Kate Wingo - Western Fire 01 by Fire on the Prairie Page B

happening in front of a crowd of leering, drunken bushwhackers.”
    Almost immediately, an incredulous look came over Spencer . “That was your first kiss? No wonder you’re mad as hell at me.” He ran his hand back and forth along his jaw, clearly surprised by her revelation. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
    “You’re actually apologizing to me?”
    “Of course, I’m apologizing. A woman’s first kiss, hell, anyone’s first kiss, ought to be something special.” Spencer took a slow, cautious step in Mercy’s direction, coming to a halt when he saw her readying to launch another attack. “As God is my witness, the only reason that I kissed you in front of those men was so that none of them would try to forni—” He let out a frustrated grunt, kicking at the ground with his boot tip. “Hell, as pretty as you are, it just didn’t occur to me that you’d never been kissed before.”
    “Yes, you say that now,” Mercy sn apped, not about to let the silver-tongued devil weaken her resolve with empty compliments.
    “No, right now, I’m saying that I’d like to make amends for last night.” Spencer stepped toward her, his unblinking gaze never leaving her face.
    “That’s . . . that’s entirely unnecessary.”
    “I beg to differ with you.”
    “D-don’t c-c-come any closer,” Mercy sputtered, unnerved by his overture. There was something entirely too predatory, too masculine, in the way that he stared at her. Still holding the pitchfork, its tines aimed at Spencer’s heart, she took a backward step.
    A few seconds later, she groaned aloud when her backside bumped against the side of the barn. Trapped between it and Spencer, she nervously licked her lips.
    Deducing that escape was out of the question, her chest began to heave, her breath coming in short, choppy pants.
    With one purposeful step, Spencer closed the distance between them . His movements calm and purposeful, he took the pitchfork from her and tossed it to the ground.
    “It’ll be different this time,” he whispered as he gently bracketed her face between his hands. “I promise.”
    With that soft-spoken avowal, Spencer kissed her, his lips firm and surprisingly warm to the touch.
    Awkwardly, Mercy clutched at his shoulders, her eyes fluttering shut. Not certain what to do, or how to do it, she simply mimicked Spencer’s every move. When he twisted his head, she did the same. When his lips moved – gently, tenderly – she shyly followed suit.
    Unable to stop herself , Mercy whimpered, the sound muffled between their lips. With each passing second, a strange liquid heat, one that was both pleasurable and intoxicating, pulsed in the female place between her legs.
    Which is why she was admittedly disappointed when Spencer put a halt to the proceedings, straightening his shoulde rs as he stepped away from her.
    “There. How was that for a first kiss?” he asked, his lips curved in what, if she hadn’t know him better, she might deem a loving smile. “Did it make up for last night?”
    Mercy nodded . “So much so that . . . that I think I might like another one,” she blurted impetuously.
    Her r equest met with a shaky laugh.
    “Maybe we ought to quit while we’re ahead.” Spencer rubbed a callused thumb across her lower lip. “I don’t know if I’ve got any more gentlemanly kisses left in me. A man o nly has so much self-control.”
    Timidly, Mercy returned the gesture, her fingers lightly grazing across the curve of his lips. When she felt his sudden intake of breath against her fingertips, a womanly flush came over her. Awed by what they’d done, by what they were doing , Mercy voiced the unthinkable. “Women, too, have only so much self-con—”
    She never had a chance to finish the sentence, Spencer lashing an arm around her waist. Pulling her against him, his mouth captured hers in a kiss that bore little resemblance to their ‘first’ kiss.
    Hungrily, Spencer’s lips smashed against hers, insistent,