He eased down the bodice of her nightgown and found that each perfect breast exactly filled his palms. Her skin was smooth as silk, the small tips as hard as berries. He yearned to take them into his mouth and taste the sweetness.
God, he wanted her. Ached to bury himself inside her.
He kissed the corners of her mouth, her nose, her eyes, tasted the wetness of her tears, and felt a sharp pang in his chest that finally pierced his conscience. His heart was hammering, the arousal beneath his fly hard as stone.
Sam released a shaky breath. “Libby...honey. I can’t do this.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with passion.
“Your uncle was my friend. I can’t betray his trust.”
She just stared. “I know you want me,” she said. “Men always want me.”
His chest tightened. “I want you. I won’t lie about it. But this isn’t what Marty had in mind for you.”
She stiffened, pulled up her nightgown, slid off his lap, and turned to face him. “I don’t care what my uncle had in mind. He’s gone. He’s dead, just like everyone else. I’m my own person now. Uncle Marty doesn’t control my life anymore.”
“Libby...”
“Get out, Sam. Go away and leave me alone.”
He didn’t want to go. He wanted to hold her again, pick up where they’d left off. He rose from the bed and started for the door.
“I probably would have disappointed you anyway,” she said softly from behind him. “I’m not very good at sex.”
Sam turned and walked back to her. Leaning down, he cupped her face in his hands. “You don’t have to be good at it, Libby. You just have to be with the right man.” He kissed her softly one last time. Sam warned himself not to say the words but couldn’t seem to stop himself. “This isn’t over. We’ll have time to figure things out.”
Turning away before he could change his mind and show her exactly how good sex between them could be, Sam opened the door and walked out of the bedroom.
Chapter Eight
As soon as breakfast was over, Libby ran upstairs to change into her riding clothes, pulling on the jeans she had bought at the mercantile, which were snug but comfortable, the boots Fran had assured her wouldn’t hurt her feet even the first time she wore them, and a pale yellow Western shirt with pink roses embroidered on the yoke in back.
The final touch was the straw cowboy hat Fran had insisted she needed as protection against the sun. She grinned as she looked in the mirror. Not bad, she thought, for a city cowgirl.
She grabbed the small overnight bag of necessities she had packed from the list Sam had given each guest and headed out of the house.
The horses were saddled and waiting, along with three mules to carry the supplies. Sam had explained that he would ride in front while Big John rode at the back of the group, leading the pack string. She spotted him talking to his foreman, Julio Santiago, who was staying behind with the rest of the hands to handle the cattle and any ranch problems that might come up.
So far Libby had managed not to think about what happened with Sam in her bedroom last night. It was just a moment of weakness because of the kitten, she told herself. It didn’t mean anything. But dammit, why did the man have to look so incredibly hot this morning?
Just the way he carried himself turned her on, his shoulders so straight, his strides so relaxed and confident. In his dusty straw cowboy hat, khaki T-shirt, snug jeans, and worn boots, he looked as if he’d just stepped out of a city girl’s Western fantasy.
Libby hated him for making her want him all over again.
His eyes raked her from head to foot as he walked up, taking in her hat and boots. The look in those intense dark eyes said she wasn’t the only one who remembered last night.
“You ready?” he asked, his eyes carefully fixed on her face. Libby knew she looked good. Score one for her.
Pasting on a smile, she tipped her head back to look at him from beneath the brim of her hat. “Which horse is mine?”
Sam pointed to a little palomino mare with the sweetest long-lashed brown eyes she’d ever seen. “That’s Sunshine,” he said. “Most of the others have ridden at least once or twice since they got here, so they’re ready to go. I wish you’d had the chance, but you don’t need to worry. Sunshine’s good-natured and easy to handle, and you’ll be riding right behind me.”
Oh, lucky me! She could watch his broad back and tight buns all the way to the top of the mountain.
“You were raised on a farm,” Sam said. “You know how to ride, right?”
“We used to have a couple of horses, but it was a long time ago.”
“I’m sure it’ll come back to you, but I can give you a quick refresher course.”
Sam walked her over to Sunshine, who turned a patient look in her direction.
“All you have to do is grab the horn, stick your boot in the stirrup, and swing up into the saddle.”
She bent to the task, saddle leather creaking as she settled herself in the seat.
Sam adjusted the position of her boot. “Stirrups are just about right.” He lifted the reins over Sunshine’s head. “She’s got a soft mouth, so keep your touch light. You remember how to use the reins?”
Surprisingly, she did. And sitting on a horse again felt good. Really good.
He smoothed a gloved hand down Sunshine’s sleek neck, and she remembered his palm kneading her breast. A rush of heat hit her that had nothing to do with the warm sun and everything to do with how good he’d made her feel.
Sam rested a hand on her thigh, then hastily jerked it away. “Just relax and have fun, okay?”
Ignoring a fresh rush of heat, Libby focused on the day ahead. She had decided to make the best of the situation. Other people were there to have fun. She wasn’t going to spoil it for them.
Or so she thought until she saw Max and Vince come out of Wolverine Cabin and walk toward them.
“I thought they were staying behind to fish,” Libby said.
“They changed their minds at the last minute and decided to join us. Fishing’s always good up at the lake.”
Libby said nothing. But as the men walked past, she felt Vince’s pale eyes skimming over her, and a chill slid down her spine. Max nudged Vince toward the barn, where a pair of bay horses stood saddled and waiting.
Sam tied a bedroll on the back of Libby’s saddle, took her overnight bag and packed it in one of the mule panniers. According to Sam, each side of the box had to be weighted exactly right in order to keep the load from shifting and creating a problem for the mule.