tried to get closer, tried to burrow beneath his flesh.
“You haven’t come to me, Rafer,” she panted roughly. “I waited.”
“I waited for you, baby,” he whispered. “You didn’t call. I won’t beg you every time we come together.”
“Do you want me to beg?” She was so ready to beg.
She could beg so easily if that was that he wanted her to do.
“No, I want you to dance with me, Cami.”
Her hands tightened on his shoulders.
He wasn’t going to make this easier for her, was he? It would be all or nothing. And didn’t he deserve it?
All his life he’d been pushed to the back, told he didn’t deserve the same things other men deserved, and each time he entered Corbin County he became a secondary citizen.
And he wasn’t.
In so many ways, Rafer deserved so much more than others in this county could ever deserve.
He drew back to stare down at her, his eyes meeting hers, demand darkening them and tightening the fingers that clenched her hips.
She laid her head on his chest, feeling one broad hand move from her hip to the back of her head, his fingers threading through the short strands of her hair. Closing her eyes, she tried to soak in the warmth and confidence that was so much a part of him.
“Let you claim me,” she whispered, knowing what he was demanding.
“Deny you belong to me, Cami.” He sounded uncompromising yet incredibly gentle, even understanding. He knew what he was asking of her, knew what it could possibly result in, and still he was demanding it.
She fought the emotions rising inside her, her face tightening, clenching with the effort it took to hold back the instinctive objection to everything he wanted.
She swallowed tightly. “I can’t belong—” But she wanted to. She wanted to so badly that the need throbbed through her veins and pulsed through her clit. It wasn’t just a sexual need or a sensual pleasure. “I can dance with you,” she dragged in a harsh breath.
The need was a hunger to be close to him, to allow the intimacy of a dance to pull them together. It would hold them and allow them to claim each other in public. He would do it in full view of not just their enemies but also the threatening caller that who finally called that evening as she made her way to the town square.
And this time, the threat had been more explicit.
Rafe tensed against her.
Oh, she wasn’t going to do this.
Rafe stared down at her, calculating the best way to stake his claim. To impress upon her, and every man who would lust after her, that she was his. Convince her clear to her soul, that she was his. That no other man would touch her, no matter what, no matter where.
And there was only one way to effectively do that. To claim her, to mark her in a way everyone would damned well understand.
She was a stubborn woman and she had it in her head that she wasn’t going to allow any kind of public claim. That she was either not risking her heart, or not risking her pride by being publicly claimed by a Callahan. He had to admit, at this point, he wasn’t certain which it was. But he did know what he had seen moments before. Another man trying to touch her, to take her, to claim her.
Cami’s reputation as a woman without a claim was coming to an end, and it was coming to an end tonight.
Lowering his head, nearly nose to nose with her, Rafe felt his teeth pull back in a primal snarl.
“Be very, very careful,” he warned her, his voice rough, hoarse. “I saw that bastard touching you, Cami. I saw his hand on you and I saw his invitation to you, to dance.”
Her eyes widened, her lips parted.
“Don’t.” He laid his finger against her lips. “No objections. Don’t even bother arguing. Trust me, Cami. To the bottom of your soul trust this: If I see another man touch you, see him lay his hand on you, then I swear to you I’ll break his hand. And God help us all if you agree to dance with any man other than me!”
Shock resounded through her.
The sound of his voice, the warning, the fury that glittered in his eyes, had trepidation surging through her even as he jerked her closer. His fingers tangled in the hair at the back of her head, pulled her head back, and his lips covered hers.
It was like pouring gasoline on fire.
Barely banked on a good day, the hunger suddenly flamed, raged through her, and stole her control. Her hands buried themselves in his overly long hair, tangled in it, and pulled him closer. Like roughened velvet his lips rubbed over hers, slanted, his tongue meeting hers desperately.
She tasted him. Male heat and flaming hunger. There was a hint of the beer he must have drunk earlier, and that smokey wine taste of his cigar. Just a hint of it. Just enough to make her long for more, to have her reaching to get closer, to taste the kiss deeper.
What was she doing?
She moaned in need. She was aching for him. The ache was becoming more intense by the night, the hunger to just have him near tearing at her.
His fingers clenched at her hip and in her hair as a male groan muted and filled Rafer with a need for her that was nearly intoxicating by itself.
She had never been wanted as Rafer wanted her. She had never been kissed, tasted, and touched as Rafer touched her.
And she had never ached for another man as she ached for Rafer.
She was shocked as he pulled back, but she didn’t fight as he wrapped his arm around her back and led her the short distance to the edge of the dance area.
She didn’t care at that point who watched, who saw. She didn’t care what they saw.
She could feel the hard, thick wedge of his cock pressing against her lower belly between their clothes. Suddenly, she wasn’t chilled any longer, she was warm. No, she wasn’t warm, she was hot. Blazing. Fiery.
She could have melted ice as she stared up at him.
The flame of hunger in his gaze sank inside her. It washed over the places in her soul that she wanted to remain hidden, that she wanted to remain chilled.
She didn’t want to thaw. She didn’t want to feel the additional ache, the loss, the hungry need that went so far beyond the sexual.
But that was exactly what she felt.
As he moved her across the dance floor, held her in his arms, and claimed her to everyone willing to see, Cami felt that part of her soul open and come alive.
Rafe watched the crowd.
With his head bent over Cami’s, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip, he felt her melt against him.
She was accepting him. He could feel that acceptance to the bottom of his soul. And in doing so, she was accepting the claim he made on her.
With his gaze locked across the dance floor on Marshal Roberts, he stared back at his supposed grandfather with a fiery rage and unbidden fury he’d never been able to quench.
Until the old man turned away, replaced the western hat he invariably wore, and walked away.
He didn’t know what the old bastard was up to, but he would find out. There were a lot of things he intended to have answers to very, very soon.
Until then, he had Cami in his arms. Slow dancing, swaying, holding her as close to him as two people could get.
Until the music ended.
Cami found herself back where they had started, sheltered within the small grotto, staring up at Rafer as he stepped away from her.
A second later, she was free.
Trembling, struggling to stand upright on the five-inch heels as he steadied her, but only for a second, before
