Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

" I 'm going to do it." Evie announced, as Marisol pulled a sock from the basket of mending and put it in her lap. She chose a spool of thread that matched the color of the sock then grabbed a needle from the pin cushion and threaded it.

"Do what?"

"I'm going to…ask…" Oh, saying the words aloud was hard. She'd practiced them in her head since she'd made her decision, but actually giving voice to those thoughts proved to be almost impossible, and if she couldn't say them to her best friend, how would she ever say them to Jake? She licked her lips and stared toward the horizon, the shirt she intended to repair bunched on her lap.

"I've decided…" She tried again but couldn't finish, ending her sentence on a sigh.

Marisol stared at her, her smile wide, yet her eyes were full of sympathy and understanding. "What is it you're trying to tell me?"

Evie's gaze roamed over her friend's face. They'd never kept secrets from each other. Ever. She trusted this woman more than she trusted any other person with the exception of Hilde, but this was something she could never say to her companion of thirty years. Nor could she say it to Felicity, whom she trusted as well. Heck, she could hardly say it to herself.

She opened her mouth, but still couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud. "It's hopeless. I'm hopeless. I can't even say the words."

"It's just me and you here, Evie. No one can hear us. You can say anything at all, and it won't go any further. You know that. Just blurt it out like you always do."

She gave a slight nod, took a breath, and said, "I'm going to ask Jake if he…I mean…"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Evie. If you can't say the words, I'll say them for you." She grinned. "You're going to ask Jake to become your lover."

"Yes."

"It's about damned time." Marisol laughed. Well, it wasn't quite a laugh. It was more of a surprised cackle. "I've been watching you make calf-eyes at that man for far too long. Good for you, cari?a . Good for you." She patted Evie's hand then went back to her sewing. "When?"

"I don't know. I don't even know how to begin or what to say or…anything." She stared at the garment in her lap. "See? I told you it was hopeless."

"No, it isn't hopeless. Nothing is hopeless. Do you love him?"

She didn't hesitate. "I do." Happiness bubbled inside her, finally admitting what she knew to be true to someone other than herself. "After Tom, I never thought I would feel this way again, but yes, I do love him."

"Do you want him?"

"Yes." And that was the truth. Ever since that first kiss, she'd thought of nothing else. She did want him. She thought he wanted her as well, but couldn't be certain. He certainly seemed to.

Marisol laid her sock aside, careful with the needle. "Then this is what you'll do." The woman lowered her voice as she gave detailed directions.

Evie laughed when Marisol finished. "It seems you've been thinking about this for quite some time."

"I have, almost since the moment I laid eyes on him." Marisol chuckled, then grew serious. "Can you do it?"

"I'm not sure. I've never…seduced anyone before."

"It won't be hard. I've seen the way he looks at you. I think all you need to do is set the stage, and what better place than Peque?a Casa ? It's quiet. It's private. It's comfortable." She grinned her incorrigible grin. "I've used it myself over the years."

"Wait. What are you saying? You've used the little house for secret assignations?" Funny, she wasn't upset about her friend using the house. After all, it was in the perfect location, just on the other side of the river that separated Monta?a del Trueno from Hacienda Zepeda, surrounded by tall, shade-giving trees. It wasn't that at all. It was the fact that she'd never known. "I thought we didn't keep secrets."

"We don't. Well, except for that one. Sergio and I have met there a few times, and no one ever knew, not until now." Her smile widened, as if relieved she'd finally shared her secret. "We didn't think you'd mind."

"I don't mind, but I don't understand either." Evie fiddled with the material in her lap, then picked up the shirt and began to sew, her stitches short and precise this time, despite the confusion in her mind. "You and Sergio have a home of your own and a ranch as big as Monta?a del Trueno."

"Yes, we do. I also have children and grandchildren running around. My house is full, as yours is. And you know as well as I do that work on the ranch never stops." She sighed, and an expression came over her face that Evie recognized. It was contentment and the love Marisol had for her husband of almost thirty years. "Sergio and I just need to get away by ourselves for a little peace and quiet for a few hours." She cast a glance Evie's way, one dark eyebrow raised into a perfect arch. "Haven't you wondered why it's always clean?"

"I assumed the boys' wives kept it clean." She hadn't been to the little house in a long time until just the other day when she and Jake picked berries.

"As well they should, as they all meet there, too." She actually blushed, something she didn't do very often. "Sergio and I were almost caught by Teddy and Esmeralda one afternoon and by Heath and Jenny another time."

Evie lowered the shirt, finished repairing the small tear. "So you're telling me that everyone uses Peque?a Casa for secret trysts except me?"

"That's what I'm telling you," she said. "So maybe you should take a page from our book and invite Jake there." She wiggled her eyebrows, which made Evie laugh.

"Maybe I will."

They continued with their mending and talk turned to Marisol's newest grandchild.

Later, after Marisol went home, Evie climbed the stairs to her room. She sat at the small desk, pulled a piece of stationery from the drawer, grabbed her fancy fountain pen, and jotted a short note. She blew on the ink to make it dry quicker, then folded it and placed it in an envelope. Now to get it to the bunkhouse without being seen.

She rose from her desk, envelope still in hand, and ran downstairs before she lost her nerve. No one was about, either in the kitchen or on the patio as she stepped outside and ran across the lawn. She stood on the porch of the bunkhouse, her heart pounding in her chest, her hands shaking.

Am I insane? This is the stupidest idea.

The thought slammed into her brain, followed by more devastating ones.

What if he doesn't want to meet me? What if…

She pushed all doubts from her mind and knocked lightly. No one answered, no noise came from inside, although she wasn't sure she'd hear anything the way her heart was thundering in her chest loud enough to drown out the sound of the birds chirping. She pushed the door open. Sunlight flooded the big room, illuminating everything, including the fact that it was empty.

Which bunk was Jake's? She'd hate to leave this note for one of the other ranch hands.

She stood in the doorway, her gaze scanning all the bunks.

Ah, that one. It was the only one that was made, the blanket pulled taut over the mattress, the pillow placed precisely at the top of the bed. So like him. Despite the work he did on the ranch, he was always neat and well groomed.

It only took a moment or so to slip the note under his pillow and make her escape, blessedly unseen by anyone.

Once back in her room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, and redness stained her cheeks. Exhilaration surged through her, though satisfied with her little bit of intrigue and daring, yet at the same time, anxious that her note wouldn't be received well.

What if he doesn't want me? The little voice in her head whispered again, putting a damper on that excitement. What if he thinks I'm too old? What if I make a complete fool of myself, waiting for him, and he just doesn't show at all? What if ? —

She firmly pushed her doubts aside once again, refusing to allow them to take root in her head as she strode toward the armoire in the corner. If she was going to seduce Jake Hannigan, she wanted to do it right, and that meant dressing the part.

She pushed clothes out of the way, reached toward the very back, and pulled out a satin and lace peignoir in pale lavender, so different from the white cotton nightgowns she usually wore. A sigh whispered between her lips as she hung it up on the armoire door and took a step back. She'd never worn it, hadn't even looked at it since Tom passed. She had planned to wear it on their wedding night…the wedding that never happened.

Did it still fit?

She started to remove the garment from the hanger and stopped. What am I doing? I can't go to him wearing something meant for another. It isn't right.

She fingered the lace as she pushed the peignoir back onto the hanger and hung it up on the door again.

Besides, this is not who I am anymore. I'm not some idealistic young woman, na?ve and full of dreams. I've lived. I've learned. I've grown. Unable to help herself, she admitted one more truth about herself. And I'm so very practical.

She moved toward the bureau and pulled open the second drawer from the top. White cotton nightgowns met her eyes—some plain, some adorned with lace or embroidery. She pulled one out and inspected it. The lace around the neckline was coming away from the rest of the garment. She let out a sigh as she dropped it to the floor and picked up the next one. This one had a pale reddish stain on the sleeve, faded but still visible. Strawberry jam? Blackberry juice? A memento from one of the children, no doubt—and unacceptable.

She threw it over her shoulder, letting it land wherever it may, then reached for another. This, too, had a stain and was so old, the fabric was as sheer as gossamer. It went on the floor with the others. As did the next and the next, all discarded for one reason or another, until the drawer held no more and only the sachet in the corner remained, the muted fragrance of roses meeting her nose.

She sat heavily on the bed, one plain nightgown clutched in her hand, the only one without a rip or a stain, but still not what she was looking for. Tears misted her vision.

This is hopeless. I'm hopeless! How am I supposed to seduce a man when I don't know what to do? Or have anything enticing to wear? And how am I ever going to manage to wait until midnight without driving myself to insanity?

A heavy sigh escaped her.

I can't do this. I should just retrieve the note. He'll never have to know.

She rose from the bed, strode toward the open French doors leading out to the small balcony and froze. Jake ambled toward the bunkhouse.

Too late! It was only a matter of time before he saw her invitation. Now she had no choice but to follow through.

Slipping back into her room, her heart hammering in her chest, her mouth dry, she sank into the vanity chair and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"Well, you certainly got yourself into a mess, didn't you?"

The image in her mirror merely stared back at her.

Jake loved it when he finished his chores early…well, at least they were done until everyone came in from the summer pasture. He had a few moments to himself and truthfully, wanted to spend them with Evie, but she hadn't been outside when he left the barn. He'd seen her earlier, when she supervised his continuing riding lessons as well as his training of Cinnamon, and then he'd seen her again when she'd been sitting with her friend Marisol, but after the woman left, Evie had disappeared into the house. He admitted enjoying watching them and hearing the occasional burst of laughter carried by the breeze. Evie's most especially.

He couldn't just go up to the door of the main house and knock, could he? Maybe invite her on a walk down to the little house to pick blackberries again. He had enjoyed that, much more than he ever thought he would. Maybe he could ask her to ride with him out to the summer pasture. Despite Clementine almost killing him, he had liked that, too, but suspected it was because he enjoyed her company more than anything else.

He couldn't quite bring himself to march across the lawn and knock on the door. She may be napping with the children. If she was, he didn't want to interrupt.

An image popped into his brain of Evie curled up on the bed, one of the children—or possibly two—sleeping against her, a sweet smile on her face as she dreamed.

The vision in his head was so clear, so vibrant, it shocked him. That's the image he wanted—no, needed—to draw of her. He headed into the bunkhouse, quiet and still at this time in the afternoon, although Grub would be returning shortly to start supper. He reached under his pillow to pull out the sketchbook. As he did so, a small envelope came with it. His name was written on the front. He looked around the empty room then ripped the envelope open.

‘ Meet me at Peque?a Casa at midnight .' It was signed with a big ‘E' in light, feminine script. His heart, the one that was beating so normally in his chest just a moment before, started pounding hard, and he sank to his bunk, just staring at the words, reading them over and over.

Anticipation sang through his veins.

How was he supposed to wait until midnight when all he could imagine was Evie sprawled out on the bed, her eyes half closed in pleasure? Unless, of course, he mistook the note. What if it wasn't an invitation at all?

He read the note again to calm the doubts slamming his brain. Evie was a straight-forward woman. She didn't mince words. She didn't say one thing but mean another.

Yes, this was exactly what he thought it was. Excitement and a little anxiety rushed through him. He wanted to run out to Peque?a Casa right now, but he couldn't. There were still chores to be done, still so many hours until midnight. How in heaven was he supposed to wait when he felt like this? Like he could jump the moon on Clementine's back?

He tucked the note in his pocket and rose from his bunk, unsure what to do with himself.

In the end, he did what he had to do, though the anticipation was killing him. Slowly. Heartbeat by heartbeat. He performed the rest of his chores, ate supper with his bunkmates, washed up, and tried to read, though he couldn't seem to focus on the words on the page. He participated in a brief although stupid conversation regarding the merits of shaving or not shaving with Cesar, but couldn't concentrate on any of it. His mind was in a constant state of excitement—his body, too—and hope, with a little bit of anxiety thrown in for good measure, made waiting that much harder.

But wait he did…until he didn't think he could stand it any longer.

Cesar blew out the last lamp, casting the bunkhouse in darkness except for the moonlight shining in through the windows. Jake lay in his bunk and listened to the noises he'd grown used to…the snoring so loud, it could peel the paint from the walls, Grub's constant mumbling, other less savory sounds one hears when one shares close quarters, and when he couldn't wait any longer, when the prospect of holding Evie in his arms became more than he could bear, he rose from his bunk, grabbed his boots and crept out of the bunkhouse, closing the door softly behind him. He sat on the wooden stump and pulled his boots on, then looked at Flower, who had followed him outside. The cat rubbed up against his legs, her purrs seeming very loud in the silence of the night. The dog was there as well, but barely lifted his head from the rug he slept on.

"You can't come with me," he whispered to the cat, though he was certain Flower wouldn't listen. She rarely ever did. He said nothing to the dog, whose snores once again rumbled from his chest.

Surprisingly, Flower did listen this time, and stretched out on the porch in front of the door where anyone could trip over her if they weren't careful. Was she helping him? Keeping anyone who might want to follow from doing so? Or at least slowing them down because they'd tripped over her?

Jake grinned at the silly idea, then rose from the stump, and started walking. The full moon shed a bright light, much brighter than usual, to guide him on the path to the little house, but maybe it wasn't the moon at all and just his desire to be with Evie. A soft glow emanated from the little house as he drew closer, and he quickened his pace.

He stepped up on the porch and knocked lightly then opened the door slowly. It creaked on its hinges. Stopping in the doorway, he drank in the sight before his eyes, his heart thundering in his chest. Evie stood beside the table, her eyes shimmering, reflecting the light radiating from the candles scattered throughout the room, that smile he adored lifting the corners of her mouth. She looked so beautiful it took his breath away.

Her voice, when she finally spoke, shook. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

Jake stepped inside the little house and closed the door behind him. "Why wouldn't I?"

She shook her head and shrugged, the movement making the candlelight glimmer on her hair, which she left free to curl over her shoulders. She gave a rueful little laugh. "I'm not in the habit of inviting men to a…a…" Her voice was huskier than usual as she let the words die, but her stare was intense until color flooded her cheeks and she looked down at the floor. He noticed her feet were bare, her boots pushed against the wall. "I'm not even sure what I should do."

"You can start by coming a little closer."

She did as he asked and took several hesitant steps in his direction until she was standing in front of him, her eyes wide in her face as she looked up at him, her smile tremulous and unsure. He gathered her in his arms, exactly where he wanted her to be. Her entire body quivered as he tightened his embrace.

"You're shaking. Are you afraid?"

"And nervous. It's been a long time." She gave a short burst of tense laughter.

The anxiety in the depths of her eyes, the color more gray than blue now and as light as he'd ever seen them, were a reflection of her statement. "Ah, darlin', I'm nervous too," he admitted as he looked down at her, hoping to ease her fears. "We'll go as slow as you like. Or not at all. We can just hold each other."

His words had the desired effect. Some of her trembling ceased and the lightness of her eyes changed, though it was subtle. If he hadn't been standing so close, he never would have noticed.

"We can't stay long," she whispered before she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. She kissed him with heat and longing, filling the empty place in his soul he never knew was there. He pulled her tighter against his body, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping into the warm recesses of her mouth to tangle with hers. She tasted of mint and sweetness and hope all rolled into one and he couldn't get enough. Not now. Not ever.

That she should want him as much as he wanted her thrilled him beyond belief. It was there in her kiss, in the way her fingers curled in his hair, in her indrawn breath. His heart pounded, not only in his chest, but in his ears, as his lips slid over hers, drinking in everything she offered, wanting more.

He nuzzled her neck, then licked at the spot where her pulse beat strong. Her breath quickened as she tilted her head back, allowing him greater access, and he complied, pressing tiny kisses along the long column of her throat, then coming back to the place where her pulse thumped the hardest, just beneath her ear. The subtle fragrance of roses met his nose as he burrowed his lips in her hair.

Evie tightened her embrace, her body pressing into his. "More," she murmured, her voice thick with desire and once again, he fulfilled her command, brushing his lips lightly along her jawline until he captured her mouth in a kiss that left them both gasping. Her arms tightened around his neck, as if she didn't trust herself to stay on her own two feet, her body pressing into his so tightly he could feel her breasts against his chest.

Blood surged through his veins like a fire out of control and all he wanted to do was carry her to the bed and lay her down, but he forced himself to go slow, to savor every moment, every touch, every emotion coursing through him. For the both of them.

All his good intentions fled as she pulled away slightly and looked up at him, her eyes heavy lidded but holding a mischievous gleam. A delightfully wicked smile lifted the corners of her mouth as her hands trailed over his shoulders and downward. Jake sucked in his breath, caught up in the touch of her hand and the expression on her face, forcing himself to stand still, curious to see what she planned.

Her smile widened just a bit as she fingered the buttons on his shirt, then began unfastening the garment, slowly, one button at a time. She pushed the fabric apart from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft whoosh. Her hands splayed across his bare chest, but she never took her straight-forward gaze from him, desire smoldering in her eyes. The heat of her touch nearly singed him, and his longing for her flamed even more, if that was possible.

He growled low in his throat as he pulled her close and dipped his head, capturing her lips with his once again, wondering if he'd ever stop wanting to kiss her. No, he never would. Her mouth was made for kissing, but only by him.

He maneuvered her toward the bedroom, guiding her backward until the bed impeded any further progress. "You have too many clothes on," he murmured in her ear as he nuzzled the soft skin of her neck.

She shivered in his embrace and leaned her head back to gaze at him, her eyes wide and full of…was that daring? Confidence? Hope? "So take them off."

Her voice, so husky, struck him to the core and he eagerly complied, starting with her skirt, easily undoing the fastenings to allow the suede garment to slip to the floor.

He let out an exasperated groan as his big fingers tried to manipulate the small buttons on her sheer blouse. One more minute and he'd rip the thing from her, sending all those ivory fastenings scattering. He brought his lips to hers again, kissing her deeply, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he tried again.

Evie rested her hands over his, stilling his movements, probably sensing his frustration, though she was as eager as he. He could feel it in the slight tremor that rippled through her. He broke the kiss and stared into her eyes, which seemed to glimmer with need.

"We have time, Jake." Though she whispered the words, there was impatience in her voice, too. He tried again, this time more slowly, his fingers a little less clumsy and much more successful. He smoothed the blouse from her shoulders, allowing it to glide to the floor.

He barely squelched the frustrated moan building in his throat. There was another blouse beneath the one he had removed. He paused for a moment then forced himself to work the buttons of that as well, this time a little more skillfully. Thankfully, she wore no corset. He was certain he would have knotted the laces instead of loosening them in his haste to feel her skin. At last, he took off her short chemise, pulling the garment over her head and tossing it in the corner. His mouth twisted into a smile as he plucked the string that held up her drawers, allowing the light garment to slip down her legs and puddle at her feet.

She didn't try to cover herself. Not at all. She stood proudly in front of him, her back straight, her head tilted to the side, her eyes flashing with desire.

He gazed at her naked form with awe, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe and back, the candlelight reflecting on her smooth skin, creating an almost rosy glow. Years of riding had defined her muscles, but there was a softness to her, too. He inhaled deeply. She was perfect in every way—from her long muscular legs to her nipped-in waist, to her heavy breasts that seemed to beg for his touch. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice sounding thick to his own ears.

She didn't acknowledge his statement. Instead, she pulled him closer, but there was a pinkish glow on her cheeks and a mischievous glint in her eyes as she reached for the fastening of his trousers. She, at least, didn't seem to have as much trouble, and in moments, his legs were bare, though his trousers stuck on his boots. He eased her down until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "I should probably take off my boots."

"That would be helpful." She stared up at him, her pupils so dilated, all he could see was black with just a hint of color at the edges, and that gleam which told him how much she wanted him. The mere thought filled him with a joy he could hardly contain.

He toed off one boot, tossing it in the corner, then pulled off the other and shimmied his trousers to the floor. He turned toward her in all his glory. Her eyes widened with admiration and curiosity. He reached out and caressed her face, then cupped her chin. "You are beautiful."

A blush colored her cheeks as she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "So are you. Kiss me again. And again, until neither of us can think."

Jake laughed softly. "Yes, ma'am." He lowered his head and took possession of her mouth, his tongue gliding between her lips to tangle with hers.

She pulled away, her fingers caressing his lips. "More," she demanded, her voice husky and almost raw with need.

He complied, his mouth on hers once again, his tongue twisting with hers, her body pressed against his so close he could feel her pounding heart beating in rhythm with his, the warmth of her body nearly burning him where they touched. He eased her down to the mattress gently, his lips never leaving hers, and followed, stretching out beside her.

She gasped, sucking in air, when he finally broke the kiss. "Touch me." Again, it was a command, one he was more than willing to obey.

"My pleasure." It was his pleasure. Her flesh felt like velvet beneath his fingers as he caressed her, starting with the soft skin on her face, then venturing lower, touching her throat and collarbones, then finally the crease between her full breasts. He followed each touch with his lips, kissing every inch of her, the faint scent of roses stronger now.

How many times had he dreamed of touching her this way? Of caressing her soft skin. Of lying down beside her, letting his hand roam over her taut, lean body? Too many times to count. Each time he took pencil in hand to draw her, this is what he thought about. This and so much more.

Evie let out a sigh and pulled him closer, her fingers in his hair, almost as if directing him where to kiss or lick next. He settled at her breast, lightly grazing the nipple with his teeth before licking the soft crest into a hardened peak and drawing it into his mouth, sucking lightly. Beneath him, her breath came in soft, little pants, as he left one breast and concentrated on the other.

Evie sighed, her hands skimming over his back, his shoulders, and around his neck, as if she couldn't get enough of touching him, either. Had she dreamed of this as well? Had she awakened with her body on fire, the visions in her head vibrant, only to realize she was alone?

He dismissed the thought and concentrated on loving her. He moved slightly, kissing his way back to her mouth, capturing her lips with his for a long, slow kiss before moving to her neck. Her breathing increased, coming in soft little pants as he lightly swirled his tongue against the delicate shell of her ear, drawing the lobe into his mouth, tugging gently with his teeth while his fingers grazed over her breast. Evie gave a little whimper then arched her back, pushing against his hand, showing him without words that she wanted more.

Again, he was more than happy to comply as he brushed his lips against hers, then took possession of her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers, the taste of her intoxicating, filling his head as well as his heart and soul.

Though his mouth never left hers, his hand roamed over her soft belly, edging downward until he slipped his fingers easily between the springy curls of her womanhood to find the core of her.

"Oh!" Evie gasped against his lips, followed by another intake of breath as he slowly began caressing the smoothness of her folds and the key to her release between them. He set a rhythm, slow and steady, increasing the pressure a little at a time, the moans and little cries from deep in her throat spurring him faster. He slipped a finger into her, then another, stretching her, preparing her for his entry, while pressing the palm of his hand against her in a circular motion. If it had been a long time, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

Another breathy sigh met his ears and suddenly, she stiffened, her heels digging into the mattress, her hips rising off the bed, straining against his hand. She let out a surprised cry and then she laughed in that husky tone that filled his head, her hips lowering to the bed as her body shuddered around his fingers, moving once more to the rhythm he'd set.

His mouth took possession of hers. Withdrawing his fingers, he brought his hand up to caress her soft, round belly and full breasts. Taking his time, he stroked her skin, bringing her nipples to hard points again, before leaving her lips and drawing one of those nipples into his mouth, sucking lightly, swirling his tongue against the sensitive peak.

Evie squirmed beneath him as he paid attention to one breast then the other, then moved to position himself between her legs. He felt the heat of her, scalding in its intensity, as he eased into her, slowly, inch by inch, so he wouldn't hurt her, allowing her body to become accustomed to his length and width.

Evie let out a little whimper.

He stopped, though it pained him to do so, and looked at her. "Am I hurting you?"

She shook her head on the pillow, her eyes half closed. Roses bloomed on her cheeks and a fine sheen of perspiration glowed on her face, extending down to her neck and chest, which heaved with each indrawn breath. She didn't answer in words, simply wrapped her strong legs around his thighs, pulling him in deeper, until his body pressed tightly against her.

Jake groaned. He couldn't help himself. She was so warm, so tight, so wet. He needed a moment, more than a moment, to collect himself and gain control, which was easier said than done as Evie began to move beneath him once more. She may not have done this in a long time, but her body remembered. Her urgency communicated itself to him and he found himself lifting, then plunging into her to fulfill her silent plea.

She whimpered as he glided in and out of her, holding on to his restraint for as long as he possibly could. Her nails dug into his back and her legs tightened around him even more as she moved with him, faster and faster until he thought he couldn't wait anymore, but wait he would. For her. Until she received her pleasure again, until she cried out his name. The ache of holding back, of waiting, when all he wanted to do was explode inside her, was exquisite.

"Now, Jake!" Her thighs pressed against him as her nails dug into his backside, and then her body was pulsing around him, squeezing the length of him with such power, he nearly cried out himself.

Every muscle in his body tightened as he plunged into her one last time, the force of his release making him groan. His toes curled and a shiver raced through him. At that exact moment came a sense of completeness, not for the act itself, but for how it made him feel. Inside. Deep in his heart.

He belonged . With her. With the entire extended family. For the first time in his life, he was part of something bigger than himself. It was a heady feeling, and a curious thought to have at this moment, but there it was, and it made him hesitant to leave Evie's heat.

He opened his eyes and gazed at her face bathed in the light of the flickering candles, her eyes still half-closed. A small, satisfied smile tilted the corners of her mouth. He dropped a kiss on each corner and slowly withdrew from her, though he was more than reluctant to do so, then gathered her close. "Evie? Are you all right?"

She snuggled up to him and let out a sigh of what sounded like contentment. "Hmmm." And then she giggled, sounding like a young girl. "Can we do that again?"

He laughed and held her tighter, letting his heartbeat return to normal, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Just give me a minute or two."

Candlelight flickered over Jake's face, showing the dark whiskers on his cheeks, chin, and over his upper lip as Evie cuddled a bit closer, her head resting on his shoulder, her leg thrown over his—a most unladylike position, and yet she didn't care. She wanted…no, needed …to feel his warmth, to feel the length of his body along hers. She laid her hand on his chest, the thick hair there tickling her palm as his arm tightened around her, supporting her back, keeping her close.

Who would have thought she'd feel like this? Like she could walk among the clouds, or that making love would make her feel so energized, but completely sated at the same time. And a bit more confident, yet still unsure. She couldn't believe how daring she'd been, demanding that he kiss her, insisting he touch her. Or how wonderful it felt to have him comply, his hands so gentle as they caressed her, smoothing over her body like he worshipped every inch of her. And still, she had wanted more, wanted to feel him inside her, his fullness stretching her, bringing her to the heights she hadn't known existed until that burst of pleasure made thinking impossible and all she could do was let herself feel.

God help her, she wanted to experience that again…and again. Did that make her wanton? She didn't care if it did. Already, her blood was rushing through her veins, just thinking about what they'd done, what he'd made her feel. She smiled as a blush heated her face, and continued her slow perusal.

His eyes were closed, his long thick lashes shadowing his cheek. A silly little grin played on his lips, and his chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm, but she didn't think he was sleeping. Was he thinking the same thing as she? Did he feel like he could walk on the clouds? Would he want to make love again? Could he?

So many questions, none that she would ever ask aloud, but there was still a way she could find out. She moved slightly, drawing closer, and planted kisses along his jawline while her fingers smoothed through the soft mat of hair on his chest, then lower to feel the hard muscles of his abdomen.

"What are you doing?"

His voice startled her, and she giggled in response. "Touching you. Is that all right?"

"More than all right." He let out a subdued chuckle but didn't move otherwise, as if giving himself over to her curiosity. "Do what you will."

Encouraged by his invitation, unsure of what she was doing, only that she'd loved the things he'd done to her, Evie lifted herself up on her elbow. She gazed into his warm amber eyes as her fingers drew lazy circles across his stomach, then upward to rake through the hair on his chest once more as she leaned over and kissed him, her tongue tracing the outline of his lips before he opened his mouth and allowed her entrance. She kissed him with all the passion and love she had for him, her mouth taking possession of his, feeling that breathlessness that accompanied the touch of his lips.

Jake sighed when she pulled away to plant soft kisses on his cheek, his forehead, the place where his skin met his hair just above his ear. Her hand slid over his nipple, amazed that it could become hard like hers had. Intrigued, she moved slightly, kissing her way down his neck, across his collarbone, and lower until she could draw that hard nipple into her mouth. She tasted salt and soap against her tongue as she swirled it around and around, just as he had done to her.

Jake whispered her name and started to caress her arms, her back, then sweep up the back of her neck to plunge his fingers into her hair, the heat of his touch searing her deep in her soul.

She glanced up at him and caught the expression on his face…it was a combination of intense pleasure and even more intense concentration. His brow was furrowed, but his eyes were wide open, watching her, the heat in their depths unmistakable.

"Has it been a minute or two?" Was that her voice, so raw, so impatient, so thick with desire? She didn't wait for him to answer as her fingers quested lower and she wrapped her hand around his hard, smooth length.

He stiffened for a moment then groaned. "I believe it has," he answered. She heard the strain in his voice as if he struggled to let her explore him.

She straddled him then, impaling herself on his erection and sat still for a moment, allowing herself to adjust to the size of him. Then she began to move, slowly at first, rising up then lowering herself, using the muscles in her legs to control her actions.

His hands were everywhere—finally released from the control he exerted—caressing her face, her throat, her shoulders, her breasts. His thumbs flicked her nipples, drawing them into hard points.

Evie moaned with pleasure as he rose up a little and his mouth replaced his hands, his tongue tenderly swirling around the crest before drawing the taut peak into his mouth and sucking gently.

Blood coursed through her veins, and her heart pounded in her ears as his mouth captured her other breast and her body began to tense, building toward that same explosion as before. And she wanted to feel that sweet ecstasy. She quickened her pace and his hands slid to her hips, guiding her, pushing the rhythm. His eyes were closed now, sweat beaded on his forehead, but that little smile played on his lips. And then his eyes flew open to stare into the depths of her very soul as his fingers found the key to her release between their bodies and pressed hard.

That look was all it took to push her over the edge. Her body tightened, spiraling almost out of control, soaring higher and higher. If heaven was just beyond the stars, she found it. Her climax hit her with such force, she cried out. And still, she kept riding him, her body pulsing around him, feeling the hard length of him inside her. She picked up the pace—faster—harder—until he, too, shouted in satisfaction and filled her with his essence. She fell on him, her mouth once more taking possession of his, her tongue tangling with his.

She sat up, still impaled on him, and gazed into his eyes, her hands resting on his chest, her fingers spread over his hard muscles. She moved slightly, rising up from him, though she didn't want to. Not really.

"No, not yet." He brought his hands to her hips and held her in place, his smile so mischievous, so full of delightfully wicked intentions that she settled herself on him once again, leaned over and kissed him. When she broke the kiss, he laughed. "That's better."

"You know I'm going to have to move…eventually."

"I know. I just don't want you to." He smoothed his hands along her thighs. "Are your legs cramping?"

She shook her head. "No, not at all, but I am a little thirsty."

He smiled up at her, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Come to think of it, I'm a bit parched myself."

"Whiskey? Bourbon?" There had to be some of each in the kitchen if Peque?a Casa was used as much as Marisol said. "Water?"

"Champagne? I think this night definitely calls for champagne."

"I don't think we have any, but I'll have to get up in order to look."

Jake laughed as his hands grasped her shoulders, pulled her toward him and took possession of her mouth once more. "I'll stay thirsty."