CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"T HERE'S A COMFORTABLE SITTING ROOM IN THE MASTER SUITE ," Cain said. "There's even a fireplace. We can relax there."

Jenny just nodded. Her heart was hammering, and he hadn't even touched her. Cain led her down the hall to his bedroom. Relief hit her when he opened the door into a sitting room that matched the Southwest décor of the rest of the house. Jenny crossed the red tile floor toward a small, Spanish-style stucco fireplace and sat down on a sofa covered in bright-striped, woolen fabric.

Wood had already been laid in the hearth. "Cold enough in the evenings now for a fire." Cain set his drink on the ornately carved coffee table, walked over and picked up a long wooden match, struck it on the box, and set the kindling ablaze. As the fire leaped to life, he joined her on the sofa.

Jenny took a long swallow of her drink. There were liquor bottles on a dresser against the wall, plenty of whiskey if she needed more fortification.

"How long has it been?" Cain asked, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. Her stomach instantly contracted.

"I've been divorced for a while, but we weren't really together at least a year before that. I stayed when I should have left."

"You have a new life now," Cain said, gently stroking her hand, kissing each of her fingers.

Jenny studied his handsome face, the solid jaw, the faint cleft in his chin. "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I'm not very good at sex."

Cain's dark gaze never wavered. "I am," he said.

Then he kissed her, not the ravaging kiss she expected, but a slow sensual tasting that had her stomach free-falling and heat sliding out through her limbs.

Cain broke the kiss and handed her the rocks glass. Jenny took another hefty swallow. Cain took the glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table. "I don't want you drunk, just relaxed."

"I . . . I need a shower," she babbled. "I smell like a horse."

"You smell like sagebrush and fresh air. It's a heady aphrodisiac." He reached up and pulled off the elastic band around her ponytail, then ran his fingers through her curls.

"I love your hair," he said, spreading the heavy mass around her shoulders. "It feels like it's alive." Cain kissed her again, then moved lower, his mouth burning a trail along her throat. He reached for the top button on her flannel shirt, unbuttoned it, and kissed her bare shoulders. He unbuttoned two more buttons, pressed his mouth against the tops of her breasts.

"I'm sure you're used to silk, not flannel," she said nervously.

He glanced up at her. "In your case, you have no idea how much flannel appeals to me." When he opened her shirt and unhooked her white bra, she was glad of the lacy cups and the clasp at the front.

Cain leaned over and kissed her, softly coaxing her lips apart as his hands roamed over the fullness, cupping first one and then the other, caressing and teasing, making her breath catch and her pulse pound so hard she could hear it.

"Tell me what you like," he whispered between gentle kisses.

"I-I don't . . . I don't know."

He nibbled the side of her neck. "Then tell me what you don't like." He gently bit an earlobe. "Did you like making love with your husband?"

She just looked at him. "No." Another soft kiss had her insides quaking.

"Why not?"

"Richard wanted me to . . . to service him. That was all he cared about. He liked to just lie there while I . . . while I did things to him."

Cain kissed her again, more deeply this time. "What did you want him to do?" He softly kissed the side of her neck.

"I wanted him to be a man instead of a . . . a . . ."

"Weakling?" Cain supplied, his scarred hands kneading her breasts.

Her head fell back, giving him better access. "Not exactly, but . . ."

His teeth lightly abraded her nipple, and desire burned through her, hotter than she had ever felt before. "I wanted . . . wanted him to take control."

Cain ran his finger over her bottom lip. "That's good, because I'm a man who likes to take control." And then his mouth closed over hers in a deep, hungry kiss that fueled the heat sparking between them.

Pleasure, pure and raw, burned through her. She had never felt anything like it, never felt such blazing need. She wanted Cain, wanted him to touch her. She wanted to touch him.

Cain broke the kiss, rose from the sofa, and reached for her hand.

Jenny thought of the time it would take to strip off their clothes and climb into bed, how it would slow things down and they would have to start all over again. She didn't want the fire to die, but she was afraid it would.

"I want you," she said. "I'm afraid if we have to start over . . ." She shook her head. "I want to feel the way I do right now." She reached for his denim shirt, pulled it out of his jeans, and popped open the row of snaps down the front, exposing his wide chest. She reached out and touched him. He was so powerfully male.

"Please," she said, and it sounded like the plea it was.

Jenny ran her hands over the heavy pecs and washboard abs and felt a rush of desire that made her dizzy.

"You want a real man, Jenny. I'll give you one." This time his kiss was rough and hungry. A hard, taking kiss that stirred her up until she could barely breathe. Her body was embarrassingly ready for him, desperate to join with him.

In minutes, he had stripped off her boots, jeans, and the rest of her clothes. Cain's chest was bare, but he was still wearing his Wranglers and boots. Lifting her, he wrapped her legs around his waist, kissed her fiercely, unzipped his fly, and slid himself deep inside.

A sound escaped her at the staggering rush of pleasure. Cain began to move, and the heat went hotter, wilder, fiercer. Her lips clung to his as he took the kiss deeper. She could feel him moving, big and hard, and everything inside her burned.

Her climax struck out of nowhere and seemed to have no end. She clung to Cain's powerful neck, repeating his name over and over, but he didn't stop.

Instead, he crossed the room, propped her back against the wall, and continued pounding into her, sending her into a second frenzied climax. It wasn't until her third release that he finally let himself go, joining her in his own shuddering climax.

Jenny rested her head on his shoulder as time drifted past. Cain let her go, and she slid down his body. It took a moment to realize there were tears on her cheeks.

Catching her chin between his fingers, Cain forced her to look up at him. "Did I hurt you?"

Jenny shook her head. "No . . ." A slow smile spread over her face. "You were perfect."

Cain smiled back. "My sweet Jenny." With a last brief kiss, he turned and left to dispense of the condom she hadn't seen him put on. "I'll be right back," he called over one wide shoulder.

"Your turn," he said, tipping his head toward the bathroom as he walked out. Jenny grabbed her clothes off the floor and hurried to put them on.

"There's a robe in there you can use," he said through the door. "You won't be needing your clothes tonight."

Jenny felt a rush of anticipation mixed with a hint of uncertainty. Aside from having the kind of incredible sex she'd only imagined, she couldn't afford to get involved with Cain. She was just another of his women. Whatever happened between them would be brief, perhaps only tonight. As long as she accepted that, she'd be okay.

As she lifted the man-sized robe off the hook, she took a deep breath. She didn't know how long it would last, but she was spending the night in Cain's bed.

Tonight, she refused to think of ghosts or death, or what might be waiting for her at the Copper Star.