A man with a dark secret and a woman without a heritage fight
to have it all even as the world tries to tear them apart...
Malachi Hawkins left his home to move west as soon as he was
old enough. Running from a family secret that he can never escape,
he takes a job on the ranch of an old family friend, Lee Rose.
The first night he’s there, he meets Christian Rose, Lee’s
foster daughter, a young woman of mixed Comanche blood. They call
her a savage and treat her like the family slave, but Mal doesn’t
see a savage at all. He sees a woman of unbelievable strength—and
a kindred spirit.
But his secret is bound to catch up with him, and when it does,
it could destroy both of them forever...
.
Excerpt
“Kiss me, please, Malachi.” The request, like almost
everything she said, was just a hint of sound. He wasn’t
even sure he heard it, but he did feel it. Each word winding
through him, down into his chest, burrowing into his flesh.
He cupped the back of her head, his fingers splaying across
her skull. Her eyes were dark stars, and they tracked his movement
as he found her mouth again. Her lips parted almost before he
was ready, and the tip of her tongue electrified him—his
spine tingled, his cheeks prickled, his cock hardened. She tasted
like the candy she had bought earlier that day, and the coffee
she drank after dinner. She tasted familiar.
Christian steadied herself by gripping his shoulders, and her
fingers were like steel bands in his flesh. He wasn’t sure
if she was trying to keep herself from falling, or trying to
keep him from leaving. Either way, she had nothing to worry
about. He wouldn’t let her go, and he wasn’t about
to try to get away from her. He had only known her for a few
days, but it felt like he had been waiting his entire life for
this kiss.
Careful not to disturb the lantern, Mal laid back until he
was flat, and she straddled his hips. The floorboards were uncomfortably
hard, and sharp leafs of hay pressed into his spine and bare
neck. She lifted his hat from his head without breaking the
kiss, allowing herself easier access to his mouth, cheek, and
brow.
She buried her face in his neck, and he wrapped his arms around
her, locking her in his embrace. Her curves were soft against
his harder muscles, but he could still feel her strength.
“I want to be yours, Malachi.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be any good for you, Christian.
I’m just a poor cowboy. I don’t even have a home to
call my own.”
“I’m not looking for a home.”
What are you looking for? Mal didn’t ask the question.
He didn’t need to. She was looking for what they all sought,
ultimately—love, trust, a connection. They already had
a connection. He’d felt it the moment he looked at her,
and he could feel it now, as her heart pounded in her thin chest,
hammering against his.
“I’ll be anything I can,” Mal promised, before
their lips touched a third time. She made the lowest sound in
the back of her throat—like a whimper or a moan. He didn’t
know how to define it, but it went straight into the center
of him.
Mal put his hands on her hips, holding her in place as he pulled
her dress up with his fingers. He thought she would stop him
from taking such liberties with her, but instead of slapping
his hands away, she straightened and tugged the threadbare garment
over her head. She wore nothing beneath the dress, and she didn’t
turn away from his stare. She let him study her body, from her
small but rounded breasts, to the skin stretched tight over
her ribs, to the dark patch of hair between her thighs.
There were also winding, white scars, covering her skin like
a map. He traced a scar with his fingertips, a question in his
touch.
“What was used? A horsewhip?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Christian didn’t answer. Maybe she didn’t have an
explanation, or maybe she didn’t believe he needed to hear
it. Mal didn’t push. It wasn’t his business, and if
she wanted him to know, she would tell him in time. But that
didn’t stop him from following the marks and welts with
his fingers, delicately acknowledging each unjust hit.
Christian slid back until she straddled his legs, her bottom
resting just above his knees. She could reach his belt in her
new position and she pulled it free with little effort. He didn’t
stop touching her while she worked on his pants. His fingers
roamed over her arms, her neck, her jaw. A part of him was convinced
he needed to indulge in as much contact as he could, and hoard
every caress, for fear he would never get another chance. Anything
could keep them apart from each other, and in the morning, this
could seem like nothing more than a dream. Mal didn’t want
to risk that. He didn’t want to risk getting caught with
nothing but a memory, and regret he didn’t touch her enough
or show her how he felt.
Mal shuddered as Christian reached into his pants to grip his
length. He had never noticed just how rough her fingers were
until they were caressing his smooth shaft. She touched him
boldly, without any sense of hesitation or fear.
“I’m not your first, am I?”
“No.” She crossed her arms in a plainly defensive
gesture. “Does this mean you don’t want me?”
Mal took her wrists and gently forced her to uncross her arms.
“Of course not.” He caressed her pounding pulse with
his thumb. “I want you, Christian. You.”
“I’m not a…”
“I know you’re not.”
Christian slid up his body, until the tip of his cock was touching
the welcoming flesh between her legs. He could smell hints of
her arousal over the hay and dust, and her heat seeped through
him. His cock jerked, the wet tip brushing against her skin.
She leaned forward, bracing herself against his chest with one
hand while she positioned his cock at her opening with the other...
