Read Online Tallchief: The Homecoming by Cait London - Free Book Online
Authors: Cait London
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And then you walked out.”
It was the truth. Oliver hadn’t resisted anything she wanted, even the divorce. It was her father who fought— “Let’s talk about your wife, shall we?” she cut back at Liam.
She hadn’t expect the tender shadows enveloping him as he spoke. “Sweet, sensitive, loving. I loved her. She died when J.T. was born, and I’ll never forgive myself for letting her talk me into the pregnancy. She wasn’t well—”
“You regret your son? That beautiful, sweet baby?” Michelle’s statement cut harshly into the night.
“No. He’s everything to me. Karen gave him to me, and he was what she wanted, to leave a bit of herselfalive and healthy as she’d never been…. This is what I do regret—” Then his hand cupped the back of her head, and he took her mouth, searing her with heat, fusing his lips to hers. The stormy emotions locked her immobile and she could do nothing, but taste and feel. She slanted her head to tighten the fight, and the pleased, hungry growl coming from low in Liam’s throat was a unique, first pleasure. He freed her wrists and filled his fists with her hair, his mouth moving eagerly, hungrily upon hers. His scent filled her, the heat of his body, and she was soaring to a heavenly, exciting place she’d never been—
She had to capture him, to hold him close, and she touched his hard stomach, smoothed the ridges with her fingertips and heard his sharp inhaling breath against her cheek. He stood still, shivering, heat pouring from him, his hands trembling as they left her hair and began stroking her back. He was giving her a choice, she sensed, to take or to walk away—
Then those stormy gray eyes moved slowly down her body to the shirt torn by the brush on her run to the lake and freed of its upper buttons. His gaze locked on her breasts, clad in beige lace and with a big hand open upon her back, he gently eased her against him, watching the fit of their bodies. He breathed shallowly, his features harsh, and she knew that one word, one movement would free her.
She desperately wanted him to touch her, to cup the soft flesh he was studying, nestled against his chest, that dark passionate expression branding her. She held him tight, anchoring him close. This powerful, beautiful man wanted, and yet would not take without permission—She didn’t know how to tempt him, and when she breathed deeply, her flesh rising against his, he groaned unsteadily. Slowly, watching her, he lifted his hand to carefully, reverently mold her breast. His thumb ran across the crest of a hardened nipple and he circled it slowly. She could no more have moved than she could start her heart beating again—the magical touch sucked away her breath and made her head spin.
“Why haven’t you had children, pretty witch? The real reason, not the canned words you’ve prepared for others,” he asked roughly, caressing her as her hands slid upward in the storm of unsteady emotions, to dig into his hard, safe shoulders.
“I haven’t felt the need—” The rest of the words were caught by his lips, the kiss gentle now, searching and tempting and heating. His hands locked around her waist, then eased to her hips, fingers digging in slightly. She knew then, deep within her, that she’d needed a man to hold her tight, to test her strength as a woman. She needed a force equal to hers, to the wild, reckless calling within her—kept hidden too long. She parted her lips against the gentle nudge of his tongue and quivered as the kiss deepened, heat rocking their bodies, much as the earth trembled around a volcano before it released the red-hot lava—
Liam’s hands caressed a downward path to smooth her bottom and then eased her closer to his hardened desire. His whisper was hoarse and unsteady against her lips, “Don’t play games. I don’t. The air is filled with your body’s sweet warmth mixed with that wildflower—”
The statement was shocking, elemental, but she refused to acknowledge
It was the truth. Oliver hadn’t resisted anything she wanted, even the divorce. It was her father who fought— “Let’s talk about your wife, shall we?” she cut back at Liam.
She hadn’t expect the tender shadows enveloping him as he spoke. “Sweet, sensitive, loving. I loved her. She died when J.T. was born, and I’ll never forgive myself for letting her talk me into the pregnancy. She wasn’t well—”
“You regret your son? That beautiful, sweet baby?” Michelle’s statement cut harshly into the night.
“No. He’s everything to me. Karen gave him to me, and he was what she wanted, to leave a bit of herselfalive and healthy as she’d never been…. This is what I do regret—” Then his hand cupped the back of her head, and he took her mouth, searing her with heat, fusing his lips to hers. The stormy emotions locked her immobile and she could do nothing, but taste and feel. She slanted her head to tighten the fight, and the pleased, hungry growl coming from low in Liam’s throat was a unique, first pleasure. He freed her wrists and filled his fists with her hair, his mouth moving eagerly, hungrily upon hers. His scent filled her, the heat of his body, and she was soaring to a heavenly, exciting place she’d never been—
She had to capture him, to hold him close, and she touched his hard stomach, smoothed the ridges with her fingertips and heard his sharp inhaling breath against her cheek. He stood still, shivering, heat pouring from him, his hands trembling as they left her hair and began stroking her back. He was giving her a choice, she sensed, to take or to walk away—
Then those stormy gray eyes moved slowly down her body to the shirt torn by the brush on her run to the lake and freed of its upper buttons. His gaze locked on her breasts, clad in beige lace and with a big hand open upon her back, he gently eased her against him, watching the fit of their bodies. He breathed shallowly, his features harsh, and she knew that one word, one movement would free her.
She desperately wanted him to touch her, to cup the soft flesh he was studying, nestled against his chest, that dark passionate expression branding her. She held him tight, anchoring him close. This powerful, beautiful man wanted, and yet would not take without permission—She didn’t know how to tempt him, and when she breathed deeply, her flesh rising against his, he groaned unsteadily. Slowly, watching her, he lifted his hand to carefully, reverently mold her breast. His thumb ran across the crest of a hardened nipple and he circled it slowly. She could no more have moved than she could start her heart beating again—the magical touch sucked away her breath and made her head spin.
“Why haven’t you had children, pretty witch? The real reason, not the canned words you’ve prepared for others,” he asked roughly, caressing her as her hands slid upward in the storm of unsteady emotions, to dig into his hard, safe shoulders.
“I haven’t felt the need—” The rest of the words were caught by his lips, the kiss gentle now, searching and tempting and heating. His hands locked around her waist, then eased to her hips, fingers digging in slightly. She knew then, deep within her, that she’d needed a man to hold her tight, to test her strength as a woman. She needed a force equal to hers, to the wild, reckless calling within her—kept hidden too long. She parted her lips against the gentle nudge of his tongue and quivered as the kiss deepened, heat rocking their bodies, much as the earth trembled around a volcano before it released the red-hot lava—
Liam’s hands caressed a downward path to smooth her bottom and then eased her closer to his hardened desire. His whisper was hoarse and unsteady against her lips, “Don’t play games. I don’t. The air is filled with your body’s sweet warmth mixed with that wildflower—”
The statement was shocking, elemental, but she refused to acknowledge
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