Susan Johnson Read online

Blaze, eyes downcast, blushed, inner conflict battling overwhelming desire.

  Hazard’s black eyes slid over her, observing the blush and hesitation with nerveless cynicism. “No need for coyness,” he drawled. “But take your time. We’ve all afternoon.” She was certainly aware of what was expected of her, of the reason she’d been sent up here, but if she chose to extend the amusement, he was amenable. “By the way,” Hazard murmured in silken accents, “your nipples are the most sensual I’ve ever seen.”

  It was as if his deep velvet voice had reached out to touch them and Blaze felt a fresh surge of desire coil deep inside her.

  He saw the perceptible rise in the rosy peaks. “Don’t make me wait too long,” he said very low. “I’d like to touch you … everywhere.”

  Blaze stirred at the heated words, at the answering heat pulsing through her body. “I don’t know … what to do,” she murmured, her fingers curling against the twill of her trousers.

  Hazard’s black brows arched in surprise or ridicule or over some curious sense of respect. “Ah … very nice.” Gentle derision underlay the approving tone. “Just the right amount of modesty. I like that.”

  “Help me,” she whispered, standing before him in a half-dressed tumble of copper-bright hair and white flesh.

  “Perfect,” said Hazard encouragingly. “A rare talent—that simple innocence.” His voice dropped a register, infused now with rich promise. “Later I’ll help you. I’m very good at ‘helping’ women. But now, bia, amuse me. Finish undressing.”

  The words, the promise, the ardent anticipation licked at her desire. Her heart wildly pulsing, Blaze half raised her hands, paused for a moment, then determinedly grasped the chemise draped at her waist. Lifting, she tried to pull the wispy lace over her breasts.

  It caught.

  For a second, Hazard watched, then said helpfully, “Come here.”

  She moved across the few feet separating them and before the frightened response could reach her eyes, Hazard had cut away the garment with a slash of his knife. Returning it to the sheath strapped to his leg, he casually remarked, “I’m sure whoever bought that can afford another. Now the boots,” he prompted, lying back down, lacing his hands behind his head.

  In a trance, compelled by desire so powerful the world dematerialized, Blaze obeyed. Hazard observed the grace of her movements: the sensuous curve of spine, slender leg, extravagant breasts swaying slightly from side to side as she bent, then shifted her weight to remove her boots. Straightening, she stood, shivering a little, although it was a warm afternoon.

  Hazard’s eyes narrowed at the faint tremor and hesitancy. “Are you a tease, pet? Because if you are, I may be inclined to pay you back later.” His arousal was aching now and, control or no, he didn’t care to wait much longer. “The slacks,” he ordered.

  There was a capricious change in his tone and expression and in her innocence a moment of uncertainty numbed her. Impatiently, eyes smoldering with passion, Hazard sat up and, reaching out, pulled her close. “Temptress,” Hazard murmured, his hands brushing up her hips and closing around her waist, “you’re very, very good, but it’s been so long for me.…” His fingers were moving to the buttons of her trousers. “The first time might have to be mine,” he said in a low, husky tone, sliding the buttons free. An instant later, her slacks were stripped off. His heart began pounding in his ears at the sight of her long-legged beauty, covered now with only brief lace drawers. He untied the ribbon drawstring with visibly shaking fingers and they slid to the floor. He pulled her one step nearer and she was free of her clothing.

  Drawing her between his legs, his fingers trailed over the curve of her hip, across her thigh, slipping up to the petal-smooth flesh he sought. She moaned softly, swaying under his hands. Steadying her, he softly breathed, “So nice of you to come and visit,” in a parody of polite social exchange, while his fingertips stroked the pale velvet of her inner thighs, moving upward with a connoisseur’s skill. Her nipples had risen like jeweled ornaments, and Hazard knew the meaning of those distinct erections. His fingers touched a dewy warmth, and the welcoming heat brought a sheen of perspiration to his body. Embracing her hips, he drew her closer, leaned forward, and kissed her silken curls.

  “No!” Blaze gasped, jerking her hips back, shocked from her passion drenched madness.

  “No?” Gripping her tightly, Hazard looked up and shook his head, shiny black hair brushing sensuously against the whiteness of her thighs. “Don’t say no, bia … that’s not in the contract,” he murmured. “Remember, only yesses, only compliance, only everything I want to do to you.” Against her faint resistance, Hazard firmly moved her back, hard hands shackling her hips, and very slowly thrust his tongue deep into her waiting honeyed warmth. She writhed helplessly against his steely grip, her frantic movement only furthering the progress of his softly caressing tongue. In moments, Hazard forced a shuddering moan from her and quivering she gasped in shallow rapturous sighs.

  “That’s better,” he said gently against the damp, silken curls, but the woman didn’t seem to hear. “I like a bitch in heat,” he added in almost a silent whisper before his tongue touched her sweetness again. Mutually exquisite pleasure poured in torrents through their senses as if floodgates, locked too long, burst open by force. Blaze had never felt a man there, had never known the thrilling excitement Hazard so easily manipulated, was lost in an enchanted wonderland of ecstasy. After long moments, Hazard lifted his head and quietly said, “Look what you’re doing to me.”

  Blaze’s eyes remained shut and he wondered if she had heard him. “Look,” he whispered again, and this time his palms ran sensuously over her taut nipples. Whether prompted by touch or tone, her eyes opened slowly and gazed downward, focusing on the telltale bulge in the soft leather pants. She trembled.

  “I want you, Miss Braddock. You can see that, can’t you?” His voice was liquid flame. “I want to touch you, Miss Braddock … all over. I want to feel your warm skin next to mine.”

  Her mesmerized glance hadn’t shifted from the virile evidence of his need, nor had the stillness of her nude body altered except for a slight shiver. Was she finding it impossible to go on with this after all? Hazard speculated. Regardless of his orders, was bedding an Indian more than she could contemplate despite her easily aroused sensuality; did she have a core of prejudice, unknown even to her benefactor, impeding that final step? He knew her body was ready; the signs were obvious. The deductive conclusion brought his quick temper to crucible heat.

  My God, here was a whore with more scruples than any white woman he’d known. If it wasn’t so detestable, he would have found it amusing. Her fear annoyed him, galled him. He could rape her, of course. No one was going to stop him. And in her profession, surely, it was no novelty. But he’d never raped a woman and, even now in anger, didn’t find the prospect appealing.

  Damn, he didn’t need a woman this badly. Let the slut go back. Drawing in a deep breath to suppress his aching desire, he said, cold temper grating suddenly in his soft voice, “Let’s end this charade. Get dressed and get out. Tell them you tried. I’ve a lot of work to do.”

  Throwing himself back on the bed, he heard a quiet “No.” Casting up elegant brows in surprise, his dark eyes took in the opulent woman with tumbled russet hair falling loose over her pale shoulders, noted the still taut pink peaks with a connoisseur’s eye, saw the small hands clenched into fists at her side.

  Was it some incontrovertible command? Could she not go back down unless she made love to him? Was she afraid of her protector as well as of him? Suddenly she appeared vulnerable and afraid.

  “Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered, then, reaching out, touched her hand. His slender fingers twined gently through hers; he tugged her close. “I’m sorry they’re forcing you to do this. It’s all unnecessary. Really, it is.” The deep, quiet voice was polite, the tone kindly, the substance unimpeachably civilized.

  Blaze Braddock, who prided herself on an undaunted self-control, whose reputation
in Boston society precluded the usual commonplace feminine attributes, mortified, felt the tears begin to gather in her eyes.

  Hazard noted the shiny glisten, saw her mouth begin to quiver, and, swinging his long legs over the side of the cot, pulled her on his lap. “It’s over. Don’t cry,” he soothed, huskily. “They won’t hurt you, don’t worry. They couldn’t have seriously thought this would work anyway.” His hands were gently stroking, as a young boy would comfort a frightened puppy.

  “It’s not that,” said Blaze failingly, under her breath, tears spilling down her cheeks. How could she explain all the tumultuous emotions in her mind or the unutterable sense of losing one’s sanity. It wasn’t any of the mining company officials causing the trembling and tears; she wasn’t afraid of them. What frightened her was the edge of the unknown precipice she was balancing on, the threshold pleasures of love stretching her taut with powerful longings, her wanting this man in a way she’d never known before.

  “What, then? Tell me.” His voice was polite but wary, imbued with the same nuance of reticence which colored all his actions. He was holding her in the warm curve of his chest, his hands soothing absently.

  “It’s too complicated,” Blaze replied with a capitulative sigh, her head dropping to his shoulder, flame hair cascading over his arm. With the gentle sigh, Blaze’s last shred of moral indecision was cast away. She had never felt so wonderful, had never been bathed like this in warm pleasure, had never been consciously aware of each tingling nerve in her body.

  Hazard, hearing the soft sigh, feeling the head touch his shoulder, momentarily tensed. That sigh and gesture were surrender and he knew it. What now? How important was it for him to quench his carnal urges and resist the enticement? Wouldn’t it be simpler to put her clothes back on, push her out the door, and not disturb her essential intentions, which had nothing to do with this woman? But then her warm lips brushed against his throat, a light, tentative caress. For whatever esoteric reason, she had changed her mind. Uncertainty still curbed his reflexes, though, while the byzantine complexities of this situation disciplined his normal libido. This wasn’t simple sex and pleasure. It was orchestrated, brutally bought and paid for. Damn … he didn’t know what to do.

  With a swishing toss of her scented hair, Blaze’s head lifted from his shoulder. Her fingers played lightly over the broad planes of his chest, drifting slowly downward across his torso, hesitantly pausing at his waist where the leather leggings began.

  The world was momentarily arrested.

  Until suddenly her hand slid under the waistband of the leggings to the pulsing maleness straining against the leather, and Hazard drew in a sibilant breath.

  “Kiss me,” Blaze softly breathed, lifting the freshness of her face.

  In an instant, gold, corruption, complexities, all the consequences were measured and dismissed, and he knew exactly what he was going to do. Laying her on the bed, he stood and took off his leggings and moccasins. Untying the sheathed knife, he left it within reach.

  The bed was small and narrow and made for only one person. His strong knee crushed the sheet, and when his full weight was added, the springs protested. The bed shifted slightly on the wooden floor when he moved her beneath him and nudged wide her thighs. His mouth covered hers hungrily, greedily, and while he tasted her sweetness there, his excited manhood pressed against the soaked heat below. Past the point of preliminaries, whatever control he possessed, gone, with one hand he gave the slight guidance needed and was astonished, a moment later, to find his gliding progress into her abruptly curtailed. Impossible, he thought, feeling the gentle movement of her hips under him. He thrust forward again, suffocating in anticipation, and she moaned a little, but he penetrated no further than before. Impossible or not, incredibly, it seemed he had a virgin on his hands. He remained poised motionlessly for a fraction of a shocked second more before numbly collapsing beside her. What had he done to deserve such excruciating frustration, he thought, silently cursing every deity and spirit in the universe.

  “Why did you stop?” Blaze desperately whispered, her hand hot on his arm. She could feel the breath lodged in her throat and, lost in sensation, only knew she must have him.

  His head snapped around and incredulously he exploded, “You’re a virgin!”

  “Is that a sin in your culture?” Her blue eyes were innocently wide, but under the cat’s lashes, they were ardent and fierce with wanting.

  “No,” he quietly replied, thinking how freely Crow tradition dealt with making love.

  She moved her hips, an exquisite motion as old as time, and murmured. “Well? …”

  “Godalmighty,” he said, lust surging through him. “Where in blazes did they find you?” With all the single men in Montana, he didn’t think there was a virgin left.

  “I’m from Boston,” she softly replied. “Is that all right?” And she reached out for him, wanting to touch the man who ignited the fires smoldering deep inside her.

  He arched away from her. “How the hell old are you?” he suspiciously asked, trying unsuccessfully to avoid looking at her, inviting and accessible, her red-gold hair spilling across his pillow. Although she had the body of a woman … good Lord, a virgin? She mustn’t be very old.

  “Old enough,” Blaze whispered, her hand sliding down Hazard’s arm, moving across to his hip. She desperately wanted him and she had never failed to get what she wanted.

  His fingers gripped her wrist and stopped her. “Give me an answer, damn you.”

  “Nineteen.” Old enough, his aching manhood said. Old enough, his hungry passion echoed. I thought you didn’t like virgins, his dark spirit of reason insinuated, and furthermore—

  Blaze stretched up to nibble at his lips, eradicating any practicalities after “furthermore.” Her warm tongue languidly intruded into his mouth and his fingers uncurled from her wrist. He groaned, grasping her hard by the shoulders, knowing he should resist—and, in the next wild beat of his heart, knowing the time for resistance was past. With the feeling of being swept inexorably toward a whirlpool, he said in a soft whisper, leashed tight with restraint, “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, her face only inches from his, her eyes so hot he could feel the heat spiral out.

  “I hope I’m not going to regret this,” he breathed, rolling over her. Here, he decided, directly under his furiously aroused body, was someone’s spoiled darling intent on tasting exotic forbidden fruit, and after having given her three chances to leave, damned if he wasn’t willing to grant her her spoiled wish. Casting aside any responsibility or conscience due largely to a sexual appetite tantalized one step too far by the tantalizing Miss Braddock, Jon Hazard Black decided there were things in life that must run their course, and he set about to do what he did exceedingly well.

  Her breathless young eagerness was his for the taking. He thrust forward, neither brutal nor gentle, but determined. She screamed, breathless and startled. And it was over. Hazard’s lips soothed her cry with tender kisses; he murmured comfortingly in the soft cadence of his people’s language, staying immobile while the love words washed over her. After the consoling pause, he began moving gently inside her, pampering, coddling, progressing slow inches at a time, withdrawing carefully, beginning again, until she welcomed him, genially. And no longer wanted to relinquish him. The virginal Miss Braddock was emitting soft moans and small sighs of pleasure now, encouraging his progress with intuitive understanding and tenacious hands. “It doesn’t hurt now?” Hazard murmured near her ear.

  “Is it always this good?” she replied in a sighing whisper, her lips brushing his in a lazy incitement.

  His question answered, he withdrew enough to indulge her sense of “goodness” again, and then again, and … again, until very soon her appetite shifted voluptuously. There was no further timidity or shyness or uncertainty, she clung to him now, melted around him, undulated her slender hips to lure him more deeply. Obliging her, he drove in slowly, surely. Eagerly matching his rhythm, arching high in passio
n to meet him, predaceous suddenly in her wanting, within minutes she was shattering him into bits. In her startling desire, she was erotic, wild, unrestrained as a forest fire. Their mating was unladylike, ungentlemanly; it was breathless, fierce, tumbling, falling, hurtling, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. When he touched her and she touched him, it was as if the world fell away and only reckless, insatiable desire remained. And at the last, when he sensed the intense abandon peaking, when he felt her first small convulsion begin, he poured in to meet her with tremendous, pulsing spasms.

  Seconds later, resting his weight on his elbows, bathed in perspiration, panting, he regained enough breath to speak. “B-icu bia [a song of a woman],” he whispered, lightly kissing her flushed cheeks. Although he was empty, his arousal, burning fitfully, hadn’t lost its need for her. Inactive, but rigid still, it rested inside her tight virginal passage. Blaze stirred a little and reached up a hand to touch his face. Without speaking, her eyes dreamy, she traced a delicate finger down his firm cheek and sighed contentedly. Then her hands slid down his back, pulling him deeper and the face she lifted to him wore a luxurious half-smile. “I want more,” she impudently demanded, grown confident in her own powers.

  “Don’t you know,” he replied with his own half-smile, “most men aren’t as resilient as women?”

  “I can feel you, though. You’re not most men, are you?” The throaty contralto purred like a lioness. “I want you now.”

  “It doesn’t always react to commands, Miss Braddock. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

  Limpid eyes calmly appraised him. “Teach me,” she whispered, and lifted her mouth to his. It was a hungry, aggressive, intrusive kiss, and in the course of the next hour, they consummated their volatile passion like young animals, sometimes with insatiable fury, sometimes with sweet tenderness, always, for Hazard, with the piquant, critical attentions of the connoisseur. The glowing, spirited woman in his arms crested each time with great wildness and abandon until at last she was content.