The Texas Ranger's Daughter. Jenna Kernan

ear, taking her soft lobe in his mouth and sucking. She shivered with delight.

      His hand remained splayed over her collarbone, maddeningly high. If only he would cup her breast with those big callused hands.

      “What do you want, Laurie-gal?”

      But she couldn’t say what she wanted aloud, for she didn’t know. And if she did know, she felt certain it was wicked and wrong to want it.

      “Tell me,” he urged.

      “No,” she whispered, shocked at the breathy quality of her voice.

      He chuckled, his chest rumbling behind her like a kettle drum. “No one will know,” he whispered. “Be our secret.”

      Secret, yes, just another secret.

      He had woven some spell over her, made her body turn against her, until she longed for his touch, ached for it. He slid one hand down, cupping her breast, kneading the sensitive flesh and bringing her nipple to a tight throbbing bud of need. He pinched it gently between his thumb and forefinger. Oh, he was making it worse. Now she burned and the aching sensitivity increased with each wonderful, masterful touch. Deep inside her core, she felt her body quicken and then came the liquid heat where she touched the saddle. How did he know to do these things, how did he know her body better than she did?

      She could not catch her breath and she felt feverish and weak. Now he had both hands upon her breasts, pressing her against his body, kissing her neck and ear. Each time his lips touched hers, he sent shivering tremors through her, like tiny earthquakes. Her head fell back against his chest and she lifted her chin offering her lips, longing to feel his kiss once more.

      His mouth moved over hers, their kiss deep and long. Laurie trembled as his hands snaked down over her twitching belly and to the rivet that held her jeans. Though the fit was tight on her hips, the waist gaped and he had no trouble releasing the rivets. His fingers delved into her thick curls, burrowing deeper, closer to her most private places. She shifted in a poor effort to evade his touch but only succeeded in helping him reach his goal. He found her cleft, sliding his fingers over her slippery flesh. She gasped in shock and need. This was wrong. She knew it, yet she said nothing to stop him. But this time, she wanted the touch, craved it.

      “Lean back … that’s it. Let me touch you.”

      She did as he bid her, rolling her hips so he could stroke her needy nub of flesh, and was rewarded instantly with a curling, building tension which began where he caressed her and crept outward. Her body flexed as she rocked against his stroking fingers, beginning a slow rolling rhythm.

      “That’s it. Nice and slow.”

      Something was happening. She couldn’t move slowly any longer. The urge to thrust overcame her and she began to rock her hips in a way that was new, yet familiar. She climbed toward a new goal as her body moved in ways she did not recognize. She lifted her arms and locked them about his neck, pulling, arching. His mouth moved to the shell of her ear.

      She couldn’t get enough air and feared she might faint. What was happening to her? With a suddenness that shocked her, the tension, which had built with each slow rocking motion of the man’s hands and the saddle, released in a tumbling waterfall of pleasure, flowing outward from his masterful fingers, rippling in all directions with a force that caused her to arch as if he had stabbed her in the back. She tried to scream, but his mouth covered hers, silencing her cry as she clung, wrapping her arms around his neck, allowing his tongue to plunder her mouth.

      The waves of pleasure receded, replaced by a lethargy. Laurie’s arms slipped from about his neck and she collapsed against him. Gradually she came back to herself. She lay quivering, enfolded in his strong arms, his chin now resting familiar upon the top of her head.

      Laurie blinked, becoming aware by slow degrees. What in the world was that?

      She looked about.

      They still rode slowly along, the horse picking his way in near silence. Their pursuers had vanished in the shroud of darkness. And Boon still hugged her close, as if she belonged to him, one arm about her waist and the other cupping her at the juncture of her thighs in some vulgar mockery of an embrace. Laurie glanced at herself, seeing his dark hand thrust lewdly down her open trousers. When had he unbuttoned her shirt? How had he managed to get the shirt open and her camisole unlaced?

      She’d acted just like a prostitute, taking her pleasure, rubbing up against him like a mare in heat. She lifted her hands to cover her burning eyes. It didn’t help. She still wanted to cry.

      “Feeling better?” he asked, as if it were perfectly natural to ride with her blouse open and his hand down her pants.

      She gave a little cry of dismay.

      “Laurie?” His voice now held caution.

      She writhed, nearly falling from the horse.

      He withdrew his hand and grasped her, hauling her back before himself. “What are you doing?”

      “How could I allow you?” she whispered, pressing her hands to cover her eyes.

      “Just natural, I guess.”

      She did not know how to respond to such an answer. She was mortified. He was a complete stranger, yet she had not made the slightest effort to prevent him from touching her. The terrible truth was that she had welcomed it.

      “Laurie?” His voice had lost the easy confidence of a moment ago as uncertainty crept in.

      If she could have sunk to the canyon floor and died she surely would have. Had they not been on horseback, she was certain that he would have taken her, just as she deserved, on the ground, like an animal.

      As she fumbled with her camisole and fastened the rivets of the hated trousers, the tears came.

      “You’ve shamed me.” Her head hung as she tugged at the shirt, still unable to completely button it.

      “Shamed?”

      How dare he sound surprised? She wanted to slap him; instead she dashed away the tears coursing down her cheeks.

      “I just tried to, well, I thought you wanted to.”

      Laurie held both hands over her mouth, feeling dizzy and sick.

      “I don’t understand this.” Her voice had that high wavering quality that told her she was perilously close to sobbing.

      “Just trying to bring you ease.”

      The casualness of his reply shocked her speechless.

      “Thought it might take your mind off your troubles for a little while.”

      “No! You’ve only added to them. Oh,” she cried, “but I didn’t even try to stop you.”

      “You’re human.”

      “My display was disgraceful!”

      “Beautiful,” he whispered.

      She paused trying to decide if he was mocking her but could not tell.

      “Women got needs, too, you know.”

      “Needs? No. A lady most certainly does not have needs.”

      He gave a snort. “Well, you could be right about that, ‘cause I never been with a lady before.” He leaned close and nibbled the shell of her ear. “But I like it.”

      She slapped at him. “Stop that. Don’t touch me.”

      “That’d be some trick, riding double. Guess I’ll touch you if I like.”

      Laurie hung her head. She was a fraud and a fake, just as she’d feared. She wasn’t fit for decent society. No wonder she’d failed to attract a decent man. How could she convince a respectable gentleman that she would make him a proper wife if she allowed herself to be treated in such a low manner?

      Sweet lord, even an outlaw could tell the difference. She was no lady. Had not been since … No, she