«Yes.» Her head moved again, but this time it was her mouth that caressed him rather than her cheek. «Did you not bathe in me?»
Wolfe groaned something in Cheyenne as his whole body clenched.
«You are very hard, my Wolfe.»
The sound he made wasn’t recognizable as a word, which was just as well. He was certain the word would have shocked her.
«You’re very warm,» she whispered, testing his heat with the tip of her tongue.
«You are a tease,» he said in a thick voice.
«Am I? Your blood is running heavily. I can feel it.» Jessica trembled with the answering rush of her own blood. «It beats more fiercely here than in your neck.»
Wolfe didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He had never imagined how violently exciting it might be to experience his body through Jessica’s eyes, her hands, her words.
Then the gentle, curious, incendiary heat of her mouth discovered him. With a murmuring sound of pleasure and surprise, she surrounded him. Wolfe’s fingers clenched deeply in the covers as a wave of unspeakable pleasure exploded through him. He fought to control the wild pulses of his release, but even as he fought he knew he would quickly lose.
Wolfe barely had enough strength to drag Jessica back up his body and bury his tongue in her mouth. Then he tasted himself and her and groaned as though he were being torn apart.
The leap and shudder of his flesh beneath her hand awed Jessica. She felt the spreading, silky heat of Wolfe’s fulfillment and knew that she was touching the beginning of life itself. She returned his kiss fiercely, wishing that life within her.
«I didn’t mean to shock you like that,» he said when he could draw a whole breath again. «When you kissed me so intimately, I all but lost control.»
«You didn’t shock me.»
«Bloody hell I didn’t. You tasted me.»
«Yes,» Jessica whispered. «That was the best of all. You taste like tears, only more silky and mysterious.»
Her words went through Wolfe like dawn through night, transforming and renewing him in the space of a single rushing breath.
«You’re going to be the death of me, elf,» Wolfe said huskily, rolling over until he had Jessica caged between his body and the bed. «But first, I’m going to be the death of you.»
Jessica didn’t understand until she felt Wolfe’s mouth on her breast and his hand sliding down her body to seek the scented petals of the flower that opened only for him. She was already sleek, sultry, hungry, for pleasuring him had aroused her. The first brush of his fingers made her gasp. The second made her cry out. The third sent a silky heat spreading between them.
The fourth sent her to the sun.
16
Although Wolfe’s expression had been rather grim when he came in from outdoors, the sight of his wife spooning chili into a big serving bowl made him pause. The slow, very male smile he gave her as he peeled off his leather work gloves told Jessica that he was remembering what had happened between them in the hushed silence of dawn three days ago — and every night since.
As Wolfe took the big bowl from Jessica, he slid the palms of his hands over the back of her fingers. Because there were other people nearby, he didn’t bend to take her soft mouth in a kiss. But he wanted to, and the catch in her breathing when his palms touched her skin told Wolfe that Jessica wanted the kiss as much as he did.
«How’s the little man doing?» Wolfe asked Willow, turning away from the temptation of Jessica’s mouth.
Willow looked up from the shallow basin where she was carefully bathing the baby, who seemed to be enjoying the warm water and his mother’s touch.
«Ethan Caleb Black is doing wonderfully well,» Willow said, smiling.
«Ethan, huh? You finally decided.»
«It was Caleb’s father’s name.»
«Big shoes for the little one to fill,» Wolfe said. He looked appraisingly at Willow. «Are you sure you should be up and working so soon?»
«Lying in bed is for people who are sick. I’m not.»
Frowning, Jessica looked up from the pan of cornbread that was staying warm near the stove.
«In England, the women stay in confinement for several weeks after giving birth,» Jessica pointed out.
«Figures,» Wolfe said. His voice was rich with disgust for the aristocrats of Great Britain. «The whole lot of them is as useless as teats on a boar hog.»
All Willow said was, «The longer you stay in bed, the weaker you are when you get up.»
«You look tired,» Jessica persisted.
«I’ve been a lot more tired. Ask Caleb.» She picked up Ethan and wrapped his bottom in a soft cotton diaper as she continued talking. «Ethan and I had a nice long nap this morning, didn’t we, button? And after lunch, we’re going to have another one.»
Wolfe shook his head, but it was in admiration rather than disagreement. «And here I thought that Cheyenne women were tough. Caleb must have been standing under a whole sky full of lucky stars the day he found you.»
Jessica bent over the pan of cornbread, rearranging the clean cotton towel so that no warmth could escape. The fussing wasn’t necessary, but it gave her an excuse to hide her face until she was certain that none of the hurt she felt at Wolfe’s comments would show in her expression. Even knowing that he hadn’t meant his words as a backhanded slap didn’t remove the sting of them.
She had begun to hope that he was accepting their marriage. Since the night when Wolfe had discovered the source of her fear of men, marriage, and childbirth, he had been the affectionate companion of old. He had also been a restrained, generous teacher of the ancient arts of sensuality.
But now Jessica realized Wolfe hadn’t accepted her as his wife. Nor was he likely to do so. His contempt for the aristocracy was as deep in him as his blood.
Jessica had been born into that aristocracy. Wolfe never forgot that, not even when in the grip of a passion for her that made him shake. It was why, after three nights of the most intense sensual explorations, Jessica was still a virgin. She was born of the aristocracy, which made her the kind of woman with whom Wolfe might play sensuous games, but not the kind of woman he thought was fit to be his true mate.
The wind flexed against the house, testing its strength and reminding the men inside of what awaited them after they had eaten. A faint scratching sound came from the windows, particles of ice or grit flung against the glass by the strengthening wind. As one, the men stopped eating and exchanged wary looks.
Without a word, Wolfe stood and went to the back door. Ignoring the ice-tipped wind, he walked away from the house until he had a clear view of the sky around the mountain peaks. The air had an odd sheen to it. The wind was alive, potent, and smelled of winter.
Although it was barely noon, the elemental harmonies of wolf packs on the prowl shivered through the forest.
Motionless, silent, Wolfe stood and absorbed all the subtle messages of sky and earth, wind, and wildlife. When he turned and came back inside, his face was impassive and his eyes were bleak.
Caleb watched Wolfe sit down. «Well?» he asked softly.
Wolfe hesitated, then shrugged. The truth would come on the wind no matter what was said or not said now.
«It’s making up to snow.»
Caleb muttered something Jessica chose not to overhear. Quietly she set down another pan of warm
