Midnight Lover by Barbara Bretton

swooped her up into his arms then dropped to the ground and rolled with her under the stagecoach. Her heavy skirts rode up over her thighs and she struggled to pull them down before he got a glimpse of her lacy pantalettes but it was no use. He had her pinned with his body and the way they fit together was shameful. His chest was pressed so close to her that she was certain he could feel the outline of her breasts through her blue dress. His hipbones jutted against the slight soft curve of her stomach and she dared not imagine the cause of the powerful heat pressing against her belly.
    He took full advantage of the situation, what with her skirts all tumbled up around her waist and her pantalettes covered with dirt, and positioned himself between her legs and she hated herself for noticing just how handsome he really was. She'd never felt more vulnerable—or more alive—in her entire life.
    "You needn't look so pleased," she hissed as another round of gunfire ricocheted off the stagecoach above them. The sound reminded her of thunder and it took all of her will power to keep her fear hidden. "I don't know how any decent person can live in such a terrible, lawless place like—" She fumbled for words as he brought his mouth closer to hers.
    "Welcome to Silver Spur," Jesse Reardon said.
    And then he kissed her.
     
     

 
    Chapte r 4
     
     
    Caroline heard the unmistakable sound of wood splintering overhead as a bullet found its mark on the stagecoach. The smell of powder burned her nostrils and caused her eyes to water but, at that moment, none of it mattered.
    The ground beneath her back burned hotter than flame, sending waves of heat through her limbs, searing her mind of everything but the feel of his lips on hers. The way his body was pressing her into the dirt, the heavy solid weight of him, the demanding force of his kiss—these were the only things real in a madly spinning world.
    "Don't they teach you to kiss back East," he demanded, lips hot and wild against hers.
    She started to protest, to tell him he was an unthinking cad with the manners of a garden snake to take advantage of such a situation, but the slight parting of her lips was all the invitation he needed. His tongue danced along her lower lip, slid sensuously over her teeth then darted into the cavern of her mouth. No one before had ever caused these violent tremors that were shattering her reserve, turning her into a mindless creature hungry for the touch only a man could provide.
    What on earth was happening to her? Certainly Thomas Addison's caresses had never enflamed her senses the way this cowboy was doing with the deep penetrating kisses that invaded her soul as well as her body.
    How shameful to be entangled with this stranger whose knee rested between her thighs in the most shocking way. Her entire body shook with outrage that she could be so totally—so devastatingly—overwhelmed. Years of control, years of innocence were threatening to vanish like an early morning fog before the rising sun.
    He teased her tongue with his, urging her into a sensual battle whose rules she could not pretend to understand as he slid his hand along her waist, fingers inching upward rib by rib. However, at the first touch of his fingers against the lower curve of her breast, reason returned at last and she managed to kick him in the shin with the sharp toe of her green kid traveling boots.
    "What in hell is wrong with you?" he yelped, rolling off her and cracking his head against the undercarriage of the stage.
    "What is wrong with me?" she retorted, aware again of the smell of dirt and horses all around her. "I'll have you know, sir, I do not take kindly to being manhandled by a stranger."
    "I wasn't manhandling you, lady, I was savin' your life."
    "I wasn't talking about my life; I'm talking about that kiss."
    "I admit that ain't my best kiss, but under the circumstances..."
    She blessed the shadows beneath the coach for she would rather die than let this