Page 24 of The Copper Heir (The Gilded West #1)

Chapter Eleven

“ N o, we’re not finished talking.”

“Yes, we are. You ran from me. You led me on a wild chase and, what’s worse, you left yourself vulnerable to ruthless men who would hurt you.

” He ran a hand through his drying hair in agitation and his fingers shook slightly.

It was the first time she realized exactly how furious she had made him by running, but, instead of scaring her, the knowledge sent an inexplicable thrill of desire through her belly.

“So you see, I can’t decide if I should throw you over the bed and spank you, or throw you over the bed and take you because you’ve been looking at me like that’s exactly what you want and I can’t get it out of my head that I bought you. ”

She slapped him. It was a reflex that happened before she could stop it or even question it. The crack of skin on skin filled the room, drowning out everything else until it faded away leaving only the tense weight of silence.

Touching the imprint of her hand on his cheek, he shook his head, a low laugh escaping him. “Damn, but you’re not making it an easy choice.”

She let out a shaky breath, half-sigh, half-groan, as she realized in his answer exactly what she had done.

She hadn’t slapped him because he’d offended her, though he had, she’d slapped him to prove to herself once and for all that he was just like those horrible men Ship brought home with him.

None of them had ever struck her, but only because she had never pushed them that far.

If she had slapped them, they wouldn’t have stood for it.

By slapping Jameson she was trying to prove to herself that he was exactly like those men, even if he didn’t appear to be on the surface.

If she could prove that to herself, then she could stop her perplexing desire for him.

But he wasn’t like them and his next words proved it.

“Get the hell out of here, Emmy.” His voice had lowered to almost a growl, but he was allowing her to leave with no retribution.

What the hell was wrong with her that she didn’t want to leave?

It was as if striking him had released the valve on her anger, so that it seeped out, leaving room for everything else she was feeling to grow and take its place.

He hadn’t yet touched her, but her body was alive as if he had.

The very idea of him throwing her across the bed had lit her up inside and made her realize that this might be her last encounter with him.

No one else had ever been able to make her feel these things.

What if she walked out of here tomorrow and spent the rest of her life never knowing what his touch could do to her if she let it? What if no one else ever could make her feel like him?

So instead of leaving, like a sane person would, or even giving voice to her desire, she stayed. Backing away until she pressed so hard into the chair’s back that it moved forward a little on the carpet, she shook her head. “We’re not finished.”

He clenched his jaw, his eyes humorless and full of warning, desire and all manner of dark things. “You really want that spanking, don’t you?”

Her intimate muscles clenched at his words. Then when she dared to imagine his hand on her bare bottom, caressing and touching, a flood of damp heat accompanied the action. “No.” She shook her head and paused before continuing, “Not the spanking.”

His nostrils flared as if scenting her capitulation and his gaze shot to hers, pinning her in place. Pressing her thighs together, she shifted under the weight of his scrutiny and felt the tell-tale moisture from her arousal on the tender skin between her legs.

“Emmy.” Her name was almost a groan on his lips.

“This isn’t the time. You’ve made me too angry.

” Yet even as he warned her away, he stepped closer, the movement slow and measured.

The tension moved like a tangible wave from his body, touching her skin and thrilling her.

This was his last effort to make her leave; she could sense his near capitulation.

But he didn’t know how much she wanted him.

Her gaze stopped on his mouth, fixated on his full bottom lip. Standing just inches from her now, warming her front with the heat from his body, he was so close that she had to crane her neck to look at him.

“You’ve no reason to be angry. I’m the one who’s been wronged.”

His large hands had already grasped her hips, strong fingers digging in gently as he pulled her across the tiny gap toward him. She grabbed his biceps and a secret thrill shot through her at how hard they were. She just wanted to run her hands all over his body and feel how hard he was everywhere.

“I still think what we said in the cavern holds true. We can be friends after this is over.” She meant to say more, to explain how badly she felt about having to put the powders in his flask, how she had really meant everything she had said to him.

But he took her words away by kissing her and she didn’t even mind.

Letting her hips go, he cradled her head and tilted it upward so that he could deepen the kiss.

His tongue pressed inside, brushing hers and she couldn’t help but kiss him back.

It had been days since she had kissed him.

Days of remembering the simple pleasure of his mouth and missing it and coming to terms with never having it again.

But now here was that pleasure returned to her, washing over her again, turning her into a puddle of need and want and desire and she didn’t even care.

She just wanted. She wanted everything he could give her without having to think of all the reasons she shouldn’t have it.

Just as her fingers were curling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, just as her tongue had begun to tease with his, just as she was noticing that he always seemed to taste of whiskey, he pulled back a hairbreadth.

His breath came in heavy pants that filled the space between them.

“It’s impossible. We’ll never be friends. ”

“What?” Wits scattered by the kiss coupled with his unexpected words, she shook her head to focus on him.

“We can’t be friends,” he repeated. “Not after you drugged me, not after you ran.”

That cleared her thoughts. Pulling back the few inches she had so that her back was pressed to the chair again, she glared up at him. “You kidnapped me! And you have the nerve to be upset about the fact that I escaped?”

“Come on, Emmy. You seduced me so that you could drug me. You expect me to be fine with that?”

The pain of his rejection surprised her.

He must have seen the pain on her face, because his voice gentled as he spoke. “Don’t lie to me. I won’t let you. Not now.”

“I never planned to seduce you. I only intended to earn your trust, to get close enough to give you the sleeping powders. Everything else...just happened.” The kissing, the things she had revealed to him.

She hadn’t had to pretend anything because he’d made her feel safe enough to be who she was.

The kissing had happened because she genuinely liked him, or thought she did at the time.

“And yet you left me anyway. You knew I wouldn’t hurt you by then, but you left me unconscious.”

That was the moment she realized that she’d hurt more than his pride when she left. Was it possible that he’d felt something more for her? That he still did? Laying one last olive branch at his feet, she reminded him, “You kidnapped me. I had to get away.”

“I didn’t know you when I took you.”

“Just kiss me,” she ordered. None of this mattered anymore.

“Emmy.” It was that low warning again, but she didn’t care to heed it.

“Fine, we can’t be friends. I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

His hands dropped back to her waist and he stepped forward until her hips were pressed back against the plush fabric of the chair’s back.

The harsh pant of his breath filled her ear and she became aware of that very aroused male part of him, impossibly large and unyielding against her belly.

Her body immediately responded to him, flooding the ache between her thighs with more wet heat as she throbbed to the beat of her heart.

“Dammit, what do you want?” His voice was ragged as the weight of his right hand moved up from her waist to pause at her rib cage, just under the curve of her breast. The strength in his body restrained as he awaited her answer.

He was staring at her mouth, making her feel the touch of his lips from the weight of that stare. She wanted them on her and for the first time in her life, she allowed the rational part of her to lie quiet.

He wanted her. She wanted him. It was simple. Easy.

This is what she wanted and she was taking it before she never had it again.

Moving her hands up his arms, she tightened her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him down those few inches until their mouths touched, their breaths mingled for a second before the hot slide of his tongue touched her and she let him know exactly what she wanted.

It wasn’t gentle and, Lord help, her she didn’t want it to be.

She wanted the power and intensity of this man.

She parted her lips and his tongue ravished her, conquering and taking, staking a claim that was his to take.

Before she realized his intent, his hand slid into the V of the robe and his fingers were touching the bare skin of her chest, then her breast, closing around it.

She gasped into his mouth as his warm palm settled over the tightly pebbled nipple and he gently squeezed.