Page 26 of The Copper Heir (The Gilded West #1)

Chapter Twelve

H unter didn’t know how long he lay there above her.

With his face buried in her neck, his arms on either side of her barely keeping his full weight from her, he was having trouble regaining his composure.

With every breath he breathed in her heady scent, salt mixed with the undercurrent of wildflowers, and he couldn’t get enough.

His heart rate slowed as his breathing normalized, but he still couldn’t get his mind around what had happened.

One minute they’d been talking, arguing, but then he’d kissed her and hadn’t come up for air until. ..well, until now.

Even now all he wanted to do was rock against her and keep her beneath him, some primitive voice in his mind repeating “mine” as he took her so many times she’d feel him for days.

Even then he wouldn’t want to give her up, not until he’d gotten enough, but something told him it would be a very long time before he got enough of her.

A soft hum of pleasure brought him back down and he realized he was tasting the tender spot behind her ear, the tiny indentation just where it met her neck, the tip of his tongue making small circles there as if he couldn’t help himself.

She shifted beneath him and he remembered how small she was and that he was probably crushing her.

It took all he could do to pull himself out of her and then move to her side.

Grabbing a pillow, he pulled himself up a few feet on the bed and grabbed her, hauling her up to lie next to him across the mattress.

He caught a glimpse of red on her thigh and felt the first real twinge of guilt since everything had started.

Christ, he’d never really thought that she was a virgin.

Inexperienced, yes, but never had he thought that someone—anyone—in that godforsaken town wouldn’t have tried to claim her as his.

How had she escaped the attentions of Campbell’s men?

Was Campbell such a tyrant that none of them bothered with her?

She was sweetness and gentleness wrapped in a package of strength and intelligence.

It didn’t make sense that she would still be untouched.

Though guilt tried to stir within him, he couldn’t summon up the regret that he knew he should feel now.

Looking down at her, his fingers trailing a lazy path up and down the silken skin of her back, he liked that he was the first man to claim her.

He, who preferred women who knew what they were doing in bed, who preferred women who sought out lovers as aggressively as he did, was glad that she had been a virgin.

It made that voice in his head all the louder.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

His hand curved over her bottom and he squeezed gently, the need to touch her so strong that he couldn’t seem to stop.

She was lying on her stomach, still and quiet, and he needed to know how she felt, if she was still angry.

His anger had fled the very moment he’d pushed himself inside her, but it hadn’t tamed his passion at all.

He’d taken her as aggressively as he’d ever taken a woman when he should have been tender.

Her first time with a man shouldn’t have been him mauling her.

If he had known beforehand—but, no, he’d known as soon as he’d encountered her body’s resistance and the knowledge hadn’t made him gentle.

Still, she had cried out her pleasure and he had all night to make it up to her and show her how it could be between them.

“Emmy?” Pulling the strands of dark hair that had fallen loose from her braid back from her face, he leaned over her and rubbed his lips along the delicate, peaches-and-cream skin of her cheek. “Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes slowly, sleepily, and turned her head so that she faced him.

Settling back on the pillow next to her, he watched as she blinked and saw the exact second her gaze focused on his face and she realized what had happened.

A moment of panic came over her, widening her eyes and tightening her jaw, but then just as quickly it fled to be replaced by something infinitely more serene. But he didn’t like it any better.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

She was shutting out her feelings, to push him away and keep him at arm’s length.

He didn’t like it at all, but he didn’t blame her, not after the way he’d treated her.

True, she had kissed him when he would have pulled away and it was she who had unknotted his towel and taken him in her hands.

But it was Hunter who had nearly lost control and not regained it again until he’d been panting over her, his seed spilled deep within her.

He never lost control like that. Hell, he didn’t even know if she knew how to take precautions against pregnancy.

It wasn’t like him to be so irresponsible.

Making a mental note to talk to Glory in the morning, he pushed the thought from his mind and focused on the woman next to him.

When he found himself about to caress her face, he clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it into the sheet between them, determined to control the compulsion to touch her.

“I didn’t realize that was your first time. It doesn’t excuse anything, but I meant to be gentle. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

The brittle look of calm she wore dissolved and for a moment he was afraid tears would replace it, but she surprised him by smiling and then smothering a laugh against the pillow.

He didn’t know what was funny, but found himself smiling anyway because he was so relieved that she wasn’t upset.

Before he realized it, his fist had unclenched and he was rubbing a lock of her hair between his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she said when her shoulders stopped shaking. “I just...I’ve never seen you look so uncertain.”

His smile widened. “Yeah, well, I’ve never taken a virgin before.” Then his smile fell away as his gaze traced her face. She looked so damned innocent and desirable at the same time. “You’re not hurt?”

Shaking her head no, the smile on her face faded as well.

A strange silence grew between them. They weren’t friends, they’d already established that, but they weren’t even lovers, not in the way he’d ever thought of the term.

There was no word to describe them now. Captor and captive seemed absurd at this point. The hell if he knew what they were.

“I’m going to...” She pointed to the bathing chamber and gave him an embarrassed look as she slipped off the bed and all but ran from the room and shut the door behind her.

Taking a deep breath, he sat up and ran his hands through his hair.

They had crossed a line tonight that he’d never anticipated.

He’d bought her at the auction because he’d wanted her off display from those bastards staring at her.

It had been impulsive, but the only way he could reasonably get her away from them without jumping onto the stage and hauling her off, which would have created more questions than he wanted to answer.

He’d have done it if there had been no other choice, if someone else had already claimed her.

Buying her the way he had would create enough questions, but he could deal with those.

Everyone knew him as a man who enjoyed his fair share of women, he could explain the novelty of a virgin’s auction away and no one would question it.

They all knew the Jameson accounts wouldn’t so much as shudder at the loss of fifty thousand dollars.

He couldn’t so easily explain carrying her off as she screamed for help, which might very well happen once morning came and he had to take her out of here.

The patter of the slow trickle of water from the faucet hitting the porcelain bowl of the sink came through the bathing chamber door and he rose from the bed.

Searching for his discarded towel, he retrieved it from the carpet near the chair.

It was still damp so he cleaned himself and threw it into a corner.

Deciding things might progress more smoothly if he wasn’t nude when she came out, he grabbed the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around his waist. The clean clothes he’d sent for hadn’t yet arrived from his townhome.

Or if they had, he didn’t want to open the door to check the hallway.

Picking up her robe, he decided he’d rather she didn’t put it back on, so he threw it into the corner with his towel.

The water turned off and a moment later the door cracked open.

He sat on the edge of the bed, one foot braced on the floor as he watched her walk out.

She was so beautiful, wearing nothing but a white towel.

He hardened the instant her shy blue eyes found him and lingered on his naked chest. The memory of her small hand on him made his flesh tingle with the need to have her touch him again.

This time he’d let her take her time to explore and he’d explore her.

This time he wouldn’t lose control and bend her over the bed like a savage.

Surprising him yet again, she boldly walked over to him, stopping only a foot away from where he sat.

Her shy gaze dropped to his lap, no doubt taking in the massive erection she caused with embarrassingly little effort.

The thin sheet did little to hide the bulge.

Then she gave him a slow smile as she looked up to meet his gaze. “I really am fine.”

He let out a huff of air—a laugh, he thought—but he didn’t know what to think anymore.

Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her against him, burying his nose in her hair and taking a deep breath, filling himself up with the intoxicating scent of her.

“You should be angry, sweetheart. Yell at me and tell me what a savage I am.”

She shook her head against him and pulled back just enough so that her gaze could meet his. “I wanted what happened and I can admit that.”