But this time Willow couldn’t speak at all, for Caleb’s teeth had closed on her nape in a tender, fierce caress that made thought impossible. She closed her eyes and tried not to cry out with the surprise and pleasure coiling through her, tightening her whole body. When his fingers closed delicately on her nipple, plucking the taut flesh, she moaned.
«Now I see what the problem is,» Caleb said, propping himself on his elbow so that he could look over Willow’s shoulder.
«What?» she whispered.
«This.» His hand flexed beneath her clothes and her back arched. «See? We’re all tangled in your clothes. Lie still, honey. I’ll get us free.»
Holding her breath and blushing, Willow watched Caleb with smoky hazel eyes and waited. His hand moved beneath the flannel, cupping all of her breast while his thumb drew lazy circles around her nipple. Her whole body stiffened.
«Easy, honey,» he murmured. «Am I hurting you?»
Willow made an odd sound at the back of her throat when his thumb rubbed the hard peak of her breast. He smiled and rubbed again, loving the velvet hardness that rose so eagerly to his touch.
«Almost free,» Caleb said. Slowly, he shifted Willow onto her back, caressing her with slow sweeps of his thumb. «Gently, honey, just a little more and you’ll be free. Shift your shoulder a little. Yes, like that. Now take a slow, deep breath. That’s it.» A shudder ran through his body as he looked down at her uncovered breast. «God, you’re beautiful, as perfect as a rosebud.»
Caleb bent down to Willow’s breast, turning his head slowly from side to side, letting the coarse silk of his beard caress her soft flesh, tightening her nipple even more. She gasped and grabbed his head.
«Yes,» he said thickly. «Show me what you want.»
Shocked and embarrassed, she tried to tug his head away, but her motions caused her erect nipple to brush against his lips.
«Yes,» he said. «That’s what I want, too.»
Caleb took the tip of Willow’s breast into his mouth as his hands tightened, making it impossible for her to move away while he caressed her with tongue and teeth. A strange, wild sensation speared through Willow, drawing a choked cry from her.
«Honey?» Caleb asked huskily, looking up. «Did I hurt you?»
«We shouldn’t — shouldn’t be doing this.»
Caleb closed his eyes and fought the denial surging through him, a denial as fierce as the hunger he had for the girl whose breast lay against his lips.
«Did I hurt you?» he asked again.
As he spoke, he blew on the nipple that was still glistening from his mouth. The soft rush of air over Willow’s breast made her stomach tighten. Her hips moved in a reflexive response she didn’t understand.
Caleb did.
«Tell me, Willow.» He kissed the tight rosebud he had drawn from her breast. «Did I hurt you?»
Willow tried to speak but couldn’t. She shook her head.
«Did you like it?» he asked.
Heat suffused her face. She turned her head against his chest, hiding from him.
Very gently, Caleb smoothed his bearded cheek over her breast once more before he turned away, not certain if his discipline would stand against the sight of her bare, soft breast nestled between buckskin folds, her nipple hard and rosy with the heat of his mouth.
«It’s all right, honey. I won’t force you.»
Caleb got up and went to the fire. After a few minutes, Willow joined him. They ate breakfast in a silence that wasn’t quite uncomfortable. He didn’t mention the morning intimacy of the bed. Nor would he let her talk about it. He was afraid she would try to refuse him the honey and cream of her body in the future. He wouldn’t — couldn’t — let that happen.
Shy, wary little trout. It’s been so long since she has felt a man’s touch. All I need is patience and she’ll swim right into my hands. I’ve always been told I’m a patient man. Why is it so hard to be patient with her?
Why is it so hard, period? Calebasked himselfimpatiently. I’llbe lucky to stand up straight all day.
Willow watched Caleb shyly from beneath her lashes as he moved around the camp, putting the supplies back into pack sacks, checking cinches and headstalls, making certain that the long ride hadn’t frayed anything other than flesh and bone. When he walked out into the meadow with a new bag of grain, she went beside him.
A whistle brought Trey trotting and Deuce limping up for inspection. Caleb poured out two mounds of grain and worked over his horses while they ate, checking hooves and hide for damage, talking soothingly the whole time, praising his horses’ stamina and gentle temper. Willow watched, fascinated by Caleb’s easy strength and masculine grace. The restraint and precision of his hands also fascinated her. He was so gentle that Deuce didn’t even flinch when his wound was checked, yet Caleb did a thorough job of inspection.
«Still clean,» Caleb said quietly. He stroked the horse’s muscular shoulder, feeling the roughness of hair where lather had run and dried more than once. «I’d groom you, boy, but I suspect you would rather be left alone for a day or two. Don’t blame you a bit. That was one hell of a trail.»
One of the mares caught the scent of grain on the wind and trotted up, nickering softly. Caleb smiled and tugged gently on her forelock.
«Hello, Penny. Feeling better after a night of eating?» he asked.
Penny nudged the grain sack pointedly.
Willow laughed. «Quit torturing her. She knows what’s waiting for her.»
Caleb gave Willow a sideways look and a slow smile.
«Waiting just makes it better, didn’t you know?»
Wisely, Willow kept her mouth shut, but nothing she did could conceal her blush. She shivered as she recalled the passion she had tasted that morning.
Ishmael cantered across the valley toward them. His ears were erect, his stride easy and even, his body supple.
«He looks good,» Caleb said.
«He’s breathing a bit too hard.»
«Altitude. He’ll be fine in a week or two.»
«It’s getting from here to there that bothers me,» Willow admitted, sighing and rubbing her temples.
Caleb began pouring out more mounds of grain as the Arabians closed in, lured by the rich aroma.
«We’ll take it easy until you’re used to the altitude,» he said.
«Only twelve hours a day on the trail instead of eighteen?» Willow muttered beneath her breath.
But Caleb heard. His hearing was as acute as a deer’s. He glanced up and saw Willow standing with her eyes closed, rubbing her temples. He shook out a few more kernels of grain, tied the top with a leather thong, and set the burlap bag aside before he went back to Willow.
«Headache?» he asked quietly.
She lowered her hands almost guiltily. «Just a little. It’s much better than it was in the pass.»
«Here. Let me.»
Whatever objections Willow might have had vanished at the slow, circular motion of Caleb’s thumbs on her temples.
«Relax if you can,» he said. «The tighter your muscles are, the more it hurts.»
Willow made a small sound that was more an expression of enjoyment than a word as Caleb slid his fingers over her head and massaged her scalp, loosening knots she didn’t even know she had. Strong, gentle, skillful, his hands rubbed away pain until she sagged with relief. With small pressures of his fingertips, he urged her closer until she was all but leaning against him. Her forehead dipped farther and farther, finally coming to rest against his breastbone.
Belatedly, Willow realized that Caleb had opened his shirt against the heat of the mountain sun. Her forehead was resting on his bare, warm flesh. The dark thatch of hair on his chest tickled her nose and mouth. When she breathed in, the scent of wool shirt and horse and man filled her senses. She sighed and rubbed her face against him, liking the feel of his masculine textures on her cheek.
