The next thing Abby knew a muscled arm shot out. She felt herself bodily lifted and pulled onto his lap. Struggling for balance, she was forced to twist her fingers in the front of his leather vest.
A searing heat rose within him; he felt as if a fever had entered his blood. Strange, he thought. Tonight with Daisy, he hadn't been able to summon any semblance of desire at all. But with Abigail... This potent surge of yearning was suddenly all he could feel... and no doubt she could, too.
She wasn't a scrawny little chicken, that's for sure, Kane decided. Her features were delicately molded, yet there was strength in the set of her jaw.
Though she might look—and feel—as fine-boned and breakable as china, she wasn't. As slender as she was, the feel of her flesh beneath his fingers was firm and resilient.
His gaze slid down the ivory column of her neck. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath she took, fanning the burning ache inside him. If they had been alone, he wouldn't delay sampling such tempting bounty with lips and hands and mouth.
No, he thought again, she was no innocent.
"You want to dance?" His whisper was hot and breathy in her ear.
Speech was impossible. Abby's pulse fluttered like a wild bird. The single thought dominating her mind was that he must have been a giant. Even sitting on his lap, she had to tilt her chin slightly to meet his eyes. The hungry way he looked at her did nothing to alleviate her apprehension. His hand scaling up and down the length of her spine left a trail of burning heat wherever he touched. She wanted to scream at him to stop, but she could hardly take in enough air to breathe, let alone speak.
Finally she looked away in confusion. 'Tm not really in the mood for dancing," she heard herself say.
"Good," he said thickly. "Because neither am I." Kane couldn't control his response to her nearness. He was only a man, and not a very upright one at that. She felt so warm, so alive, while he felt a part of him had died inside. Maybe it was selfish, but right now he wanted to claim some of that vibrant warmth for his own.
To hell with the ache in his head, he thought suddenly. It had settled in his nether regions.
One hand came up to tangle in her hair. With the other he guided her chin upward and fused his lips to hers. In the back of his mind he expected her to taste of sour whiskey, like Daisy. But her lips had the lush redness of ripe strawberries—and tasted just as sweet.
Abby had one terrifying glimpse of fiercely glowing eyes just before his mouth came down on hers. Her heart lurched. Her mind, her entire being, spun crazily. Her only thought was how she'd been sweet on Marcus Connors for ages. He'd given her her first—her only—real kiss. But it wasn't long before she realized it was nothing like this!
Shock and panic kept her motionless in his arms. This kiss was far beyond Abby's experience. His mouth was hot and hard against hers; she had no choice but to part her lips against the demanding pressure of his. When she did, his tongue dove swift and sure, ruthlessly stroking the honeyed depths of her mouth. She inhaled sharply, scandalized that he would invade her this way. Part of her wanted to struggle, to push him back and demand that he apologize for his brazenness. Yet it wasn't so very unpleasant after all. She felt her fingers curl helplessly into his shoulders. Everything inside her seemed to melt and go weak. She gave a silent prayer of thanks that she was sitting, for if she'd been standing, she'd surely have fallen into a graceless heap.
By the time he lifted his head she was panting softly.
His arm was tight about her waist. He nuzzled the velvety skin of her temple. "There's a better place for this, sweetheart."
His words were a husky whisper directly in her ear. Abby dragged in a startled, half-frightened breath. "What?" she gasped.
"Let's go upstairs. To my room."
Her mind worked frantically. His breathing was jagged and heavy against her cheek. Surely he wasn't saying that he... that they . .. Abby didn't know exactly what went on in those rooms upstairs, but she had a pretty good idea. She also suspected that Kane—if she let him—was about to further her education.
The problem was that she didn't have a plan beyond demanding that he help her. Mute frustration welled up inside her. Maybe she should have dragged him out of the saloon, tied him up and kidnapped him ... The thought never evolved beyond that.
Because it seemed she had a plan after all.
The quick hard pounding of her heart seemed to jolt her entire body. "Whatever you say," she whispered.
With a surge of power he was on his feet. Abby allowed him lead her upstairs, caught squarely between excitement and fear. There would be no turning back now, she acknowledged. Up until this moment, she could have bolted and ran if the going got too rough. But once she was alone with Kane upstairs, that might prove far more difficult.
In his room, Abby stood near the door and rubbed her hands together while Kane lit a lamp. She glanced around as hazy yellow light began to fill the corner. There was a wide bed pushed against one wall, covered with a faded blue quilt. A cracked, yellowed washbasin that had once been white stood atop a small table on the opposite wall. A worn leather saddlebag slumped on the room's only chair.
A crash from the piano downstairs made her jump. How on earth could anyone sleep here, Abby wondered in annoyance. But all at once she felt like a fool. You idiot! Fiercely she berated herself.. Sleeping obviously wasn't what they came here for.
Trying not to think about the blush that was surely staining her cheeks, her eyes sought Kane's. It didn't help to discover he was standing near the foot of the bed, watching her with those strange silver eyes.
"Come here."
Abby didn't move. She wondered wildly if she hadn't just made the biggest mistake of her life. Kane was so much taller than she. It was a certainty he was stronger.
"The night's not gettin' any longer," he drawled. "What are you waiting for?" His smile was slow and lazy, almost taunting.
Feeling like a man on his way to the hangman's noose, Abby moved forward on wooden legs.
Kane's smile waned as she came nearer. In some far distant corner of his mind, he wondered again why she was here at the Silver Spur. A woman like her deserved far more than the little she had.
No, he wasn't so drunk that he couldn't appreciate her beauty. Just the sight of her made his mouth go dry. His blood pooled thickly in his loins, hardening his cock to an almost painful fullness. For all her slenderness, her breasts were lush and delectably shaped. He'd have bet his last dollar her rounded fullness would fit his hands perfectly.
The thought made him grit his teeth with need.
He ached with the need to strip the clothes from her body and explore every sweet, enticing inch of her. And he promised himself that soon he would... very soon.
His eyes never left hers as he pulled off his gun belt, walked across the rough plank floor and draped it over the chair. A moment later he caught her hand and pulled her against him. He wasted no time feasting on the sweetness of her mouth.
Abby had no choice but to endure his embrace. He held her so tightly she could scarcely move. Her breasts were flattened against the granite plane of his chest. And her tummy was nestled intimately against his... why, she couldn't even think it!
But there was more. Abby didn't realize he was nudging her backward until it was too late. She felt something behind her knees and then she was tumbling back, the weight of his body guiding her fall against the mattress.
She made a faint sound deep in her throat. She jammed her fists instinctively against his shoulders, but he paid no heed. His body was anchored to her own, his mouth on the sweeping arch of her throat. "Relax," he muttered. "I'm not worried about the price. We'll settle up later."
He trapped her mouth beneath his again. His hand swept aside a strap and trespassed beneath the red silk bodice, laying claim to the arching curve of her breast. To Abby, his hand was like a brand, touching flesh that no man had ever touched. As if that weren't enough, she felt the graze of roughened fingertips across her nipple. Once. Twice .. . again. Shocked by such blatant intimacy, Abby lay motionless for a moment. .. but only for a moment.