Catherine clenched her teeth in frustration. How could he make her so breathless after what he had put her through?
Why was her body so determined to betray her? And right then, she wished desperately for an off switch to stop the overwhelming desire coursing through her veins.
Tend his wound, tend his wound - she mentally repeated the words over and over, hoping to gain some control over herself.
I will not succumb to him!
By all that was holy, she wouldn't.
Untying his bandage, Catherine immediately saw the bullet wound. "You've been shot?"
"And can you believe it wasn't by you?"
She stiffened at his playful tone. "You're not funny."
"Not even a little?"
"I told you, Mr. O'Callahan, I'm immune to your charms."
Don't you wish! If only she could live up to those brave words.
"I wish you'd stop calling me that," he snapped at her. "I have a name and you used to use it."
She didn't dare use it right then, because if she did, she had no doubt she would be his to do with as he pleased. Just the sound of those syllables on her tongue would be enough to finish her off.
She struggled to bring herself under control. "I used to do a lot of things with you that I don't do anymore."
"Such as?"
"Use your imagination."
That silver-gray gaze dipped to her breasts, which drew tight and heavy at his heated perusal. "Oh, I'm using it, all right. And I can well imagine the sound of your sighs of pleasure in my ear as I nibble the flesh of your neck. Do you remember?"
"No," she lied, her voice amazingly calm.
But in spite of her denials, she felt her body melt against the heat of that silver-gray stare. Even worse, she could smell the warm, uniquely masculine scent of him. It was all she could do not to bury her face in the crook of his neck and inhale the intoxicating scent.
Tend his wound, tend his wound! She forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.
"Is the bullet still in there?" she asked as she examined the hole in his arm.
"Woman," he said huskily, his gaze never leaving her breasts, "right now I have a loaded gun just waiting to..." his voice trailed off.
He finally looked up and met her gaze, but she couldn't read anything in the smoldering depths of his eyes except the raw hunger that scorched her through and through. "Did I just say that out loud?"
She nodded.
He cleared his throat and looked across the room. "No," he said quickly. "The bullet passed clean through."
Disregarding his answer, she gingerly examined the wound to see for herself. As he predicted, it looked to be clean. "It needs to be stitched."
He met her gaze again. Only three inches separated their faces and she could feel his breath on her face as he spoke. "Then by all means, have at it. I'm sure nothing would give you greater pleasure than to take a needle to my hide."
She should take pleasure in it, but she knew she wouldn't. How could she ever delight in hurting the man who had stolen her heart?
But she would never let him know that. Not after he'd hurt her. No, she'd never let him know just how much power he still held over her.
Never.
"Actually, I won't feel anything," she said, reaching for her basket.
O'Connell clenched his teeth in repressed frustration.
I won't feel anything, he mocked silently as she reached for a needle and thread.
You stitch the wound, and when you're finished, I promise you you'll feel something, all right. She was going to remember his touch if it was the last thing he did.
O'Connell felt himself harden even more as she placed the thread between her lips and licked it. The tip of her tongue poked out as she threaded the needle.
I can't stand this. His mind screamed from the needless torment. If he didn't know better, he would swear she did it on purpose.
When she set to work on his wound, he felt no pain, only the pleasure of her soft hands against his bare flesh. Her breath fell against his shoulder as she leaned so close to him he could smell the fresh sunshine of her.
Over and over he could envision letting her hair down and burying his hands in the thick waves. Feeling it fall across his chest as he placed her above him and feasted on those plump, luscious breasts.
Catherine could barely steady her hand as she closed the wound. Her memory of touching his hard, hot muscles couldn't compete with the reality of her hand against him now.
Her head swam at the contact. Worse, she could feel his heat surrounding her, feel his breath against her neck. His shoulder pressing against her right breast.
A thousand chills shot through her. It was all she could do not to moan and demand he take her right then and there. Oh, it was torturous. Especially after all the years she had yearned to see him again, all the years she had lain awake remembering the feel of him lying against her. The feel of him sliding inside her.
After what seemed an eternity, she finished the four tiny stitches that closed the wound. She had barely tied the knot off when he reached up, cupped her face in his hand, and took possession of her lips.
Catherine sighed at the contact.
He'd been the only man who had ever kissed her and the taste of him had been branded into her memory long, long ago.
He pulled her to him possessively and sat her down on the bench before him as he plundered her mouth.
Catherine buried her hands in his silken hair and pressed her breasts against his hot, naked chest. She should stop him, she knew it. But for her life she didn't want to. All she wanted was to savor him like she'd done all those years ago.
Volcanic heat poured through her body, pooling itself between her legs as she ached for him in the most primitive of ways. She wanted him desperately. And only he could pacify the aching heat that demanded his body inside hers.
He was her husband and the part of her that still loved him came rushing to the forefront. Under the assault of his scorching kiss, that part of her took possession of her common sense and forced it to flee her mind.
Before she knew what was happening, she felt her hair fall down around her shoulders and it was only then that he pulled back from her lips to kiss her cheek, her eyelid, the tip of her nose. His lips were hot and moist as they branded a fiery trail over her face.
"My precious Catherine," he whispered in her ear. "Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."
She felt his hands unbuttoning her shirtwaist. She wanted to tell him no, but in truth she couldn't. The words lodged in her throat because deep down she wanted him. She had always wanted him, and no matter how badly he had hurt her, there was still a part of her that needed him.
And she gave herself over to that part.
He opened her shirtwaist, then buried those hot lips against the tops of her breasts as his hands reached around back to unlace her corset. She sighed in pleasure as she buried her face in his hair and inhaled the wicked, warm scent that was her husband.
O'Connell's head swam from the scent of her as he buried his face between the soft mounds of her breasts and licked her salty skin. It had been so long since he tasted her, felt her, and he knew that he would spend the rest of this night making up for the five years they had been apart.
The five long years he had been without a woman.
In her arms, he had always felt that anything was possible. That he could do anything, be anything. No other person had ever lifted him to the heights of goodness and pleasure that she did.
She was the one truth in his life that he could depend on. The one person he truly needed.
He ran his tongue over the tops of her breasts, delighting in the way she shivered in his arms as he struggled with the corset laces.
And at that moment he despised whoever had invented the cursed thing. It had to be some old, doddering matron seeking to preserve her daughter's virtue, for no man would ever design so inconvenient a contraption.
At last he loo
sened it to where he could free her breasts to his hungry mouth.
Catherine cupped his head to her as she stifled a moan of pure pleasure. His hand caressed her swollen breasts, drawing the taut nipples so tight she could barely stand it. Heat tore through her body as an ache started deep in the center of her. It was a familiar longing that she only felt in his presence.
No other man had ever aroused her the way he did. No one. And she doubted if anyone ever could.
And then his hands were under her skirt, stroking and teasing as they skimmed over her calves and thighs. One hand cupped her buttocks as he wrapped his other arm around her and drew her up tight against him.
He reclaimed her lips for one hungry, pulsating kiss, then pulled back.
He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head to look at him. His lips were swollen from her kisses and he stared at her as if he were dreaming.
The need and hunger in that silver-gray gaze mesmerized her. Her breathing ragged, she could do nothing but stare up at him in wonderment.
"Say my name," he demanded, stroking her swollen lips gently with his knuckles.
She hesitated.
But what was the point? She had already surrendered herself to him. And for some reason she couldn't fathom, she wanted to please him.
"Michael," she breathed.
He smiled, then returned to torture her mouth with sweet bliss.
He rose with her in his arms. "Where's your room?"
"In there," she said, pointing to the back hallway and the room on the left.
Limping all the way, he carried her to it then shut the door with the heel of his burned foot. "Where's the lamp?"
Catherine squirmed out of his arms and moved to find her chest of drawers to the left of the door. Too dark to see, she groped along the smooth top as he came up behind her and cupped her breasts in his hands.
She moaned as he toyed with her and heat swept through her body.
"You're making this difficult," she said, then sighed at the feel of his lips on the back of her neck as he pressed his swollen shaft against her hip.
He gave one last possessive squeeze to her breasts, then released her. "Light the lamp," he said, his voice ragged. "I want to see you. All of you."
Quickly, she found the glass lamp. Lifting the globe, she took one of the matches beside it and lit it. She turned the wick down to a low, warm glow that made their shadows dance on the far wall.
Michael came up behind her again and placed a kiss on her shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist to pull her close to his chest. She leaned her head back, savoring the feel of him. The strength and warmth in his powerful arms. His deep groan echoed in her ears and she sighed contentedly.
Slowly, he began undoing her clothes.
"Michael, what - "
"Shh," he said, placing a finger to her lips. "I want to savor you like a wrapped gift. Slowly. Carefully and with relish."
And so he did. She didn't move as he took her shirtwaist off, then her skirt and petticoats. Her corset went next, exposing her upper body to him. She shivered from the cool air against their skin, but his hot gaze warmed her as he untied her pantaloons, then dropped them to the floor.
She swallowed as she stood naked before him.
O'Connell thought he'd go mad as he stared at her bare body. Not even his memory had been able to hold on to the true beauty that was his Catherine.
And for this one night she was his.
All his.
He reached out and ran one hand over her right breast, delighting in the way her nipple hardened to his touch. Then, he trailed his hand over her abdomen to the curls at the juncture of her thighs. She moaned as he slid his fingers against her.
His mind reeled at the hotness of her body, at the sleek wetness in his hand. She was as ready for him as he was for her, but he didn't want to rush this.
He wanted this night to last a lifetime.
"I am going to savor you," he told her. "Every single inch of you."
Catherine couldn't respond verbally. Her mind numb, she could do nothing more than watch him watch her.
He picked her up again and carried her to the bed, where he removed her shoes, then carefully rolled down her stockings, nibbling her legs as he went.
As she started to sit up, he held her in place with one hand and shook his head. "Let me look at you lying there. I want to see you naked in your bed."
And look he did. His gaze traveled from the top of her head down to her breasts, to her stomach, her hips and legs, and then it returned to the center of her body, which thrummed with a hot, demanding need.
He lifted his hands to her thighs and spread her legs wider.
"Michael - "
"Let me look at you."
So she did, and his look burned even more than his touch. He leaned his head down and placed a tender kiss just below her belly button. His hot breath scorched her as his teeth tormented her flesh. He trailed his kisses lower, down to the inside of her thighs. Catherine closed her eyes and moaned as his lips brushed up against the center of her body.
Then he pulled back.
As if sensing how she ached for him, he quickly shed his own clothes, then climbed up between her legs. His entire body caressed hers in a long, luscious stroke.
She moaned at the erotic pleasure it delivered as her body arched to meet his. She felt him from the tips of her toes to the tips of her aching breasts, all the way to her forehead, where he placed a tender kiss.
His hot, stiff shaft rested on her belly.
Wanting him too badly to wait, she reached down between their bodies and stroked the velvety hardness of him. He hissed in her ear as she cupped him gently, then sought to guide him into her.
But he would have none of it.
Without entering her, Michael rolled to her side before his mouth returned to hers. He skimmed his hand over her body, then buried it between her legs.
Catherine hissed in pleasure as her hips lifted instinctively toward his hand.
He pulled back to stare down at her. "So," he whispered as his fingers toyed with the sensitive flesh between her thighs. He plunged one finger deep inside her, swirling it around and teasing her with pure, unadulterated pleasure. "Do you remember me now?"
"Yes," she gasped as his fingers did the most wicked things to her body.
He teased and toyed, his fingers circling and delving, faster and faster, until she was breathless from her aching need.
"And do you remember this?" he asked as he circled the core of her body with his thumb.
"Yes," she gasped again as her entire body throbbed.
He smiled a tender smile. "Now tell me what you want."
"I want to feel you deep inside me. Now."
He released her.
Catherine whimpered until he picked her up and moved her yet again. "What are you doing now?"
He led her to where her mirror stood in the corner. "You'll see," he whispered in her ear, raising chills on her arms.
He stood her before the mirror, where she could watch his hands as they caressed her body, kneaded her breasts, and masterfully stroked the flesh of her stomach.
He brushed her hair over her right shoulder to where it covered most of her and buried his lips in the curve of her neck.
Reaching up over her head, she buried her hand in his hair and groaned in pleasure.
"You still smell like sunshine," he whispered in her ear before swirling his tongue over the sensitive flesh. And when he plunged his tongue inside her ear, she melted and moaned as her entire body erupted into flames.
Catherine trembled all over as she watched his hands cup her breasts possessively. He pressed them, kneaded them, caressed them until she could barely stand it.
"I want to touch you," she said hoarsely, trying to turn around in his arms.
He stopped her. "You will," he said. "But not yet. Not until I devour you."
"Then devour me."
His rich laugh echoed in her ear. "Yes, ma'am," he
whispered. "I'm more than happy to oblige you."
And then he trailed kisses down her spine. Slowly, methodically, covering every tiny inch of her flesh. She didn't know how her legs managed to keep her standing, for they trembled until she was sure she would fall.
His warm breath caressed her flesh as his hot, wet mouth teased her skin. He paused at the small of her back, his tongue gently stroking her buttocks. His hands circled around in front of her as he knelt on the floor at her feet.
Then his lips kissed the backs of her thighs, her knees, her calves, and when he got to her ankles, she jumped in erotic pleasure.
He laughed, then nudged her legs farther apart.
Fevered and hot, she did as he wanted and watched in the mirror as he positioned his body between her legs and kissed the front of her knees, her thighs.
He paused at the juncture of her thighs.
Her gaze transfixed by the sight of him in the looking glass, Catherine's entire body pulsed as his hot breath scorched her skin. He ran his left hand through her dark, short curls, kneading her erotically. Then, using both hands, he gently separated the tender folds and buried his mouth at the center of her body.
Tremors of ecstasy shook her.
O'Connell wanted to shout in victory as he tasted the most private part of her. She was his and this part of her was for him alone.
He would never share her! Never.
He ran his tongue over her, delighting in her moans and sighs. In the taste of her body, hot and moist against his starving tongue.
"Please," she begged. "I can't stand any more."
He nipped her tender flesh. "Oh, yes, you can, my love. I've only started with you."
Deciding he had tortured the two of them enough for the moment, he moved to nibble the sensitive flesh of her hip. She buried her hand in his hair. He delighted in the feel of her hands on his scalp.
More hurriedly than before, he kissed his way up her body until he could bury his lips in the hollow of her throat.
He held her tightly against him, reveling in the feel of her naked flesh against his, the feel of her tight nipples burning into his chest.
Catherine lifted one leg up to cup him to her as she arched her body against him, needing desperately to be closer to his heat. His lips burned her throat. She rubbed her hips against his in a silent plea for him to have mercy on her and to squelch the fire scorching her from the inside out.
To her chagrin, he pulled back. Then he took her hands in his and braced them on the frame of the mirror as he moved to stand behind her.