Her Sky Cowboy Part 12

"It would seem he has a magical touch. Do you know my leg feels fully healed?" she went on as he hurried her through the darkened pa.s.sage way. "No discomfort at all. So soon. How can that be? How-"

"Consider yourself lucky."

"Yes, but..." She tried to shake off his hold, then peered over her shoulder. "Why the urgency?" she asked in a breathless voice. "Do you think Captain Dunkirk will come after us?"

"Safe bet." He squeezed her waist. "I've got something he wants."

"But you set his airship afire."

"Storm put out the flames. Trust me: He'll rally. Did you tell him what he wanted to know?"

"What?"

"The location of the treasure."

"Do I look vapid?"

"Don't ask me what you look like just now, Amelia." He steered her into his cabin and slammed the door. Wanting the Maverick to remain as invisible as possible, he opted for a kerosene lantern over an electric lamp. The soft glow illuminated the pet.i.te woman in all her tantalizing splendor. Windblown waist-length curls. Flushed cheeks. A silk-and-lace gown that left little to the imagination. Full hips, small waist, delectable b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Face of an angel, body of a G.o.ddess. "Christ."

She crossed her arms, trying to hide her bountiful bosom. It didn't help. Angry now, she stiffened her spine, which only heaved the pale globes higher. "Don't look at me like that," she huffed.

"Then take off that d.a.m.ned dress."

"What?"

He wrenched off his coat and flight cap. "Take it off or I'll rip it off."

She gasped. "What is wrong with you, Mr. Gentry?"

"You're what's wrong with me, Miss Darcy." He whirled and pinned her against the wall. Volatile emotions walloped calm thinking: jealousy, possessiveness, desire. Add to that the lingering adrenaline from attacking Dunkirk and the Flying Shark solo.

This was bad.

Walk away. Clear out.

He stood his ground. "Have you no shame?"

She blanched. "If wearing this hideous gown meant getting the upper hand with Captain Dunkirk, then it seemed a small price to pay."

"You thought to manipulate Colin Dunkirk?"

"I...Well, yes."

"The way you manipulated me? By playing a part?"

"Excuse me?"

"With me you were the damsel in distress. The feisty virgin in desperate need of pa.s.sage to Italy to see your dying grandpap."

"Yes, well..."

"With him a saucy treasure hunter in desperate need of reaching Italy to obtain hidden riches." He leaned in, lowered his voice, and grazed her ear with his mouth. "How far were you willing to go, Flygirl?"

"Of all the..." She placed her palms on his shoulders and shoved.

He easily resisted, though there was surprising muscle behind that push. Point taken, he allowed her some breathing s.p.a.ce.

In grat.i.tude, she swung out and slapped his face.

d.a.m.n.

"You're the one who allowed that scoundrel to kidnap me," she railed. "You said I was bad luck. 'Good riddance.'"

"Tactical call." He braced his hands on his hips and glared. "If you would have stayed in this cabin like I told you-"

"The thought of hiding whilst you and your men faced peril was unacceptable. I had Papa's gun. I thought maybe...I wanted to help. Silly me," she added in a mocking tone.

Tuck dragged a hand through his hair. She sounded so earnest. This woman tied his senses in knots so he didn't know up from down. Only one thing was sure and certain: When given the option, she'd chosen him over Dunkirk. "You didn't actually think I'd leave you at the mercy of air pirates?"

Still furious, she threw up her hands in frustration. "I do not know what you are capable of, remember? From your words and actions I a.s.sumed you'd rather the pirates abscond with me than your illegal cargo. Then I saw...I heard...I thought Leo had been shot after you promised to keep him safe."

"You thought I betrayed you, so you sought to get even by sleeping with Dunkirk?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I was striking a bargain."

"A roll in the hay for safe pa.s.sage to Italy?"

She swung out again; only this time Tuck caught her wrists. She kicked and thrashed and, dammit, nearly clipped his family jewels. Patience spent, he wrestled her to the bed. Pinning her arms over her head, he looked hard into those furious blue eyes. "You can't bargain with a man like Colin Dunkirk, Amelia."

Chest heaving, she looked away. "I know that now. I misjudged. I thought...That is, you are an outlaw and I trusted you. I...I felt safe."

This was worse than bad. l.u.s.t and affection la.s.soed his being, hog-tied logic and propriety. His gaze skimmed the blush of her cheek, the curve of her jaw, the length of her neck, the swell of her...

Christ.

He struggled to be a gentleman, even though he was no longer convinced she was chaste. "We're both outlaws, true. The difference is, I won't take what isn't willingly offered or honestly earned."

She slowly turned and met his gaze. "Meaning?"

"I won't seduce you with dinner and wine. I won't make promises or offers or bargains. I'll tell you straight up: I want you, Amelia. Naked and writhing beneath me. I want to kiss you senseless, make you tremble with desire. But I won't make a move unless you ask. Way I see it, given the natural pull between us, it's only a matter of time." He stroked his thumbs over the insides of her wrists, pressed his erection against her silky skirts. Flee or soar, Flygirl? "Still feel safe?"

She reared up and kissed him-a closemouthed kiss that sent a shock of l.u.s.t to his already throbbing shaft. Well, h.e.l.l. He nipped her lower lip; she nipped back. He suckled; she suckled. He sensed inexperience, yet a pa.s.sion that would scorch the ocean dry. A heartbeat later she dropped her head back and stared up with blatant desire.

"That your way of askin', Miss Darcy?"

"Are you deaf, Mr. Gentry?"

"You're playing with fire."

"I live for adventure."

"I can't give you forever."

"Thank G.o.d."

Amelia held her breath as Tucker flipped her over and unlaced the bodice. Somewhere between being seduced by a pirate and rescued by a cowboy, Amelia had decided she would lose her virginity to the man of her choice. At the moment of her choosing. She chose Tucker Gentry, and she chose now.

Never had she craved a man's touch such as she craved Tucker's. His hands upon her flesh as he slid the capped sleeves from her shoulders set her entire body afire. Years of hero worship combined with spontaneous combustible desire obliterated inhibitions and rational thought. The longer he took to rid her of the abominable gown, the tighter the sensuous coil in her stomach. "What is taking you so long, sir?"

"Savoring the moment, miss."

Bothersome, that. She didn't want slow-all the more time to lose her nerve. Unpracticed in the art of seduction, she expedited the matter by getting straight to the point. "I am not naked. Nor am I writhing," she said, jerking up so that he rolled aside. "Allow me to help you with the first portion." Now that he'd loosened the laces, she easily wiggled out of the bodice. "What are you waiting for?" she asked whilst shimmying out of the skirts. "Take off your clothes."

She didn't stop to think or look, for fear she would grow skittish. She simply continued to disrobe, sitting on the edge of her bed in her skimpy bloomers and chemise in order to unlace her boots.

"What, no dainty slippers?"

"I had to draw the line somewhere." Dunkirk had supplied a pair of delicate red satin slippers, but they were too small. Much like the ridiculous gown, though, she had not been able to squeeze her feet into those narrow, k.n.o.bby-heeled shoes. She hadn't cared at the time, but just now her clunky boots made her feel like a big-footed clod. Striving to connect with her feminine side, she tossed her long curls over her shoulders and glanced at Tucker. The hungry look in his eyes cast her heart aflutter with dread and antic.i.p.ation.

Quelling a whisper of panic, she gestured to his still-clothed body. "Must I do everything?" Seduction was not her forte, shrinking violet not her style. Amelia grasped two handfuls of Tucker's ebony shirt and yanked it over his head. Before she could fully enjoy the astounding view of his muscled torso, he nabbed her and flipped her onto the bed.

"Anxious, are you?" he asked with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Quite." She wrestled off his trousers. Her heart hammered. Good Lord. He resembled an exquisitely chiseled statue-corded sinew, etched perfection. And his member-so large and rigid.

Her womanhood pulsed whilst her brain scrambled. She'd overheard t.i.tillating gossip and read a scientific piece on the mating rituals of animals. She had two older brothers who spoke frankly when unaware of her presence. Amelia knew the basics of lovemaking. She knew what went where, but, b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, how?

Then suddenly Tucker was on top of her, kissing her, urging her to open her mouth. Thoughts blurred as his tongue plundered and suckled, as his hands pushed under her chemise and smoothed over her quivering stomach. She gasped as his fingers brushed her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then moaned as he ridded her of her bloomers, spread her legs, and skimmed her slick womanhood.

She was, she conceded in dazed euphoria, out of her element.

He smiled against her cheek. "Anxious and ready."

She cupped his devilishly handsome face and kissed him, wanting him to shut up and hurry. As he'd wished, she was trembling with desire. She ached with wants and needs, yet knew not what precisely to ask for. She'd never been one for trial runs or cautious advance. Just like the first time she'd pedaled Bess off the end of a dangerously high ramp, she simply wanted to fly. Delirious from Tucker's kisses, she barely registered the moment the tip of his shaft grazed her folds. But then she felt a painful intrusion.

She tensed and he froze.

"Good Christ, you are an innocent." Before he could retreat, she grasped his b.u.t.tocks and pulled him down whilst pushing her hips up and..."Oh!"

"Easy, darlin'." He dropped his forehead to hers, breath labored, voice gruff. "No turning back now."

She adjusted to the strange and wondrous intrusion. "I...I do not wish to turn back. I want...I want..." Something she could not describe.

He withdrew ever so slightly, then eased back in. He brushed his mouth over her forehead, her cheeks-soothing, enticing. "Relax, Amelia. Give yourself over and let me do the rest."

She breathed, nodded. Astonishing, but she was actually thankful for his vast experience in this matter. She gave over, relished the feel of his strong hands stroking and caressing as he slowly moved within. Pain soon gave way to a sensual friction, and then delicious sensations that rolled ever so slowly throughout her being. She gripped his shoulders, body quaking, pulse pounding. "I can't breathe."

"Let go." He quickened his pace, the pressure. His fingers stroked, kneaded. "Come for me, Amelia. Come with me."

She moaned, arched. Excitement surged as she edged toward the unknown.

"Let go and soar." He coaxed her with a searing kiss, shattered her control.

Oh, the sensations!

She screamed his name-chest aching, muscles burning. White light exploded behind her closed lids, breaking apart into a zillion twinkling lights. "Stars," she whispered as she felt Tucker tumbling after her. Dazed and delirious, she said nothing as he rolled aside with a colorful curse, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. Her body tingled and her brain buzzed in the sensual fallout. Without a flying contraption of any sort, including a Pegasus, Tucker Gentry had shown her the stars.

CHAPTER 12.

Tuck lay silent as he warred with his conscience. As his body recovered from an explosive climax that had left him light-headed and bleary eyed. He hadn't been that quick on the draw since he was fifteen, when he'd lost his virginity to Wanda Mae, a local dove with a fondness for breaking in young bucks. An expert in her field, the buxom beauty had brought him back around in a matter of minutes and then taught him a few lessons on stamina that he'd cultivated over the years. Tuck took a lot of pride in pleasuring a woman thoroughly before indulging in his own release.

That had not been the case with Amelia.

Her kisses alone made him randy as a bull. Then when she'd stripped...he hadn't expected that. Nor had he expected to be aroused by the sight of her cotton unmentionables paired with thick striped socks and mannish boots. The way she'd barked orders and tugged off his shirt, he'd abandoned his a.s.sumption that she was chaste. Unrefined in the art of lovemaking, but not innocent. She'd been so d.a.m.ned slick with want, he hadn't paid attention to how tight she was until he'd felt resistance. In the moment his mind screamed, Retreat, she'd robbed him of the chance. He wanted to thrash her for putting him in the d.a.m.nable position of having to behave like the b.a.s.t.a.r.d that half the world believed him to be. An honorable man would offer marriage. Under normal circ.u.mstances, even though he felt somewhat duped, he would've done the right thing. But Tuck's circ.u.mstances were far from normal. By manipulating the carnal alliance, Amelia had tainted her reputation and hammered his conscience. At the same time, he felt primal jubilance in being her first. That said and considered, her first time was all wrong.

Now she was curled alongside him in his arms, limbs heavy from exhaustion. He could feel the rapid pounding of her heart and her uneven breathing. He could not, however, guess her thoughts.

"You misled me, Amelia."

She stiffened, her soft curls tickling his nose as she dipped her head into the crook of his shoulder, angling her face from view. "It seemed unwise to admit to an outlaw that I was in pursuit of a great treasure," she grumbled into his collarbone. "How could I trust you wouldn't steal it from me?"

"I'm not talking about the treasure right now, although that is another bone of contention." He grasped her chin and gently drew her attention. When her dazzling blue eyes locked with his, he had to temper his pulse all over again. "Between your aggressiveness and nonchalance you intimated you were an experienced woman."

"I did not say one way or another, and you did not ask. What you chose to believe is not my fault."

Fair enough. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

She lowered her lashes, though she didn't pull away. He a.s.sumed she felt awkward now, naked but for her skimpy chemise. "Previously lovemaking held no interest for me. Tonight it did. You make me..." She breathed, sighed. "You inspire vexing yet thrilling yearnings. I wanted to experience, to explore. I refuse to feel bad."

"I'm not asking you to feel bad, darlin'. Just trying to understand."

"What if there is no tomorrow?" she asked in a quiet voice.

He frowned down at the top of her head. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "I could have perished in the kitecycle crash or at the hands of Dunkirk. I could have jumped for Peg and missed, plummeting hundreds of miles to the earth. If tomorrow never comes I wish to die with no regrets. No missed opportunities."