around his legs by the wind. There was an insistence about the thrusting angle of hiships that she didn’t understand. His hands were under her shawl, pressing her spine to arch more completely against him. Lorna was on tiptoe, straining to achieve the closeness he was demanding, and feeling a raw frustration when she failed.
    His arms relaxed their hold. She was momentarily confused, not wanting the embrace to end. A hand slid along the side of her rib cage. She pushed against its touch, thinking Benteen was going to force her out of his arms. Instead, his hand moved to cover her breast, taking full possession of its ripe fullness, straining against the material of her dress.
    An inferno of emotions seemed to erupt inside her. For a split second she yielded to them, until she recognized the sinful lust that was possessing her. She tried to pull free of his arms, but there was no place to go. The buggy was behind her, pushing her into his male wall.
    There didn’t seem to be any strength in her fingers when she tried to push his hand away from her breast. She was breathing hard, as if she’d run some great distance. Her cheeks were scarlet with shame at her loose behavior. Lifting her head, Lorna searched his face in alarm, afraid he would be shocked that she had practically invited him to treat her like this—like one of those soiled doves she’d seen around the saloons. But the ache she saw in his eyes almost made her wish she hadn’t stopped him.
    Benteen took a half-step