Only His

12

Willow floated in the warm pool, wondering if she had died and gone to heaven despite herunangelic nature. Thirty feet above her, water gushed out from a crack in the black rock of the mountainside. The crack ran in a steeply narrowing V that ended in a waterfall. At the top of the V, the water seethed with steam. By the time it leaped and cascaded into the deep pool, the water had cooled enough not to scald naked skin. To Willow’s surprise, the pool had proved to be sweet rather thansulphurous.

«Caleb is indeed a very special kind of dowser,» Willow said softly to the pool. «If Matt found a valley like this, it’s no wonder he never came back to the farm. All we had were cool creeks and sun-warmed, mud-bottomed ponds.»

The nearby aspen and evergreens mademurmurous sounds of agreement, whispering to Willow of the seductive, savage beauty of the western land. She whispered back, but it was Caleb she was thinking of, not the land. The thought of the liberties she had allowed him made her blush…and the passion he had tapped within her made her ache.

«What has he done to me?» Willow whispered, shivering, remembering.

«Not enough,» she answered herself softly. «Dear God, not nearly enough.»

If Caleb hadn’t been so gentle with her, Willow would have been frightened by her own thoughts, by her own hungers, by the desire to lie in the midst of clean, seething water and feel Caleb’s hands on her, touching her everywhere the water did.

A sweet arrow of sensation shot through Willow’s body, charging her as though it was Caleb’s mouth rather than warm water caressing her breasts. She trembled again, but not from fear. Once the shock of newness had worn off, she very much enjoyed the feelings he called from her body.

«I could say no to a man who was cruel or cowardly or stupid or selfish,» Willow whispered to the pool. «But Caleb is none of those things. He’s a hard man, but a soft man wouldn’t last very long out here. And Caleb is no harder than he has to be. He takes no pleasure in gunfights and killing. He treats his horses kindly. Not once has he used a whip or sharp spurs.»

«He didn’t think much of me when he first met me,» Willow admitted softly to the steaming water, «but he wasn’t rough with me even then. And he was kind to Widow Sorenson, though I suspect Eddy is her paramour. Caleb must know, yet he defended both of them when they couldn’t defend themselves.»

«But most important,» Willow said, shivering again, remembering, «no matter how hot his blood was running, Caleb hasn’t taken me when other men would have. Other than that first time, he wasn’t even angry when I said no. He’s a gentleman even when I’m not quite a lady.»

Willow was relieved at Caleb’s self-control. She still felt cold when she remembered the barely leashed fury in his eyes when she had begged him not to touch her so intimately.

Fancy lady, some day you’ll be on your knees in front of me again — but you won’t be begging me to stop.

She had never seen a man so angry and yet so much in control of himself. She was grateful for that steel discipline of his. It allowed her to venture into the sweet, seething waters of passion without fear of drowning.

Yet even the thought of drowning in Caleb’s arms pierced Willow with a pleasure that was also pain, the ache of hunger awakened and teased but not soothed by his smile, his hands, his mouth moving over her, burning through her inhibitions to the deep passion beneath. She wanted more of his kisses, his caresses, his taste, the intense sensuality that burned beneath his control.

Unable to bear her own thoughts any longer, Willow rolled over and lowered her feet to the rocky bottom of the pool. The water came up to her chin. Slowly, she half-swam, half-walked the short distance to shore, seeking the long ledge of rock that ran down into the pool. After a brief search, her toes found the ledge. It was warm and nearly smooth from the restless water rushing over it. The stone itself was clean, scrubbed by the constant turmoil of water leaping down the dark cliff into the pool.

After wringing out her hair and blotting herself dry, Willow dressed in the camisole andpantelets she had brought to the pool. Other than the faded, everyday dress she had stuffed into the carpetbag at the last minute — a dress she had worn so often she couldn’t bear the sight of it — the fine cotton underwear was the only clothing she had that was clean. She didn’t even have Caleb’s shirt to pull on over the thin cotton, for the shirt was spread out in the meadow to dry along with the rest of the clothes she had washed.

Willow shook out the cotton blanket she and Caleb had been using as a sheet and wrapped it around herself, securing it under her arms. Holding it up like a narrow skirt, she picked her way through a hundred feet of forest to the meadow where Caleb was grooming the horses, wearing one of the heavy blankets around his hips.

At least, Willow hoped he was wearing a blanket. As hot as the day was, she wouldn’t have blamed him for stripping to his underwear.

What underwear? I washed it all and spread it out in the meadow.

The thought of encountering Caleb naked among the horses was both daunting and…exciting.

Willow’s damp hair felt cool on her flushed cheeks as she walked out into the meadow, taking care to stay in plain sight. The horses’ heads came up as they spotted her. Ishmael nickered, catching the familiar scent of lavender on the breeze.

Caleb gave the stallion’s back another stroke of the brush before he bent down and retrieved the blanket he had thrown off as soon as Willow had vanished into the forest that fringed the meadow. He wrapped the blanket around his hips and went back to grooming the stallion. It wasn’t Caleb’s modesty he was interested in preserving, it was Willow’s. She had blushed like a virgin at the sight of his naked chest. She would go scarlet to her heels if she saw the rest of him bare.

«Your turn for a bath,» Willow said as she walked up to Caleb.

He nodded, but didn’t stop grooming Ishmael.

Willow tried not to admire Caleb’s powerful shoulders, long arms, and the tapering of his body into narrow hips. As he brushed the red stallion, she also tried not to stare at the supple flex and play of skin and muscle, and the wedge of chest hair that tapered down to a finger’s width at his flat navel, then flared once more where the blanket rode low on his hips.

She tried not to stare, but she didn’t succeed. When she realized that he was watching her watching him, she looked away hastily.

«I don’t mind,» Caleb said.

«What?»

«I don’t mind having you look at me.»

As Caleb spoke, he realized it was the simple truth. He never would have guessed how satisfying it could be to have a woman look at him shyly with admiration and sensual hunger in her eyes. Perhaps it was because the few women he had known were older widows to whom a man’s body was nothing remarkable. They had enjoyed his strength around the house and praised his self-control in bed, but they had never looked at him the way Willow was looking, as though the sun rose and set in his eyes and the moon lay cupped in his hands.

«In fact,» Caleb said, «I like having you look at me. It makes me feel like a special kind of man.»

«You are,» Willow said simply.

His crooked smile flashed briefly as he shook his head. «I’m just a man, honey. Smarter than some, dumber than others, and harder than most.»

«I think you’re special,» she whispered.

Caleb heard the soft words. His hand ceased making slow, sweeping strokes over Ishmael’s back. «You’re the special one, Willow.» Before she could speak, he slapped the stallion’s rump. «Go back to eating, horse. A bit of fat wouldn’t do you any harm.»

Ishmael trotted off to count his mares and remind them of his muscular presence. Watching, Caleb said quietly, «You better keep track of them, son. They’re as spirited as they are graceful. Tough, too. I don’t know of any flatland horses that could have stood up to what those mares did.»

«They were bred for stamina, loyalty, and courage,» Willow said.

«How did the Arabs manage that?»

«With rather brutal pragmatism,» she answered, watching her mares ignore the strutting stallion. «For century after century, the sheiks rounded up all the brood mares and drove them out into the desert without water. They kept going until the mares were mad with thirst, then they were driven toward an oasis.»

Caleb looked from Ishmael to Willow, caught by the husky intensity of her voice as she spoke of the horses she loved.

«When the mares scented water, they began to run,» Willow said. «When they were within a hundred yards of water, the battle horns were blown. Only the mares that turned away from water and ran back to their masters were bred.»

Caleb looked back at the Arabians for a long moment, measuring the results of the sheiks’ harsh method of determining which mares were worthy of breeding. The test might have been brutal, but the results were extraordinary. Even worn to the point of gauntness by hundreds of miles of hard trail, the mares were still elegant, still alert, still responsive. If Willow saddled one of the mares and pointed it back toward the pass, the mare would go until she dropped.

The Arabians were like their mistress in that. No give up in them. Caleb liked that in a horse. He respected it in a man. He valued it in a woman above all else.

«Maybe the sheiks had the right idea,» he said.

«Hard on the mares,» Willow said dryly.

Caleb smiled and changed the subject. «You ever shave a man?»

«Lot of times.»

«Good. Bring my razor to the pool in about ten minutes,» he said. Abruptly, Caleb turned away, wondering why it irritated him that Willow had shaved men before when it worked to his convenience now. «I put a real edge on the blade, so be careful of your fingers.»

«And your face?» she suggested innocently.

Caleb smiled in spite of his irritation. He looked back over his shoulder at the girl standing in the meadow wearing little more than long hair and a thin cotton blanket.

«If you don’t cut me,» he said, «I’ll brush your hair dry for you.»

Before Willow could answer, Caleb turned again, walking swiftly toward the trees. She stared at his retreating back, her thoughts scattering at the idea of shaving a naked man in a warm pool.

That wasn’t what hemeant, Willowassuredherself. Wasit?

She went toward camp, stopping long enough to turn over the clothes that were drying in the meadow. She had to shoo Trey away from her Levis — the tall gelding apparently was intrigued by the scent of freshly washed clothes. Willow felt the same way herself. Whether denim or wool or flannel, the cloth smelled of sunshine and meadow and a hint of lavender. She inhaled deeply, loving the mixture of fragrances.

By the time Willow got to camp, found the folding razor, and crossed the meadow again, more than ten minutes had passed. She hurried barefoot through the forest, watching for stones beneath the thick carpet of pine needles. When she saw the pool glimmering through the trees, she stopped.

Caleb was still in the water.

«Caleb?» she called. «Are you ready?»

«Sure. Come to the far side of the pool.»

With slowing steps, Willow approached the pool. Caleb was sitting at the opposite side of the pool, where a ledge formed an uneven kind of bench. Just behind him, the runoff from the hidden hot spring cascaded into the pool, sending water seething and swirling up to his breastbone.

«Don’t you want to get out?» she asked.

«I wouldn’t mind, but you would probably blush to your heels,» Caleb said calmly.

«Oh.» Willow’s breath caught. «Should I go away until you can put the blanket back on?» she asked quickly.

«Don’t bother. The water covers more of me than the blanket did.»

Willow tried to speak but her voice had dried up. She took a slow breath. «Caleb?»

«Hmm?»

«I’ve never been around a…» Her voice died as she remembered she was supposed to be a married woman. If she told Caleb she had never been close to a naked man, he would wonder what kind of a marriage she had. «That is, it’s been a long time since I…»

«Shaved a man?» Caleb finished for her. «Don’t worry, honey. I’ll hold real still.»

Uncertainly, Willow stood at the edge of the pool and nibbled on her lower lip. Caleb waited, seeing her ambivalence in the way she held her body. She was poised to flee, yet she was watching him with an expression close to yearning.

Wary little trout. She senses me coming closer and closer and knows she should swim away. But she likes the feel of my hands on her body too well.

God, so do I.

What did that bastard Reno do to make her so skittish of a man?

«Quit torturing your lip, honey,» Caleb said finally. «I didn’t mean to crowd you. Just leave the razor. I’ll shave myself. It won’t be the first time.»

«But there’s no mirror.»

«I’ll find a quiet piece of water.»

«My — my hands are shaking,» Willow said, wanting to explain why she wasn’t going to shave him.

«I can see that. Go on back to camp. I’ll be along in a few minutes.»

She drew a deep breath, but couldn’t bring herself to leave. She wanted to stay too much. Lifting the blanket, looking only at her feet, she waded across the tepid creek that flowed from the pool into the meadow. Under Caleb’s watchful eyes, she picked her way around the pool until she could place the folding razor within reach of his long arm. Telling herself she shouldn’t look, but unable to keep from a single swift glance, she realized that Caleb was right. The water covered more of him that the blanket had.

Most of the time.

But sometimes, for just an instant, the froth would swirl away and offer a tantalizing glimpse of the man beneath the seething silver water. Before Willow could realize what she had seen, the currents would shift again, concealing everything but Caleb’s wide shoulders rising above the pool.

Slowly, Willow settled by the edge of the water, rearranging the blanket so that she could sit without revealing more than her naked feet. After a moment of taut silence, Caleb reached for the soap he had brought and began lathering his wet beard. When he finished, he held his hand out for the razor. Willow put half of the folding blade in his hand, but held onto the other half.

«If you trust me not to cut you, I would like to shave you.»

Caleb closed his eyes, afraid that Willow would see the stark hunger in them. «I’d like that.»

«I don’t think I can reach you from here. Can you move closer to the edge?»

«Not without making you blush.» He hesitated before adding matter-of-factly, «There’s room for you to stand near me, if you don’t mind getting wet again. Your hair will cover whatever the water doesn’t.»

Willow looked at Caleb. His eyes were closed and his body was relaxed on the wide ledge, as though the hot water hadunravelled the constant vigilance that was so much a part of him. Reassured by his casual acceptance of the situation, she pulled her hair forward until it covered her breasts, took off the blanket, and set it beyond the reach of the dancing water. Carefully, she eased into the pool. She had bathed on the other side, where the pool deepened gradually. It got deep very quickly here.

Her foot slipped and she made a startled sound. Instantly, Caleb’s hands closed around her waist.

«Hang on,» he said. He lifted Willow and settled her sideways across his knees, shifted his grip, and held her out in front of him. «There’s another ledge of rock somewhere close to my feet. Find it?»

After a moment of fishing around with her toes, Willow nodded, looking everywhere but at Caleb. The instant of feeling his bare legs beneath her wet bottom had doubled her heartbeat.

«Can you stand?» he asked.

Willow tried, but the water was almost up to her breasts and quite turbulent, for she was in the direct flow of the cascade. After a few attempts, she managed to brace herself against the stone ledge and between Caleb’s knees.

«All right?» Caleb asked.

«I think so.»

He smiled slightly, settled back, and closed his eyes. «Make damn sure, honey. I only have one throat.»

Willow laughed and felt better. Caleb was so matter-of-fact about the situation that she felt foolish being nervous.

«Hold still now,» she cautioned.

As it had been during the battle with theComancheros, once Willow had a task for her hands, they stopped trembling. She shaved Caleb with quick, deft motions, washing the blade after each stroke. The lather vanished within seconds, torn apart by the currents that boiled softly throughout the pool.

Caleb sat motionless, but not from fear of being cut. He was afraid if he moved it would be to grab the trout that had so nearly come within his reach. The knowledge of his own nakedness and Willow’s body so close by aroused him violently. The gentleness of her hands caring for him was also arousing, but in a different way. It brought a feeling of being cherished that strengthened rather than weakened his self-control.

«Almost done,» Willow said, rinsing the razor. «You want to keep your mustache, don’t you?»

«Damn straight,» he said dryly.

«Good. I like the feel of it on my skin,» she said, concentrating on her work rather than her words. «There. That’s it. All clean.»

She rinsed the razor, folded it, and looked up into the tawny blaze of Caleb’s eyes. He took the razor and set it on a rock without looking away from Willow.

«Do you really?» he asked, his voice deep.

«Do I what?»

«Like the feel of my mustache on your skin?»

Willow heard the echo of her own incautious words. Color stained her cheekbones. «Close your eyes.»

«Why? I’ve seen you blush before.»

«I’m going to rinse off your face.»

Cupping her palms, she tried to bring warm water to his cheeks, but more water drained away than touched him.

«Here,» Caleb said. He put his hands beneath Willow’s, then lowered them until they were a few inches beneath the water. He bent his head and moved his face from side to side, stroking his cheeks against her hands. When the last of the lather was gone, he took her hands from the water and kissed the center of her palms. «Thank you, Willow. No woman has ever cared enough to shave me.»

Of their own accord, Willow’s fingers moved from Caleb’s face to his hair, tangling softly in the thick, damp strands. «I’ll cut your hair, too, if you like.»

«I’d rather you let me kiss you. Will you do that?» he asked.

She smiled. «Yes, I think I will. I like your kisses, Caleb. I like them very much.»

A faint shudder went through him. «That’s a dangerous thing to say to me.»

«Why?»

«Come here and I’ll tell you.»

Willow leaned closer, only to lose her footing on the lower ledge. It didn’t matter. Caleb’s hands had already closed around her. He leaned forward, holding her upright in the seething water. The brush of his mustache across her lips made her shiver with anticipation.

«I want to taste you,» he said against her mouth. «Let me in, honey. Let me kiss you the way we both want it.»

His teeth closed on Willow’s lower lip in a caress that was both sensuous demand and sensual plea. She made a small sound and opened her mouth, wanting the kiss as much as he did. The slow penetration and retreat of his tongue made her hands clench on his arms. She wanted more of his taste, of his caresses, of him. She wanted to be as close to him as the untamed pool.

With a small, hungry sound, Willow gave back the kiss in the only way she knew, the way Caleb had taught her, a teasing dance of tongue against tongue, warmth against warmth, hunger stroking hunger until they were locked together in mutual exploration and demand. Vaguely she sensed herself being lifted and turned until she was astride his legs, but her only thought was to lure him even more completely into the kiss, wanting to become so much a part of him that the kiss would never end.

Slowly, gently, relentlessly, Caleb separated himself from the embrace. Fighting for the control he had felt slipping away with each honeyed stroke of Willow’s tongue, he looked at her with a raw hunger he couldn’t conceal.

«Willow,» he said hoarsely. «My God…»

Shuddering, Caleb closed his eyes against the picture she made, her lips reddened by the passionate kiss, her hair floating in golden streams around both of them, her breasts revealed through the wet lace of her camisole, her back arched over his arm, her long legs astride his. The memory of how herpantelets opened went through him in a savage stroke of need. If he moved forward just a few inches, he would be brushing unhindered against the thatch of golden hair.

As Willow’s glance followed Caleb’s, she realized that she might as well be naked from the waist up. From the waist down she was concealed as he was. Most of the time. She looked down, then glanced up in shock when the hard proof of his passion was revealed by a shift of the current.

«Easy, honey, don’t panic now. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. Hell,» Caleb said roughly, «just kissing you is hotter than having another woman. You go to my head faster than whiskey.»

Willow took a breath, saw the narrowing of Caleb’s eyes as he watched her breasts, and remembered how it had felt to have his hands and mouth caressing her. She knew he had also enjoyed it, yet he made no move toward her now. He simply held her and looked at her with a hunger that made her weak. Despite his obvious need, he was in control of himself.

I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.

With a virgin’s serene misunderstanding of the power of passion, Willow decided that she could venture more deeply into the compelling currents that swirled between her and Caleb.

«Does that mean you want to kiss me again?» she asked, her eyes luminous.

«Yes,» he said, drawing her slowly near, «I want to kiss you, Willow.»

She tangled her fingers in his hair with a hunger she didn’t understand, impatient to feel the intimacy of his kiss once more. All he did was brush his open mouth over her, caressing her without claiming her, tasting her eyebrows and hair and cheeks, but not the lips that trembled with desire.

«Caleb,» she said finally, «I thought you wanted to kiss me.»

«I am kissing you.»

«Yes, and it’s very nice, but that kind of kissing makes me, well, restless.»

He smiled slowly. «Does it?»

The very male smile sent another lash of restlessness through Willow.

«You’re teasing me,» she accused.

«God, honey, I sure hope so.»

«But why?»

«Because I’ve never known anything sweeter than holding you like this with the water all wild around us. So if you want more than I’m giving you, you’ll have to spell it out for me. I don’t want to scare you away, Willow. I don’t want this to end for a long, long time.»

«I don’t want it to end, either,» she admitted, tracing the line of Caleb’s jaw to his chin, nuzzling the newly revealed dimple with her fingertip, then sliding down to test again the power and resilience of his shoulder. «You feel so good.»

Caleb closed his eyes and wondered how much he could take before he lost control and frightened Willow away.

«Tell me, honey. Tell me what you want.»

She looked at the harsh lines of his face, felt the tension drawing his body taut, and whispered. «Don’t you know?»

His eyes opened. The passion in their depths was like twin candle flames burning. Carefully, he bent down and bit her lower lip, making her shiver and arch closer to him, her breasts brushing his chest and her hips so close that he felt control slipping away again. Ruthlessly, he clamped down on the hunger that made his whole body rigid.

«I know what you want, but I don’t know how much,» Caleb said, biting Willow’s lower lip again. «If you ’re too shy to tell me, show me. Do whatever you want to me, however you want it. Anything, honey. Everything.»

The temptation was extraordinary, the lure irresistible. She rose to it gracefully, coming closer to the instant when escape would be not only impossible, but unwelcome.

«Whatever I want?» Willow asked huskily.

«However you want it.»

«I want it…all,» she whispered, looking at Caleb’s mouth.

With a groan, he pulled her closer and gave her what she had asked for, taking her mouth even as she took his. The kiss was like the pool itself, hot and constantly changing, teaching her how intimate a kiss could be. She pulled herself closer and yet closer to Caleb’s body, making soft sounds and flexing her hands rhythmically on his arms, testing his male strength with a hunger she couldn’t explain.

Restlessly, Willow combed her fingers through the dark hair on Caleb’s chest. When she brushed over his nipples his kiss deepened even more. Instinctively, she returned to the sensitive nubs again, intrigued by both the changing texture and the tangible response she drew from him.

Then Willow felt Caleb’s hands on her own breasts, felt him coaxing her nipples taut. Sensual lightning coursed through her body, making her moan. When his hands released her, she made a hoarse sound of disappointment.

«What?» he said against her mouth. «Tell me, Willow.»

«Again.» The word was broken, as hungry as the pink nipples pressing against the fragile fabric of her camisole. «Oh, Caleb, again.»

Long fingers moved over the ribbons on Willow’s camisole. The transparent cloth parted, floating up on the seething water.

«Lift up your hair, honey.»

She gathered up the floating strands and pulled them behind her head. When her arms lifted, her breasts were visible through the turbulent water. Caleb’s eyes narrowed hungrily as he looked at her. His lips parted, showing the white edge of his teeth, and she knew that he wanted to kiss her again, differently. She remembered how it had been to feel his tongue teasing her breasts, his teeth gently caressing, his mouth tugging on her as she changed to meet the sweet demands he made.

«Caleb,» Willow said huskily.

He looked up, afraid he would find fear in her eyes. Instead he found fire.

«Will you…kiss me the way you did this morning?» she asked.

Slowly, Caleb’s hands tightened, lifting Willow from the water until one of her breasts brushed against his mustache. He felt the shivering that went through her, tightening her nipple until it nuzzled against his lips. His tongue flicked out, circled her, drew her in, loved her until her breath broke and her fingers dug heedlessly into his shoulders. He smiled and closed his teeth around her with exquisite care. She gasped as she arched against him, twisting slowly, knowing only his mouth and the wild singing of passion deep within her body.

Caleb ached to tangle his fingers in the dark gold at the apex of Willow’s thighs, to test the sleek depths of her, to know if she needed him as much as he needed her. But when he had touched her like that before, she had panicked and begged him to stop. Now she was on her knees in front of him, astride the clenched power of his thighs, her hips moving with the rhythms of his mouth on her breast. Now he couldn’t bear to have her turn away.

His teeth closed gently on her velvet nipple once more, making her cry out with pleasure. He released her and looked at the transformation passion had wrought in her body. Her breathing was as rapid as his, her creamy breasts were flushed with heat and the loving marks of his mouth, her lips were red, trembling, and her pupils had dilated until her eyes were nearly black.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

«C–Caleb?»

He closed his eyes because he could not bear to look at Willow any longer without touching the silky flesh hidden between her legs.

«I–I want — more. But I don’t know — what.» Willow shivered with soft violence. «Help me, Caleb. Helpme.»

His eyes opened and a stillness came over him as he realized that Willow was telling the simple truth. She was stretched on a rack of passion and had no idea how to find release.

«The kind of touch you want from me made you panic once before.»

Caleb saw the moment of understanding break over Willow, saw her shudder and close her eyes. For the space of a long breath they remained closed. Then she took her hands, put them over his, and slowly pulled them down her body, drawing them from her breasts to her waist, skimming the deeply indented curves of her torso. Just below her navel, she lost her courage.

«Stay with me,» Caleb said against Willow’s mouth when she would have lifted her hands from his. «That way I’ll know you want it, too.»

Her hands rested over his as he slowly eased his palms down her body, seeking the womanly fullness of her hips. The frail cotton of herpantelets was little barrier to his touch. He filled his hands with her round curves and squeezed. She gasped and shivered violently.

«Frightened?» he asked softly.

«It feels…strange.»

«Bad?»

«No, it just makes me ache in the oddest places.»

«Does it? Where?»

Willow’s breath thickened into a soft moan as Caleb’s big hands flexed again, making her very aware of the luxuriant flare of her own hips.

«Is that where you ache?» he asked, smiling slightly.

She shook her head.

«Where, honey?»

Willow bit her lip and looked at Caleb, torn between passion and embarrassment. «Don’t you know?»

«I’m beginning to think I don’t know much about you at all,» he admitted in a low voice. His hands flexed and his whole body clenched at the passion coursing visibly through Willow in response to his touch. «Where does it ache, little one? If you’re too shy to tell me, take my hand and show me.»

For a moment, Willow didn’t think she had the courage to do even that. Then currents swirled and tugged at her, sending a glittering burst of sensation through the pit of her stomach, leaving behind aredoubted ache. She took one of Caleb’s big hands and slowly brought it from her hip to her navel and from there to the warm, water-washed triangle at the apex of her thighs.

«There?» Caleb asked softly.

Willow tried to look at him but couldn’t. She closed her eyes and nodded. His palm covered her as his long fingers sought the opening in thepantelets and curled down between her legs, gently seeking her softest flesh, finding it, holding her so close that not even the seething waters of the pool came between them. Her breathingunravelled in a low moan. Instinctively, she tried to protect her tender flesh by closing her legs. It was impossible. She was kneeling astride his thighs, balancing herself by holding onto his shoulders.

«Easy, little love. I won’t hurt you.»

Willow barely heard Caleb’s low voice. His hand was moving slowly, both soothing her and increasing the sensual ache. Bright splinters of sensation raced up from his touch, driving away her uncertainty, leaving only a stark pleasure that shortened her breath. Then she felt the tender probing of his finger and stiffened as though he had laid a whip across her bare flesh.

«Caleb.»

He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, forcing himself to withdraw from the sleek feminine heat he had just discovered. But he couldn’t force himself to release Willow completely. She felt too good against the palm of his hand, too soft, too hot. Nor could he prevent the languid, caressing movements of his fingers that made her even softer, hotter. Without meaning to, he probed very lightly. She shuddered but didn’t withdraw.

«Do you want me to stop?» Caleb asked, his voice rough with passion and restraint.

Willow’s only answer was a moan as something deep inside her tightened and then tightened again, making her body twist slowly against Caleb’s touch.

«Willow?»

«I don’t know the words for what I want,» she said raggedly. «But I like having you touch me. I like feeling you against me…inside me. Do you like it, too, being inside me?»

Caleb fought a silent, savage battle with his body. All that enabled him to keep his self-control was the near certainty that Willow wasn’t what he had thought her to be.

«Yes, I like it,» he said almost roughly. «But I thought you didn’t. You went stiff.»

Willow heard the hunger and restraint in his voice, and something more, an uncertainty she had never heard before from him. She looked at Caleb with luminous hazel eyes.

«I couldn’t help what I did,» she admitted. «Being touched like that…»

«Did I hurt you?»

She shook her head. «It was just unexpected.»

«Did you like it?»

«Yes,» Willow said. «It sent heat all through me, everywhere, but especially where you’re holding me now. I love your hands, Caleb. They’re a beautiful fire on my body.»

He tried to speak but couldn’t. A hammer blow of passion shook him, taking him right up to the edge of ecstasy and leaving him there, shaking. He had never lost control with a woman, but he was a heartbeat away from it now.

«Hold onto me, Willow. Hold on hard. I’m going to touch you again. There’s something I have to know.»

Willow started to ask what Caleb meant, but the movement of his hand took her breath away. Tenderly, relentlessly, two fingers pressed into her tight, sleek center. Her nails dug suddenly into his bare shoulders. At first Caleb thought he was hurting Willow. Then he felt her shiver, felt the sultry pulses of her pleasure. He smiled through clenched teeth and probed lightly, seeking her depths. He was barred from them by the taut, frail barrier of her maidenhead.

Breath hissed through Caleb’s clenched teeth at the proof of Willow’s innocence. He knew he should withdraw from her, leaving her virginity intact if not untouched.

And he knew he could not force himself to withdraw.

The certainty that Willow was no man’s fancy lady made it impossible for Caleb to release her. She hadn’t known a man’s kiss, hadn’t known the touch of a man’s hands on her breasts, hadn’t known the tender, savage fires of passion. Yet she knelt nearly naked in front of him now, accepting his presence within her innocence, and her softness caressed him in return, urging him to explore more deeply the secrets only he had ever touched.

She was his, only his, and he should not take her.

«Willow.»

Her name was as much a groan as a word, but she understood. She made amurmurous sound that was pleasure and questioning combined.

«You’re a virgin,» Caleb said simply.

Willow opened her mouth. Nothing came out but a gasp of pleasure when he moved within her.

«I — that is —» She shuddered and threw back her head, forgetting what she had been going to say.

«Don’t bother trying to deny it. I’m touching the proof of your chastity right now.» Caleb’s eyes opened. Passion made them almost opaque, like hammered gold. His voice was as rough as his touch was gentle. «What is he to you?»

«Who?»

«Matthew Moran.»

Willow blinked and tried to gather her thoughts. «My brother. Matt is my brother.»

Caleb went utterly still for an instant before breath rushed out of him as though at a body blow. Killing Willow’s fancy man was one thing. Killing her brother was entirely another.

Willow would never forgive him.

Her brother. Rebecca’s seducer, the man who murdered my sister as surely as if he had put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

Willow’s brother!

Closing his eyes, shutting out Willow, Caleb tried to ease the strident demands of the hunger clawing at his body so that he could think. All he could do was scream silently inside his mind at the savage trick of fate that finally had given him a woman whose passions ran as strong and deep and hot as his own, only to make it impossible to have her, leaving him empty in ways he had never been empty before.

Slowly, Caleb began withdrawing from Willow’s body, feeling as though he were being torn in two, yet knowing if he took her, she would hate herself when she saw him standing over her brother’s body.

Her brother’s killer.

Her lover.

Willow.

Caleb didn’t know he had spoken her name aloud until he felt the warm rush of Willow’s breath over her lips.

«It’s all right,» she said urgently. «I understand. I finally understand.» Her kisses were quick, biting, almost frantic as she felt Caleb’s touch sliding from her body, setting her afire all over again even as he withdrew. «Listen to me,» she said, her voice shaking. «You told me that one day I would be on my knees in front of you, only I wouldn’t be begging you to stop. You were right. I’m begging you now, Caleb. Don’t stop. If you stop touching me, I’ll die. Please, Caleb. I’m beg —»

With an anguished sound, Caleb took Willow’s mouth, stilling the pleas that were too painful for him to hear any longer. He kissed her deeply, wanting to sink so completely into her that she would never be able to turn her back on him, no matter what he did, no matter who died.

The kiss wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Willow knew it as well as Caleb did. Her hand went down his body, blindly seeking to complete the joining he had prepared her for. Slender fingers found Caleb, measured him, approved him with an honesty that nearly undid him. He shook with the force of the passion raging through his body, demanding to be freed of all restraint.

With a thick sound of need, Caleb put his hand over Willow’s as he pulled her down onto his thighs, pressing his aching flesh against her, gently parting the soft folds of skin and touching even softer flesh, pushing a finger’s width into her before control returned and he forced himself to stop.

But he could not force himself to withdraw.

«Willow,» Caleb said hoarsely. «Push me away.»

She curled her hand around him, but not to follow his command. The pressure of his hard flesh just inside her body was delicious. She wanted more of him, not less. She settled more completely over him and instinctively drew up her knees, pushing him a bit more deeply into her body.

«No!» Caleb said, clenching his hands around Willow’s narrow waist, stilling her motions. «If I take your innocence, someday you’ll hate yourself as much as you’ll hate me.»

Eyes closed, she shivered and pressed harder, taking more of him.

«Oh God,» he groaned. «Willow, don’t.»

«I can’t help it. I’ve needed you all my life and I didn’t even know it. I love you, Caleb Black.» She leaned forward and kissed him, wanting him. «I love you.»

Agony twisted through Caleb, tearing him until he wanted to scream his protest at the casual cruelty of life. Willow loved him…and as soon as he found Reno, love would become hate.

But it was too late for regrets, too late for explanations, too late for anything except the sweet violence of passion claiming them.

«Open your eyes, Willow. I want to see you. I want to remember what it was like to be loved by you, because sure as sunrise, someday you’ll hate me.»

Caleb’s voice was hoarse beyond recognition. Willow’s eyes opened slowly. They were luminous with love, smoky with passion. She watched his eyes as he pressed more deeply into her. He wanted to ask if he was hurting her, but he had no voice. He had taken women with affection, with gentleness, with pleasure, yet never before had he felt the shattering intimacy of joining himself with a woman in the way he was joining with Willow now — openly, watching her as she watched him, seeing and feeling the exact instant when he transformed her body from virgin to woman, hearing her soft cries as he filled her completely, knowing each elemental shivering of passion through her as though it were his own body shivering.

He would have spoken to her then, told her how beautiful she was, how much the gift of her innocence meant to him, but he couldn’t breathe. She was sleek and tight around him, and the honey of her passion was hotter than the pool. He rocked gently against her, heard her breath break, and forced himself to be still.

«Am I hurting you?» Caleb asked in a low voice.

«No,» Willow said. «It’s good — so good. Like flying. Like riding fire. Oh God — I can’t bear it. Don’t stop — don’t ever stop!»

Willow’s broken words took the world away, leaving only the fire of passion consuming both of them. Caleb found her mouth in a kiss that was both tender and yet demanded her very soul. His fingers sank deeply into her hips, squeezing, feeling the hidden shuddering of her response tugging at him, stripping away his control one hot pulse at a time. Blindly, he searched through the wet silk of her hair, seeking her most sensitive flesh, discovering it taut and full. He caught the sleek nub between his fingers, rubbing as he rocked against her, harder and deeper each time.

Caleb’s name was torn from Willow’s throat as passion wracked her. Her anguished cry seared through him, driving him more deeply into her, taking both of them more deeply into the heart of fire. He drank her cries as he wanted to drink the passion coursing through her, to know every bit of her, to sink into her soul. Knowing he should hold back, yet needing her too much to control the full force of his passion, he stroked her soft flesh hungrily, relentlessly, demanding everything she could give to him.

«Forgive me, love,» Caleb groaned even as he stroked Willow again, dragging fresh cries from her lips. «I can’t stop. It’s never been like this. I can’t — stop.»

Willow’s back arched and Caleb’s name came from her lips with every rapid breath she took, every motion he made. Suddenly the pleasure became too much to bear, the rack of passion too tight to endure any longer. She cried out for release from the sensual vise that was almost pain.

And then release came, consuming her more deeply than pleasure had, ecstasy shaking her until she wept.

Willow’s broken cries stripped away the last vestige of Caleb’s control. He drove into her again and again while the sweet violence of release consumed him as completely as it had her. With a harsh, exultant shout he spent himself repeatedly inside her soft, shivering body.

And then he held her, rocked her, crying her name in silence, unable to believe he had seduced the innocent sister of the man he had vowed to kill.